MPC Chapter 4 - Guinea Pig House of Horrors

It began like any old day on a 4 day trek through jungles to Machu Picchu...we awoke at 6:00am, dressed in yesterday's stained and stinky best and came down to a breakfast of fruit salad, omelet or pancake - your choice and a briefing of the days events. I don't think any of us really conceptualized or understood exactly what was in store for us on our fruitful day of trekking, so off we went to began the most challenging of the days' hikes...and the best hike in my opinion.
Mostly uphill through various plantations (pineapple, papaya, avocado, cocoa, banana, lime) we climbed, through tiny villages where people actually live so far away from a main city. Children walk to school 45 minutes each way and then return home in the aternoon to work in the plantations and help out around the house. At one point, we emereged from the jungle and came across a raging river where a bridge had once been. We all kind of just stared at it for a few moments until we saw this woman racing down the hill on the opposite side of the river with a dog at her side to help us make our way to safety. She grabbed some ancient Incan stick from the brush and jumped down to the river bank where she wedged the stick against a giant rock holding the other end of the stick in her hand. Then, one by one, we all used the stick as a sort of handrail and jumped from rock to rock until we reached the safety of the opposite side.
At the time, we didn't realize that this was one of Abraham's friends and her home was to be our house of respite for the next hour or so breaking up the journey nicely. What we also didn't realize was that she had her own little guinea pig house of horrors right smack dab in the middle of the jungle...and we were all going to take part in the show. We were all sitting under a canopied sort of porch with views too magnificent to even attempt at describing with my feeble vocabulary, when this woman emerged holding a white and orange guinea pig by the neck in her hand. Watching this poor creature wriggling around was certainly enough of a sight for me, but watching her then stretch its' little body out and twist its' head to the left and its' body to the right to break its' neck was certinaly another thing entirely. And yes, this did happen.
We kind of all sat there for a moment watching this dead guinea pig dangle and sway from side to side in the mild breeze coming up from the Andes, minus Mick who was sleeping in a hammock near by, and just remained quiet in our own thoughts. Eventually, we followed the woman into her kitchen area, which also doubles as a dining room and petting zoo. Inside, running all around the floor were guinea pigs (dozens of them, all different sizes, colours and ages), ducklings, kittens, dogs, a sheep, some roosters, a turkey...I am sure there were others as well. I find it amazing how the guinea pigs seemed blissfully unaware that one of their own had just been murdered and was being skinned and cooked right before their very eyes. We all grabbed our favourtie animal and started petting them, quickly moving onto the next one and then another one for an hour (just in case this was their last day here on earth), while this woman who had saved our lives and rescued us from the raging river was gutting, skinning and preparing this organic, free-range guinea pig for our mid-morning delicacy.
After she skinned our guinea pig by boiling it and the dunking it into the ash beneath the stove and then scraping the fur off with a knife, she gutted the poor thing by cutting it from throat to anus and removing its' entrails. Once gutted, she stuffed it with this greenish gel that was a combination of onions and garlic and something green, as well as some foliage she just plucked from the surrounding jungle. She tossed it into a pot and roasted it with some bits of root, similar to parsnips and some large kernal maize. When it was ready, everyone just surounded the table and dug right in...Gubby and I hung back, but I did taste a tiny bit. Very gamey, but tender enough I guess. The skin is like rubber and not for consumption and guinea pigs are also suprisingly boney. Alex tore into that poor animal like it was her last meal on earth. She even sucked on the head and skull...she is such a jungle woman. The roasted root vegetable and maize were delicious.
We all sat back and digested our house pet for a few moment when discussions quickly moved to how foreign it is for we Americans and British to be so close to the preparation of the meat that we consume. We feel much more secure and comfortable purchasing our meat from the supermaket...already reared for our consumption in a nicely wrapped plastic package. It just makes it seem less...well...real, I guess. Needless to say, it was a moment in time that will never be forgotten by any of us in the group and certainly bonded us even closer to one another. Tom found his future wife, Mick found his favourite sleeping spot, Gubby reaffirmed her vegetarianism, Fraser questioned becoming a vegetarian, Gavin wrote a song about guinea pigs, Alex found her new favourite cuisine, and I just took it all in and replayed blog entries in my mind over and over again...who gets to have these types of experiences? Who?