Your Bacon Use to Oink

“But ever since he had been a child, he had wanted to know the world, and this was much more important to him than knowing god and learning about man’s sins.”


As we were walking down the street of a fairly large city I stopped to watch as an older gentleman who was selling chickens cut the throat of one of the flailing birds as a one year old child squatted beside it completely unperturbed sort of playing with its feathers. He watched as the man handed the now dead bird to his mother and got up to join her and the three dead birds they were taking home for dinner. Like most children here (and in the rest of the world) this little boy knows full well that the chicken on his plate came from the clucking animal he just saw die, a fact that I among most Americans choose to ignore at home with our daintily packaged meats that yield no clues that bacon use to oink, or that beef use to moo.


If you a vegetarian you have every right to be disgusted, but chances are, most of you cringing in your seats at the thought of a headless bleeding chicken have eaten one before. And therefore, one has been killed for you before. And therefore, you really have no right to turn away and ignore the fact that every time you eat meat, you are eating an animal. I’m not a vegetarian (though I don’t eat a whole lot of meat), and though I’m an avid animal lover and cuddler, seeing how animals are openly killed and displayed for sale (whole) in most of the world has been an important lesson to me in realizing, truly realizing, that meat does not come from a package.


It’s also a lesson I want to take back home with me since once we arrive back in Oregon I plan to only eat meat that we kill – fish and crab that we catch, chickens that we raise, and deer that Kevin shoots with his bow – because I think it’s more environmentally friendly, more humane, and a good way to remember that every bite of meat you eat comes from an animal.

Dinner anyone? I know it’s horrible, but oh so true. What do you think a Turkish kebab is made from?


Burger anyone?


A little bacon seed!


Since the blog is always a few weeks behind (due to inconsistent internet) feel free to find me on Facebook or on Instagram at @awanderingphoto where I give small updates and post recent pictures when I get wifi! Also, if you haven’t already noticed I’ve been slowly remodeling the site as we are now “The Wandering Nomads.” Make sure to check out The Nomads section, The Trip section, and The Solo Women section since those are the ones I have had time to update so far!

9 thoughts on “Your Bacon Use to Oink

  1. Oh my gosh Shirine!! This is one of the most important lessons you can learn!!!! With an animal science degree, and one who grew up in 4H raising cattle, I cannot tell you how amazing it is to hear that you are raising your meat yourself. So many people are so detached from death that we do 1 of 2 things, 1. We couldnt care less. We have no respect for the animal and the life it gave and therefore further detach ourselves from the sacrifices of this world or 2. Become so outraged that we enforce laws and create hate and make it impossible for small farmers to make it in life or big corporations to act humane. I took a meats lab class in college and it was a huge eye opener, and that comes from someone who grew up with cattle, only eating our own meat. We grew beef and traded a half side for someone else’s homegrown hog. My dad hunts elk/deer. Thats all the meat we eat. I know exactly what went into it and how it was treated through life. Very good lesson.

  2. Très beau blog Shirine, belles images représentatives de ton propos! Je te verrais bien entreprendre une carrière en journalisme de terrain ou au sein d’une ONG à ton retour (médecins sans frontières, OXFAM, ,,,)! Bravo!
    Cependant, de belles résolutions que je soupçonne fort difficiles à respecter une fois revenue en Oregon. Adhérer au végétarisme sera sans doute plus simple que d’abattre toi-même les animaux que tu bouffes! hahaha!
    Je penses à toi à chaque fois je roule sur mon vélo!!! J’ai l’impression de partager ton trip!

  3. Really good blog post. I remember when I was younger, cannot remember how old I was (I am 20 and my memory is already going, slight concern but ah well) but my dad kept trying to inform me and my brother were our pre-prepared meat came from. He is a chef, well now he runs his own catering company, but he has an absolute disgust for processed foods. He has never liked going to fast food restaurants or pick-up restaurants (such as Domino’s, though our family has never been a big fan of these places), but I think he always hated seeing me and my brother fail to understand where packaged meat came from, as we always turned a blind eye to it.

    So when Christmas was coming, he kind of tricked me and my brother into thinking we were getting a Christmas tree. I say kind of tricked us, because we did get the Christmas tree, but we also visited one of my dad’s friends who owns a farm, and who helps to source my dad’s food for work. Basically, he showed me and my brother where meat came from… by killing two chickens in front of us, though it was the farmer who did it as it was deemed humane.

    Look at me, I sound over dramatic.

    Very interesting that this post brought back that memory. Looking back on it now, I never really took it as a valuable lesson until my late teenage years. My brother is a vegetarian now, he cannot really stomach meat though I hardly doubt it was a result of witnessing the death of two chickens. I myself refuse to buy or consume processed meat sold at Supermarkets or local shops.

    Great blog post.

    I look forward to reading more.

    • Wow, that’s cruel but smart of your dad, and I bet now you guys are happy for it even if you haven’t thought of it much. Kevin and I definitely want this to be a lesso we pass on to our children as well, as your dad did to you.

  4. This post reminded me of the first time I saw an animal slaughtered (I haven’t seen that many). I was less than ten years old then. It happened near my Uncle’s, in the outskirts of the city. A crowd had gathered so my cousin said that we should look. When we got there, we saw a freshly slaughtered lamb. What piqued the crowd’s interest was not the lamb itself but what was inside it. Apparently, the lamb was pregnant with several tiny lambs! There was a tinge of sadness from the owner’s face (I think it was the owner), from guilt or from wasted potential income, I do not know.

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