FLOWERED

It was against my better judgment but no other option presented itself. Ntate Zoo ensured me this was the way to go about such matters. My years as a showman of swine had taught me that when pigs are involved, controlled chaos is the best you can hope for. This time there was no control, it was just sheer chaos.
The two female pigs at my school are “lipalesistse.” This polite Sesotho term literally means “flowered.” The ladies had to travel up the hill, through the village to Lucky 7, the local shop where Mr. pig lives. My porky princesses are not small, they are full grown and sassy, yet I agreed building a harness out of rope and “leading” them to their lover would be a good idea. Turns out it wasn’t.
After much snorting and harrumphing we got the makeshift harness around the ladies. My students and I donned sticks and started the march to a fecund porcine destiny. About five steps into the pilgrimage I witnessed the demons being cast into the swine. Pigs running, students yelling, sticks switching, and me, standing, smiling. This is my life. It’s funny how it hits you. I live in Africa. I teach students about irrigation and get soaked in the process. I get covered in literal-shit teaching students about adding nutrients to their gardens. It takes a voodoo- like spell and an unplugging, switch –flipping ritual to encourage my ancient inverter to produce electricity, yet I say a grateful prayer each time a light bulb flicks on. I hike 4 miles one way for peanut butter and cherish every drop. I ride buses for four hours standing squished in someones armpit listening to deafennig accordion music while holding on for dear life because we're careening around blind corners, then I pay for this experience. Yes, this is my life.
Eventually we lifted the poor distraught Hams into the back of a truck and drove them to meet Romeo. They must’ve known because as soon as we arrived at Lucky 7 they hopped daintily out of the pick-up and walked directly into Casanova’s abode. This week we’ve been checking on the pigs up at Lucky 7. My British friend refers to this as "seeing to piggy sexy time.” Yup, this is my life.