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PIGGY TALES FROM YESTERDAY'S GOA: THEY'RE NOT AS DIRTY AS YOU THINK THEY ARE
By Domnic Fernandes
Anjuna/Dhahran, KSA
[EMAIL PROTECTED]
In the olden days, every house in Goa raised pets like the mazor (cat),
sunnem (dog), bokddi (goat), dukor (pig), etc. In this article I shall talk
about dukor, and I dedicate this article to all the mothers of the
yesteryears who brought up their children by raising pigs.
Dukor (the pig) has been one of Goa's domesticated animals for ages. Pigs
are one of several large mammals that exist in every part of the world.
They are probably one of the earliest domesticated animals dating back to
more than 10,000 years.
Perhaps the Middle Easterners brought the pig to Goa. Pigs are the most
efficient domesticated animals because they convert 35 percent of food
energy into meat compared to 13 percent for sheep or a mere 6.5 percent for
cattle. Moreover, they require little labour to control because they can be
left to forage, and the young are easily obtained and tamed.
The pig has a long history of domesticity and service to man. Pigs are
commonly associated with greed and dirt; the latter probably comes from
their habit of wallowing in mud.
Pigs are not as dirty as people believe them to be. In fact, pigs are some
of the cleanest animals around, refusing to foul their living or eating
areas, unless forced by necessity. The only reason people picture them in
mud and covered with dirt is because they are unable to sweat, and, instead,
they wallow in mud to cool down.
Rolling in the mud is their way of regulating their body temperature and
keeping themselves cool in warmer temperatures. This has given pigs a bad
name and image, and caused people to think that they are dirty, nasty
creatures. To keep them cool in hot weather, owners should provide lots of
clean water for them to splash and wallow in.
In the olden days, whenever a child returned home from his or her
evening play soaked in sweat and mud, parents would question
him/her: "Tum khuimchea dukrachea konnddan lovon eila re/gho?"
(Where have you been wallowing like a pig?). Children would reply:
"Nam ghe maim/pai, hanv khellta astannam mello/mellim zala/zaleam."
(Mummy/daddy, I got dirtied while playing.)
If Goan pigs were kept in a compound, they wouldn't go around eating what
they ate, if you know what I mean, but the question of keeping them penned
did not arise because we ourselves could not afford a compound wall in those
days, and since nobody paid much attention to hygiene, it didn't matter what
pigs ate and everything went on well without any complaints from anyone.
Pigs are misunderstood in many ways. Many people think of pigs as just fat,
stupid bacon on the hoof, but pigs are intelligent, and are naturally lean,
too, unless they are intentionally over-fed, as is the case of pigs in Goa.
Pigs enjoy playing, and can easily be trained. In addition, they generally
get along well with other domestic animals. The hen would always remain in
the vicinity of a pigsty and she and the crow would peck at his food, but
there were times when a hen would be seen riding a pig's back just as a crow
did. We would also sometimes watch a cat play with a pig and even the dog
didn't mind playing with it. Pigs are clean pets which will stay tidy if
they are bathed and groomed.
In order to rear pigs one had to initially buy a piggy. Anjuncars
bought piggies from weekly Saturday bazaar in Calangute or Wednesday
bazaar in Siolim or from Friday bazaar in Mapusa. The women would
visit the bazaar with a small gunny bag, select a piggy, place it in
the bag and tie it with 'sumbacho kuddko' (piece of thin coir rope).
They would then place the bag on the head and walk back home; the
poor thing cried all the way until it reached its new destination
thus making it obvious to everyone that the person was carrying a
piggy.
There is a saying in Konkani: 'Dukor posunkui roddta ani marunkui roddta' (A
pig cries when domesticated as well as when it is slaughtered.) I say this
because from the moment the piggy was picked up from the market and until it
reached its new place it would do just one thing -- cry like a baby.
The moment the new master arrived home, he/she would prepare a thick coir
rope. The noose part of the rope would be wrapped with cloth in order to
avoid scratching the pig's neck. The noose would be smaller than piggy's
head so that it wouldn't come out.
Within a day or two, a local veterinarian would be called in to castrate the
piggy; he would be accompanied by a helper. The castration of a shoath was
easy. His mouth was tied with a piece of 'sumb' and while the helper held
the shoath and placed his knee on it, the veterinarian would cut the scrotum
with a blade, remove the testicles, close the incision with stitches and
apply turmeric powder mixed with palm fenni as medication.
