milking reality

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hadn't really had breakfast before leaving for akagera so after about 4 hours of twisty, hilly, bumpy roads, i started to feel a bit queasy. we stopped at the rangers' station for a rest and the guide offered me some milk.

"is it fresh?" "yes. it is. it is cow's milk. it comes from just over the hill, i will show you." i
start drinking and wandering around the compound.

i walked into the kitchen and saw the cook was up to something, so i asked my guide if it would be possible to get some potatoes or something small to settle my stomach.

"only the meat is ready." "ok."

he comes out with a plate of meat in kabob sized pieces.

"what is it?" i ask, hoping for something exciting.

"cow." oh.

"it comes from the same place that i will show you." "ok."

i eat a piece. a little tough for my taste, but otherwise ok.

i look down. the cup of milk is sitting there, unfinished. suddenly, the concept of "thou shant cook a calf in its mother's milk" became a little too real.

i've seen the size of these flocks. they're not big.

i had to pour out rest of the milk.

jewish guilt strikes again.

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