Kyle’s Journey in Armenia

Warning: This post contains pictures of dead animals. Really dead animals. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Some nights in this country are really boring. And then there are nights like tonight.

By all accounts the next few weeks are busy – I have a business marketing training, a week-long civics day camp for children, and a marathon to run. I knew tonight would not be one of those “productive” nights when I walked in the doors of my NGO this morning, and they remind me of my co-worker, Mxitar’s, birthday party. Low and behold, after a hectic day and a party that started two-and-a-half hours late, I found myself crowded around a table, homemade wine and bar-b-que being passed around, and the serial list of toasts being delivered like clockwork. After two hours recognizing every member of my family through alcoholic tribute, I decided it was time to go home and get to work… or so I thought.

My host family has a small garage by our apartment building, and they sell fruits and vegis there. Usually Gohar, my host mom, has a large sack of vegis to take up to the house, so I always drop by after work and take them upstairs. Tonight, however, I walk in, and my host mom is wielding a bloody knife in her stained hands, standing over three buckets of pig organs. The heads of the owners of these organs are gracefully laying on the floor next to her. She greets me with a smile and a friendly, “Barev, Kyle jan!”

Last chance! If you’re ready…

For those who don’t know me personally, I’m a city boy. The most I really set out in the country was to set off some fireworks (although one time I rode a tractor!). So, as you can imagine, the site of these two very recently dead pigs somewhat took me aback, especially after a couple of glasses of homemade wine. While initially shocked, Gohar immediately set me forth to do my chores, and I obediantly brought my organs and pig heads up to the house with me.

For naive little Kyle, I thought this would be the end of it, but appearently you can’t just leave pig heads sitting around the kitchen. So, tonight I learned how to make bar-b-que pig head/hoof. It’s quite an intricate process, and one that I’ll never forget (or regret being coaxed in to). You start by boiling the head/ear/hoof/assorted entrails, and then giving them to my 96 year old “tatik” to shave them with a dull knive. After watching this scene for about five minutes, I decided to relieve tatik of her duties and spent the next hour dutifuly shaving my two new pig friends.

The rest of the process was relatively simple – we cook the shaved head on a skewer over the oven burner, let it sit in cold water over-night, and presto! Shaved pig head bar-b-que! Now who’s hungry?

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