Castration of gilt was like a minor surgery. Here again the mouth was tied
with a piece of 'sumb' but it required three persons. The gilt would be
placed on her back and while one person held her front feet the other would
hold her hind feet. The veterinarian then meticulously cut open with a blade
the exact spot on its stomach and removed the 'ful' (flower or ovary),
closed the incision with stitches and applied the same local medicine as
above. The castration process was called 'Kapanv korop'.
A pig which was not castrated was called 'Barranv'. Each ward would
have at least one 'barranv'. Being the hero of his locality, he was
hardly found at home as he was always busy dating his girlfriends;
he didn't even care for meals. Perhaps he shared meals with his
girlfriend at his in-law's-to-be house. The 'zanvchi-sasumaim'
(to-be mother-in-law) didn't mind feeding him because after all she
wanted her 'dukorn' (a grownup she pig) to conceive and give her as
many piggies as possible.
By the way, isn't it the case with humans as well when they fall in love?
They forget everything and don't even feel hungry. In short, they live on
love and fresh air, but only until they get married! In the olden days, if
anyone was friendly with more than one girl, whenever the guy passed by,
people would remark: 'Ho polloi barranv voita; taka dhorun kapanv korunk
zai!' There goes the boar; we must catch and castrate him!
In the olden days, practically every house in Goa raised pigs; it was a
little home industry; some housewives made a living out of it.
Pigs, like humans, are omnivores, making them easy to be raised; on a small
farm or in a large household they can be fed kitchen scraps as part or all
of their diet. So, raising pigs was not a big problem for Goans as every
kitchen produced enough 'dhonn' (food waste) to feed them on.
If the 'dhonn' was not enough, canji was cooked to make up for the feed. The
housewife would find out which houses in the ward did not have pigs, and did
not mind approaching her counterparts to collect 'dhonn' from those houses.
Every evening, she would walk to those houses with a bucket in her hand as
the sun set. While she walked home with a bucket full of 'dhonn', she folded
her 'kapodd' (sari) and tucked it at her waist, or raised her 'vistid'
(dress) up to her knees and gave it a knot at the abdomen in order to avoid
a splash of 'dhonn'.
The 'dhonn' was mixed either with 'kunnddo' (paddy husk) or 'pennd' (coconut
cake). Since Goans are basically farmers, getting husk was not a problem.
Every time they husked paddy, they would have plenty of husk -- every sack
of rice produced at least half a sack of husk.
In those days, if a child put on good weight, people would remark: "Boro
motto zalai mure! Maim tuka pennd khavoita kitem?" (You have put on good
weight. Does your mother feed you 'pendd'?
Since humans have three meals a day, pigs are also fed thrice a day --
morning, afternoon and evening. The feed was placed in a container called
'dhonnanchi koinn'. It usually was an earthen container which had to be
replaced every now and then because once pigs finished their meals they
would push it with their nose and break it. So, some people made use of worn
out 'ghonnsunno' or brought a large stone from a 'khonnd' (stone mine) and
had it carved into a large bowl and covered it with cement.
When it was time for the feed, housewife or any other person in the house
would give a call to pigs. Just like cats, dogs, goats, etc., pigs were
also given names.
Once the feed was placed in a 'koinn' and if the pigs were not present, they
would call out: 'Gitru ieo, ieo, ieo, ieo, ieo'.. (Gitru come, come, come,
come) and in no time pigs would arrive and begin eating the feed.
People made sure that they did not name a pig after a living person in the
ward. We named our 'leitanv' (she piggy) ~SSuzie~T. In 1962, when many
Bomboikars came home for the first time after liberation of Goa, one of the
Bomboikar families visited us when it was time to feed the pigs. My mother
went to the back of the house and started calling our pig: 'Suzie, ieo, ieo,
ieo, ieo' to which not only did our Suzie the pig respond but also one of
the girls whose name was Suzie.
She came to my mother and asked her: 'Aunty, did you call me?' And my mother
said: 'Nam gho bai, hanv amchea leitanvank apoitalim!' (No dear, I was
calling our gilt!) The poor girl went inside our house and narrated the
incident to her parents and obviously they were not happy to know that we
had a piggy going by their daughter's name!
Women gradually came up with another way to call pigs for the feed. They
took a 'kotti' (coconut shell) and hit it continuously against the 'koinn'
and surprisingly pigs came running for the feed.
As I said earlier, pigs are intelligent animals, and they are smarter than
any other domestic animal. They are considered by animal experts to be more
than twice as smart as cats and dogs, and infinitely more trainable. Pigs
have been used as guide animals for the blind and one smart pig even saved
his owner from dying of a heart attack. One day, the usually tranquil pig
ran squealing out into the neighbor's yard, and when they chased him back
into his house, they found his owner collapsed on the floor. The paramedics
were called, and the man survived.
