The Death of My Goat, Creative Essay Example

“Grandma ties my goat with a rope and daddy hangs the goat on a tree. Grandpa takes the machete and warm goat blood goes all over my face, my new dress and shoes. I loved that dress because it was the only dress i ever got from my mother and that’s the only dress she can afford, but now its ruin with goat blood. I run to mommy and she panics. Mommy grabs me and asks if I was hurt. She takes her piece of head clothes and wipes my face. She cleans my dress but it remains with the blood stains.

I feel so disgusted about my only dress that I loved most. It is the only dress that I wear on Sundays and during ceremonies. I then cried over my moomy who consoles and promises to buy me another one when the drought season is over when she gets the money. I feel that if I had the ability I will hit my grandpa who is cutting my goat. Instead of saying sorry to me he asks to get out of the place where they are slaughtering the goat. This is the first time I feel that it as if I dislike my grandpa. I do not want them to kill my goat that I love. It is the only goat I have and love most.

My daddy is not even looking at me or what they have done to my dress. He is very busy holding my helpless dying goat. I do not want to look at my helpless dying goat. The goat was a present I was given by my aunt who stays in the United States when she visited us during my birth day. My aunt asked me to rear the goat until the time she is back and get a young one.

My grandfather and daddy had decides to slaughter it because of the drought that that is encroaching our whole country. All the livestock have nothing to eat and others are dying out of starvation. The whole village takes out there livestock to other places. There is no even a single grass for my goat to eat. I used to collect vegetable remains like cabbage for my goat. Water was also a great problem. My daddy asks me to slaughter my goat before it dies as other live stocks were dying out of starvation. We are also hungry because we do not have anything to eat.

My grandpa removes the skin and the inner parts of the fresh. He asks daddy to get the somewhere to put the blood. Gandpa cuts the fresh into smaller pieces and sticks it on a wire. Daddy grabs a pot and put the goat’s blood in it while grandma fixes the fire. Daddy fried the blood with salt and spicy pepper while grandma cleans the goats head with lemon and vinegar for soup, and uses the rest of the goat for roasting. The bool tests smells and tests bad. After my goat was cooked, grandma called the whole family in the yard for dinner. Grandma takes the knife and cuts the meat for everyone. Everybody grabs a plate and eats till they are full. I dislike the pepper because it tastes bitter. Uncle takes his guitar and we sing. I loved my goat but he taste good.”