Walking Pigs and Stroking Cocks

Yesterday was a great day of accomplishments and humor. My G8 kids finished presenting a project that they started in January. It was a “you’re about to enter HS so you should learn this stuff” kind of assignment that I adapted from another school where I used to teach. It was empowering, fist-pounding, entertaining and challenging. For them too! My GS students I am sure didn’t like parts of writing a research paper, keeping a journal or documenting project hours, but they did and did it well. So creative!  They came up with new green products to sell and creative ways to educate about endangered animals, organic gardening, pollution, plastic and more.

While we took a break for lunch during our presentations, I was wowing the kids with my 80’s music (we had a speaker system set up...dance party!) when a little black scorpion walked by. Teachable moment! As I was backing away I said, “please don’t get bitten. You might not be able to present afterwards.” But of course the G8 boys swarmed and had fun poking at it until one of the girls politely intervened and carried it away on a leaf. She’s tough.

And later, motor biking home, I couldn’t help but smile when I saw a man walking his rather large black pig down the street. Rather large being the size of a calf. I wanted to stop and take a pic, but in traffic, no way. So I just smiled to myself. Oh Bali. This isn’t a new spectacle but one you see fairly often. I think the male pigs are for breeding and get walked to the prospective sow. The handler has a little stick he keeps poking at the slow pig, which is tethered with a rope leash. All in major rush hour traffic. All humane. Until it's ceremony time requiring a swine offering. Then the squealing is heard from far away. 

So just as I am really nearing home, breathing out carefully through the ride fields slash piles and garbage burnings so as not to inhale the dense smoke, I realized it was hold your cock night. Yes, that’s true. About twice a week the men in my village (and all over Bali I am sure) sit in circles outside a family compound and hold (and stroke) their colorful cocks, proudly displaying for all to see. And the roosters are proud too. J I think they get together before the actual cockfight to entice the birds to kill each other. It just looks so odd the first few times. Then I laugh at myself, as I giggle out loud about the guys holding their cocks. It gets me every time.

And as I ride on the little cement path through the rice fields to my house, I think about how adept I have become on the motorbike. I am no longer absolutely terrified and I can weave successfully through traffic, toot my horn quickly if need be, memorize the latest pothole location, navigate around the other people on this one-size-only path and turn across oncoming traffic without a panic attack. Oh, and remember to put down the face shield before I get to a rice field area (or after 6pm) so I don’t eat and breathe little bugs. 

I finally arrive home, let the kitties out and Wayan brings me a young coconut to drink. 

Oh Bali!