The early morning light filtered through small openings between the two curtains sending sharply defined beams of light into my room. I glanced up at the clock through one partially open eye, already knowing what time it was. For years my internal alarm clock went off at 5:30 give or take 5 minutes but force of habit made me look anyway.
It was December 31 in Cuba, the outlaw state. Like all December 31st, it was to be a day of festivity that started early. As I sat drinking my coffee, strong and sweet; the first sound, a familiar sound pierced the air. I had heard this sound thousands of times over the past six years and today it would be heard a hundred more.
Walking down any street the unmistakeable sound of a pig squealing raises the hair on the back of your neck, like fingernails being dragged across a blackboard.
There is a bridge a few blocks from my house and on either side of the bridge and each side of the street there are several large trees providing shade from the torturous, unrelenting sun. Congregating here are vendors selling live pigs strapped to makeshift pallets attached to their bicyles. One may have a pig weighing 80 to 100 pounds, another may have two weighing 40 to 50 pounds and yet another vendor with three or four piglets. Regardless of size they all have one thing in common. They all know how to squeal. There are hundreds of locations; look for a large tree and 9 times out of 10 there will be someone there selling three little pigs and not a wolf in sight.
The little pigs will be taken home and fed for a few months until they weigh 80 to 100 pounds and then their fate is sealed. They will be sold or be the main course for a celebration. The prices of a live pig vary depending on the size and range anywhere from 8 pesos a pound for little ones and up to 12 or 13 pesos a pound for a large one, depending on the color. Usually a white pig will fetch a little more because there is usually a higher meat to fat ratio on a white pig. However once the outer skin has been removed they are all white.
Normally the larger pigs will end up in a day or two being sold by the pound from the porch of someone's house and that could be another story in itself because sanitary is a word in the dictionary between sanitarium and sanity and neither are seldom used here nor does it matter.
If someone is celebrating a birthday, there is a pig on a spit involved. However, any old excuse will do to drink rum and roast a pig, for I am among happy people, poor but happy.
Today is December 31st and a pig bought today will be put on a spit to celebrate "Treinta Uno".
The squealing starts early morning as the pig is dragged out of the pen and washed down, his first and last bath. Killing a dirty pig is a no no. Once the pig has been scrubbed clean, the squealing gets a little louder as it is placed on it's back, on the ground or some table top fabricated from whatever is available like an old door propped on anything that will support it. The pig is held down usually by two guys until it relaxes. One of the two will run his finger down the center of the pigs chest feeling for a space between the ribs almost directly in line with the front legs. One can feel their hearts beating rapidly, both yours and the pigs.
A long knife with a sharp point is readied and in one thrust; pushed through the rib cage and directly into the heart. Now begins the familiar sound that defines squealing. "Squeal like a stuck pig" hasn't been coined for nothing. The pig starts thrashing and squealing like the stuck pig that it is and it is all that two men can do to hold it down. The squealing can be heard for blocks and goes on sometimes for several minutes slowly tapering off to silence.
I remember my first time, like an idiot I let go of the handle of the knife and nearly lost a finger as the knife thrashed back and forth on the bucking, squealing, squirming, kicking for it's life pig.
On December 31 and many, many other festive occasions here in Cuba, you can hear that sound on every street and rivers of blood flow in back yards, patios, porches and in the streets. Remember the word "sanitation", nobody here does.
Everywhere in streets and alleys you can see large pots filled with water precariously balanced on a couple of bricks or rocks. The smell of burning wood and clouds of smoke float through the city like early morning mountain mist. The water is heated to boiling.
While the water is being heated, the rum comes out. I have often wondered how many injuries by boiling water occur every year. If you saw how these pots were balanced and saw the person dipping the tin cup you just know that some devine intervention is at work.
Boiling water dipped from the large pots is poured over the pig loosening the outer skin. The same sharp knife is then scraped over the skin which now peels off easily. No matter what color the pig started out, his football skin is white. After the skin has been scraped clean a razor is passed over the skin to remove any tiny hairs that may have been missed.
More rum is passed around and everyone drinks from the same bottle or if one is available, a glass or cup or tin can or beer can or any other vessel that happens to be nearby, once again, that unused "S" word is never an issue. I am not a squimish kind of guy but I can't tell you how many times I have had to suck it up to not offend and drink from something I would not allow my dog to drink from. The only saving grace, I guess is that it is rum and I need to believe that God created alcohol to kill germs.
