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THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A PIG FARMER'S LIFE
By MICHAEL DOM

Until you have seen your hands blistering
Until you have felt sweat break like fever
Before another new gardens planting

Until you have cleaned the piss and manure
Cut, carried and replaced sodden bedding
Until you have closed the sow with the boar

Until then you only have an inkling
Of what a pig farmer does every day
For the fat pig meat that you are eating

You will never know what it means to say
To us, "agriculture is our back bone"
Until you know the sweat and costs we pay

For a simple meal, in our simple home
Sweet potatoes baked around the fire place
Cups of tea with sugar, lucky for some

And every day we hear about your race
To bring development to your people
But we know that your heart has no more space

If you will not share the gris pik with all
One day your house built from our bones will fall.

Terza rima

gris pik = literally pig grease, .i.e. pig fat, usually eaten as part of customary feast and shared in traditional settings to demonstrate wealth or friendship; traditional leaders are expected to kill many pigs and share the pig fat with all their people and with other clans to demonstrate their greatness and generosity, and thereby maintain social and political ties.

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