Somehow, the pig is associated with human beings almost every day in some
way or the other.
Every time a heated discussion takes place, people refer to each other as a
pig: 'Tum dukor; tum dukrachea kastacho!' (You are a pig; you belong to the
pig's family!)
When pigs eat, they make a lot of noise 'chap, chap, chap, chap.' During our
childhood, if we made such a noise while eating, mother would say:
'Jevtannam dukra porim chap, chap, chap korun avaz korinaka; unndi tonddan
ghal ani tondd dhamp; jevonn chab ani ghill' (Don~Rt make the chap, chap,
chap noise like a pig while eating; place the morsel in your mouth and close
it; bite the food and swallow.)
Whenever children committed silly mistakes, parents would question them:
'Tum dukor re? Tuka ginean nam? (Are you a pig? Don't you have brains?)
As we know, children begin to lose their milk teeth when they are
six or seven years old, and most us refrained from smiling because
we didn't want others to know that we had lost our teeth. But, some
people would crack jokes and make us open our mouth and when they
saw the gaps on our gums, they would tease us saying: "Rav, festak
dukor marta tednam tuka dukrache dant ghaltam!" (Just wait, when we
slaughter a pig for the feast, we will fix you pig's teeth!)
Misunderstandings between married couples are a common thing. In those days
whenever a wife was angry with her husband, she would avoid talking to him;
she wouldn't even look at his face. So, the husband would say: "Tondd kelam
polloi dukrachi sonddi koxi!" (Look at her face; looks like that of a
pig's!) At which she would smile and everything would be back to normal.
During my childhood, my sister, who is one year older than me, would
sometimes call me a "Dukor" at which I would immediately say: "Hanv dukor
zalear tum leitanv; toxem zalear amchi maim dukorn zali tor. Atanch vochon
maink sangtam tum tika dukorn mhunttai mhunnon." (If I am a pig then you are
gilt, and that means our mother is a 'dukorn'. OK, I am going to tell mother
right now that you are calling her a 'dukorn'.) She would immediately say
sorry and beg me not to tell mother about it. Being the pet of my mother, I
enjoyed better clout with her than my sister; hence, I could blackmail her.
If a child did not listen to his parents and repeatedly made the same
mistakes, the parents would get fed up with him and say: "Dukor tori boro;
tum dukra poros paixtt!" (Even a pig is better; you are worse than a pig!)
As children, while playing we would call out names. If anyone questioned:
"Hanv?" (I?) We would immediately say: "Tum dukra fattlean dhanv!" (You run
after the pig), playing on the rhyme between these two Konkani sentences.
Since the main purpose to raise a pig was to sell it, a day would
come when he would be sold to a "dukor maro" (pig butcher). Catching
pigs was done in the late evening when they returned home to rest.
The 'dukor maro' and his associate would hide close by the pigsty,
watch the pig's movement and the moment he moved away, the guy would
proceed from behind, catch one of the pig's hind legs and stop him
from moving further by immediately toppling him to the ground and
placing his knee on it. The helper would also immediately join in
and throw his weight on the pig and also place his knee on it. They
would then tie the pig's legs and mouth with 'sumb' so that it could
neither move nor cry loud. Next, they would bring a solid, thick
bamboo 'dandda' (stick), place it in between the pig's legs, take
hold of both ends of the bamboo, lift and place it on their
shoulders and walk home with a pig dangling on the bamboo and still
crying but not loud.
Over the years, the 'dukor maro' changed the technique of catching pigs. He
trained dogs to do the job for him. He also bought a bicycle for himself.
Thus, whenever he came to catch a pig, he rode a bicycle and made his dog
sit on the cross bar with its front feet on the handle bar. This arrangement
obviously prevented a fight between his dog and the dogs of the locality,
which is common whenever an outsider dog crosses the territory. Also,
instead of a bamboo stick, he began carrying pigs on the hind bracket of his
bicycle. By the 1970s, he carried pigs on a motorcycle!
Early the next morning, it would be time for the pig to bid goodbye
to this world. People always sold their pigs to outsiders because
they could not bear to see their pet killed in front of their eyes;
they were quite sentimental. When a pet was slaughtered at home for
any occasion, out of respect for the pet, the home people --
particularly the housewife -- would not eat that meat.
