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That Goose is Cooked!

My mentee and I are from very different cultures. I come from a rural part of eastern Canada where I grew up in a sheltered, white middle-class environment. My mentee and her family come from the Democratic Republic of Congo, which she left with her family because of the political instability and violence as a young child. But now we both find ourselves living out our lives in Southern Johannesburg.

I mention this difference in culture, because our culture impacts so greatly on every aspect of our lives, including the food we eat and how we prepare it. For me, meat has always come neatly packaged on a Styrofoam tray wrapped in plastic, blood free and ready for the oven. For my mentee’s family, meat often comes with feathers, still breathing and squawking.

I came to this realisation when I wandered into my mentee’s kitchen to take my cup to the sink and was confronted with The Goose. She was sitting on some newspaper next to the freezer, with her feet bound. She was quietly awaiting her fate, and seemed to have made her peace. She looked at me in my eye and I became complicit in her impending end. I had to leave the room.

My mentee’s father said to her mother, “I told you not to show Stacey the duck.” (They didn’t know the word for “goose” in English.) “She’d be too traumatised.” The mother of the house couldn’t understand why I’d be traumatised. This was just food. And I have to admit there is a certain amount of hypocrisy in being an omnivore who doesn’t have the stomach to confront where the meat I consume really comes from. These thoughts were bouncing around in my head as I got invited to dinner on Monday afternoon. And there was no doubt as to what would be on the menu.

So I’m faced with a dilemma. I could think of an excuse and stay away in solidarity with The Goose. Or I could try and put myself in their shoes (empathy) to see this for what it was; an incredibly generous invitation to fellowship, sharing and thanksgiving at God’s provision. I accepted the invitation, to the surprise and pleasure of my mentee.

When I arrived that Monday, The Goose looked a lot like the meat I was more familiar with. It was oven-ready. I didn’t have to witness the slaughter or remove the feathers (maybe next time?) but I did pitch in by making the stuffing and the gravy. What followed was a great evening of sharing and story telling. I felt closer to my mentee and her family because of this experience.

Mentoring offers us the precious space to provide input into the life of another. But if we’re open and attentive, it also offers us the opportunity to step outside of our comfort zone and connect on a deep emotional level with other human beings. I am a richer person for this experience. The Goose’s sacrifice was not in vain.