Once the pig has been scraped clean outside including it's ears as far as one can see and the outer part of the toenails removed, it is slit open and all internal organs removed. A cut is made entirely around the anus and genital area and if it happens to be a male extra care taken with those parts, one wrong cut and the meat will be virtually spoiled. I will not get into how vial that smell is and I don't care how much vinegar or lemon juice you wash the meat with, it still smells and tastes bad, "Binder Dundat".
Great care is taken so as not to perforate the bowel and this is removed intact along with the intestines. The heart and liver are washed and saved for another day or sold to someone who can't afford a pig but can afford to buy those and or the head which will be thrown into someone's large pot for "la caldosa" derived from the spanish word "caldo" or broth .
La Caldosa, hodge podge of everything edible is thrown into a similarly large pot and cooked over an open fire, sometimes the same one that was used to boil the water to scrape the pig. Yucca, calabaza, chichero, beans and of course the pigs head are all added to the broth. I have always had a problem with that and refuse to eat "la caldosa" if I see a pigs ear sticking out.
My thought pattern is this. We all know that a pig is a pig and if you have ever looked closely at a pigs nose you just know that it has been in places where even the bravest of men would never put their hand even with a rubber glove. Even though the pigs head is washed, I always wonder how they could ever clean it's nose and ears, the inside I am talking about here. One thing is abundantly clear, it gets really clean boiling in a pot for a few hours and nothing more needs to be said about "la caldosa", because I digress.
The rum continues to be an integral part of this process and in the hour or so it has taken to get the pig cleaned and prepped, a couple of bottles can be put to bed. Neighbors will show up to help or watch or to just drink rum and if your lucky they will be carrying a bottle or a beer can full of rum or if you are really lucky a litre pop bottle full of rum. A note about rum. Cuba is known for it's rum but it comes in varying degrees of refinement.
Vigia (bee-he-ah) at $64.00 (dollars) for a 750 ml. bottle is 18 years old when bottled and is a one shot savor type of rum and has absolutely no place even close to this process. However, what could hardly be distinguishable from 93 octane unleaded premium at $57.00 (pesos - a touch over two dollars) for a two litre plastic bottle is still rum and still gives the buzz and is the perfect match for this.
Just close your eyes, suck it up and drink. Do not offend by saying no because if you are there for the kill you are there for the rum. Do not breath through your mouth and do not blow chunks. Pace yourself, the pig isn't on the BBQ yet and it is only 9:00 in the morning and your half in the bag already and if you are really lucky you still have all your fingers.
Pace yourself.
Family and friends will start arriving around 1:00 PM and the music changes for loud to out of control and the serious rum consumption begins. Usually that is when all the good rum comes out, although this is still not the right place for a bottle of Vigia. A bottle of good Habana Club white rum cost under $4.00 dollars and a good amber seven year old reserve, under $7.00 dollars but again I digress.
The pit is prepared around 4:00 PM with charcoal that has been manufactured in the country in large earthen mounds using marabu trees, a prolific tree that covers vast areas of the country side and once established nearly impossible to eradicate. A large sack costs $25.00 pesos (1 dollar) and depending on the size of the pig may require two sacks to barbeque correctly, which is not always the case. Drunk is drunk and hungry is hungry.
The pig has been skewered and wired onto a long metal pole about 4 meters in length with a crank handle to turn it and has been leaning against the roof or a tree covered in flys for the last several hours but he has already had his one and only bath and sanitary is not a word today.
The pole is long so that one can sit a good distance away from the fire when you take your turn on the crank. The good or bad thing, depending on your perspective, about being on crank duty is that you become the target for every bottle, glass or tin cup of rum and if you are smart you don't want to be on crank duty too long. Remember, pace yourself.
The pit has been prepared, the charcoal lit and the pig set suspended by ropes attached to poles driven into the ground. The cranking and swilling will take about 4 hours and it is at this time that everyone gets into the party mood in a serious fashion and you cannot sit still with Cuban Salsa blasting from the stereo.
All the neighbours will stop by, drink, dance and take a turn on the crank and being a good neighbour means that they won't be going home without a large plate of fresh roasted pig and everything required to make a meal for the family.
