There are one pastime we loved while eating and that is eating too much which are too often leaving us feeling bloated and a distinct paranoia of a glutton devouring almost entirely everything one gets his hands on. When we feast, we loved the famous “lechon” or roast pork. Its one staple in a Filipino’s home every feast, birthdays, wedding, and even to death. Ironically, how it was made into and before it reaches our soft palate, the journey of the roast pig tells a staunch reminder of our own life and the art of living at the same time embracing the inevitable art of dying mercilessly in the hands of the butcher.
One in afterthought can give deep sense of remorse that after eating the sumptuous meal each feast that one life has been taken to feed many. In fact, the irony of it is that in most parties, the “lechon” is the most favoured viand over the rest but truly, have one thought how the life of someone we knew could end up in one’s table, in one’s plate and in one’s palate? We never even question it for the very same reason we enjoyed the sumptuous viand but really, did anyone took care considering life and death while we see the red crisp skin of a roast pig?
The irony of death in such fashion is nonetheless emphasized but we choose not to look at death but we took at it in such gastronomic delight and fancy its own juices, its tasty meat and the crispy skin. In all honesty, can one be deeper in understanding life and death in an instant one find a “lechon” on the table? No one. No one because we forget about it the moment we tasted it. Similarly, the one who eat death enjoys it at an instant and feels bloated and fed. But in this, have you try living the life of a pig? What life has you to choose not to be carted off to the slaughter and butchered for someone’s delight? What life have you to choose not to scream at the top of your voice praying for mercy and just wanting to live any longer, produce offspring like others do and grow older until its harder to carry even the belly? What life has you to choose to live in the surrounding mists, in the ground and the earth, in the left-overs each day than to be served as a sumptuous meal to everyone in the feast?
It is just however understandable that a feast will never be complete if a roast pork is absent in the dinner table but have you even thought of yourself hogtied on the bamboo, red crisp skin, with an apple on your mouth served in perfect delectable condition? I do not wished that one day we may think that life will be too easy to give up that we unwittingly end up in someone’s own table, someone’s own plate and someone’s own palate.