The 'dukor maro' placed the pig on a 'kornn' (woven coconut leaf), cut its
throat and immediately placed a 'vattli' (brass plate) or any other flat
container under the gash to collect the blood, as it is needed for the
preparation of a 'sorpotel' dish. He then lit a bunch of dry coconut leaves,
held them in his hand, burned the pig's hair by consistently applying the
fire on the pig's body, gradually moving from one end to the other but at
the same time making sure not to burn the skin. He then took a big knife and
shaved the hair forcefully, sometimes scraping the skin in order to get rid
of the hair. As he shaved, another person poured water and cleaned the skin.
Any small patches of hair that were left would be cleared with the help of
the shaving blade. While pigs are raised mostly for meat, their bristly
hairs are traditionally used for brushes. Did you know that the pig's hair
gets used for making shaving brushes?
Meat from the pig is called 'dukrachem mas' (pork) in general, and ham,
bacon or bologna in same cases. Pork is considered white meat, as opposed to
beef. 'White meat' (such as poultry) is considered healthier than 'red
meat'. All Christians in Goa eat pork; at least I don't know any who don't.
Most Christians in the north of Goa, especially in the Pernem Taluka, eat
only pork, as they still partly believe in Hinduism and refrain from eating
beef, and you will be surprised to know that Hindus in some pockets of these
areas ate pork!
No Goan occasion is complete without a pork dish. When a pig was slaughtered
at home, one of the first things to be cooked and eaten was its brains. As
soon as the butcher cut the pig and split it into two halves, the first
thing that he secured was the brain. He would meticulously collect it from
the skull and place it in a kotti (coconut shell) or on a plantain leaf. One
of the women from the house -- mother, elder sister, or an aunt would
immediately take it to the kitchen, mix it with eggs, add an onion, turmeric
powder, green chilly, cumin, ginger, garlic, and fry it just like an
omlette. In fact, by the time the pig was totally butchered, the woman of
the house would come out with the fried brain so that even the butcher got
to eat it, and he would comment: "Bhejo boro ruchik zala!" (The brain dish
is tasty!) The next thing that would be immediately prepared was "dukrachi
sonddi" (pig's nose). The skin on the "sonddi" would be burned and peeled
and it would then be washed and cleaned. They would then apply a little
salt to it, embed it in the 'murmuro' in a 'chul' (live ash in a fireplace),
take it out with tongs after about 10 minutes and eat it 'korkorit'
(crisply).
It was a waste-free society in those days. The 'bannddem' (stomach
and intestines) of a pig was not thrown away. Those who made the
'Butch' dish out of it cleaned the intestines mostly at the base of
a chickoo tree and then took it to a 'vhall' (stream) where they
cleaned it thoroughly in the flowing water. We usually dug a pit at
the chickoo tree and buried the whole 'bannddem', as it is
considered very good manure for a chickoo tree, and, in fact, we got
more chickoos after that!
Goans make several dishes of pork like balchao, cabidel, grilled pork chops,
pork assad, fried pork, pork roast, pork vindalo, roasted suckling pig,
stuffed (baked in the baker's 'khorn' or clay oven), 'dukrachem kharem mas'
(salted dried pork), sorpotel and cheurisam (sausages.) Here is how the last
two dishes are made, which are considered to be the best among pork dishes:
SORPOTEL
Grind the following masala together in coconut vinegar: 25-30 Kashmiri
chilies, 1 teaspoon cumin seeds, 1-inch piece of turmeric, 4-6 cloves, 4-6
peppercorns and an inch of cinnamon stick.
Take a small ball of tamarind and soak it in a bowl.
Wash and boil for a while 1 kilogram boneless pork, 1/2 kg liver and heart.
Remove from the boiling water and let it cool. Then cut into fine pieces.
Fry the cut pieces in a frying pan in their own fat.
Slice one cluster of garlic (you can use as much garlic as you wish because
the more garlic you use, the better it is for health, as it destroys
cholesterol), a two-inch piece of ginger, three large onions and 3-4 green
chilies. Using fat from the fried pork fry these until the onion changes
color. Add chopped green masala and after quickly frying, add fried pieces
of meat and the red masala along with tamarind pulp and a little vinegar.
Fry for five minutes and then add the water in which the pork-liver were
boiled. Add two spoons of salt. Cook on a slow fire till the meat is tender.
Add one cup fine-mashed pork blood and stir it evenly into the dish. My
mother always added one spoon of sugar and it definitely increased the taste
of the dish; you can add it if you wish. Continue to cook for another 10 to
15 minutes and then remove from the fire. Sorpotel tastes better the next
day; so, always prepare sorpotel at least one day in advance. Keep it for a
few days, as sorpotel tastes better as it matures.
