An unsavoury surprise

The headless, skinned pig appeared on Torquay’s main street around 10am on a Tuesday. The enormous pink animal was marched down the footpath, weaving between active wear and take away coffees and acai bowls, as it made its journey from the delivery truck to the butcher. If you were walking towards it, you could see right into the gaping red wound where its neck used to be. From behind, its hind legs dangled over the delivery man’s shoulder, trotters swaying back and forth as if dancing to some silent morbid tune.

Needless to say, it attracted some uneasy looks.

Now, I eat bacon. I order it when I’m out for breakfast. I love it maple glazed and slightly crispy around the edges. I also know where it comes from and that something’s had to die for me to enjoy it.

But to be honest, when I’m biting into a salty, sweet, chewy mouthful I’m not associating it with this headless carcass that I saw parading down Gilbert street that morning (not to mention the well-documented animal abuse occurring during most animal agriculture).  

In fact, if someone were to describe this sight to me while I was eating my eggs hollandaise, I’d probably ask them to shut their mouth until the end of my meal. Which is embarrassing, really, because that’s the reality of how this food gets to my plate and I should have to acknowledge that before I make the decision to eat it.

We live in a highly sanitised world. Meat’s an obvious one. Pre-slaughtered and pre-packaged and even re-named, it’s easy to disassociate the final product with its origin – especially if it comes in the form of a chicken nugget or Big Mac.

But there is a dozen more things I use each day which are divorced from the reality of their creation. Most of my clothes are make in Asia, probably in terrible working conditions. The creation of the plastics in the packaging that wrapped my new toothbrush produced pollution and the plastic itself will probably become pollution.

I know these things, but still. It’s so easy to forget. It’s so much less confronting not to question. It’s so tempting to let our decisions about the way we want to live be made for us by our distance from how the world works. And as these processes become even more mechanised and digitised, it’s only going to become easier to ignore.

So sometimes we need a reality check. Sometimes we need to be strolling down Torquay’s main street on our way to brunch and nearly walk face first into a headless carcass. Sometimes we need to be shocked into taking the power of making those decisions back, taking some responsibility for our actions and making more informed choices.

As much as I don’t like the image of it in my head, I’m thankful for that pig. Not only for its sacrifice but for reminding me how easy it is to consume mindlessly.