September 6, 2009

Ramadan is practiced by almost all




Antonym of tasteless

by Matt Freire

Fingers clench the head back as the rusty knife saws into the throat
The captives’ cries turn to sputtering then silence as blood sprays the gravel
The spine resists the blade
But the continual saw eventual separates the head from the body
the mouth still motions as if finding breath to call the body
The legs twitch and randomly kick as if trying to locate the head

One down
The next bound victim is grabbed
Crying as if it knows its fate
yet helpless
even though only grass bound the legs
The blade draws a red line across the neck
This time stopped at the spine
Perhaps because blood sprayed into the knife bearer’s mouth

An explosion in the distance
Diverts our attention

From our vantage we can see the smoke
VBED
IED
Who knows
It creates a stir for awhile
Then back to task at hand

These guys are hungry
It’s Ramadan and they fast when the sun is up
Waiting till 1820 tonight
It will be dark then

Meet hook slides into the first’s leg and is strung up on a HESCO
And the years of skinning is witness by my virgin eyes
A slice in the ankle and then grab the skin
Pull the skin off as if it were a tight jacket that the zipper broke
Readjust, a few well place cuts
Bare hands digging and pulling
Until the whole coat is off

Lot less bloody then I imagined
The only real bloody part has already happened
Even when they hack off the appendages
And when they slice the belly

The organs are just as you would think
I thought as the intestines plopped on the ground
The same as you see in movies
More vivid in color though

But hardly any blood

A board is placed on the ground where the meat goes
Men get to work removing bone and the unnecessary
All without gloves
I imagine this process hasn’t changed much

rusty knives and bayonets continue their worth
to the kitchen
the smell is ancient, as is the room
blackened walls
stale archaic presence

well water is poured on the meat
and drained into a hole that puddles outside
the meat is rinsed and sifted through
cut even smaller
a pile of onions in the corner is sifted through and deiced by the same blades used on the flesh

a man starts sweeping
I would have picked a better time
Dirt lands on uncovered flesh
as the fire starts
dust picks up
anything that can burn is thrown in flame
Plastic bottles create hot flames
and blinding smoke

the dark room hardly ventilated
and my eyes burn and water
my throat and lungs shred
my nose pours relentlessly
yet these guys go about their work unaffected

the fire starts dying
diesel helps it along

a large iron pot is set
water and cans of lard fill half the pot
the chef hawks loogies on the ground as he stirs the goat
other ingredients are added

flour starts to be beat in the other room
molded into little balls to be flattened and thrown into the flame

my hunger builds
yet they must wait till dark before eating
more patient than i
I am starving
Ramadan is practiced by almost all
So I wait with them

Actually I sneak off and eat an MRE
Then wait with them

1 comment:

  1. you are an honest writer, so it seems. there is humor in your stuff, too. you create telling images. i look forward to your postings, your photographs and your writing. thank you for creating this account of your time in afghanistan. it is real to have your account. there's no politics. your opinion and your thoughts and your perspective of what is happening around YOU. you are honest in these things and candid that you serve willingly and knowingly, that you are happy to work along side fighting soldiers. thank you

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