CHEURISAM (SAUSAGES)
Grind the following masala in coconut vinegar only; do not use even one drop
of water. 50-60 Kashmiri chilies, 1 teaspoonful cumin seeds, 25-30
peppercorns, 25-30 cloves, 30-40 large flakes of garlic, 4 pieces (1-inch
long) of turmeric, 6 pieces (1-inch long) of cinnamon stick, 4 pieces
(2-inch long) of ginger and 1 cups vinegar.
Wash well 1 kilogram boneless fatty pork. Remove the skin completely and cut
into small cubes; apply one handful of salt and keep under a weight for at
least four hours.
Drain out all the water that collects around the meat, apply another handful
of salt and one teaspoon saltpeter and keep the meat under a heavy weight
for about 48 hours; keep turning the meat after every 12 hours and sprinkle
a little salt before again keeping the weight on the meat. Then drain out
any water that might be left, wipe the meat pieces with a clean dry cloth
and keep it in a large, dry vessel. (The best way to drain out the water
from the salted meat is to keep it in a clean bamboo basket or sieve. Cover
it with a lid and then place a very heavy weight on it.)
Mix the ground masala well into the meat adding about six tablespoons of
'maddanchi fenni' (palm fenni) -- a little at a time at every mix. Add
vinegar, if required, including the quantity with which the grinding stone
was washed. Marinate the masala-mixed meat overnight. The next day, take a
meter and a half of dried guts (available for sale at every slaughter house
in Goa, or buy it fresh, clean it and thoroughly dry it before using) and
stuff the meat into them about four inches apart. Tie with string and dry in
the sun for a few days. In the past, if it rained, they would hang the
sausages above the 'chul' and they would gradually dry up.
In the olden days, 'cheurisam' were one of the monsoon provisions.
As such, most Goan families prepared 'cheurisam' at home. Some
people prepared them for commercial purpose and sold them in the
market. The first people to take 'cheurisam' outside of Goa were the
Goan Africanders (settlers in Africa) most of whom were from Bardez.
Whenever they came to Goa, they would order their requirement with a
'cheuris' maker, or they would get the help of relatives and
neighbors and prepare them at home. For this purpose, they would
slaughter a pig at home and prepare 'cheurisam' of the whole pig and
take them back to Africa. Nothing can beat homemade 'cheurisam',
especially if they are made by your mother who remains the best cook
of each household. By the late 1960s and early 1970s, Goans working
in the Gulf (except in the KSA) followed suit and took a year's
provision of 'cheurisam' on their return to their work places.
'SUKEM DUKRACHEM KHAREM MAS' (DRIED SALTED PORK)
In the olden days, 'sukem dukrachem kharem mas' was also one of the monsoon
provisions. The preparation is simple. Buy boneless pork and cut each piece
into long strips leaving the top end uncut just as you would with a kite or
shark fish when making 'solave' (dry fish strips) out of them. Apply plenty
of salt and enough turmeric powder to cover and keep the strips in a
container for two nights, turning them at least twice a day, removing water
and sprinkling salt every time.
On the third morning, remove the strips from the container and tie each one
to a rope; then hang them between two trees or poles in the open sun. It
takes about a week for the meat to dry completely. When dried, store it in a
container with a cover.
As a child, I would accompany my 'ghora maim' (paternal grandmother) to
Vagator beach during her yearly sea bath. The norm was to have three baths a
day -- morning, afternoon and evening -- for three or four successive days.
Every day, she would prepare 'bhuti' (lunch pack) and wrap it in a cloth to
carry with us. The lunch mainly consisted of a dish of 'dukrachem kharem
mas' which was prepared with onion, green chilies, tomato, cumin, coriander,
cloves, cinnamon, 'binddichim solam' (peels of the Garcina indica) and
'ponnsachim bingttam' (jackfruit seeds.)
We carried the dish in a small 'kunnllem' (earthen dish). Chapattis were
wrapped in a plantain leaf as were plain rice with green chutney and a
'solavo' (dried fish strip) of either kite or shark fish fried in 'murmuro'
and treated with 'khobreachea telacho' (tinge of coconut oil.) She would
also carry bananas or mangoes for dessert. We would eat 'kharem mas' dish at
around 12 noon and rice at around 2 p.m. For me, it was like a yearly 3-4
day picnic! I liked the food so much -- especially 'dukrachem kharem mas'
-- that I would eagerly wait for another year to come to enjoy that food.
Somehow, everything tasted differently on the beach. Well, those were the
wonderful good old days! That's all for now from Dom's antique shelf!
Moi-mogan.
[The writer is known for his nostalgic recollections of the Goa of
yesteryears, put out regularly by him on Goanet.]
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