11th August 2010 – Not for the Vegetarians

I found out what a méchoui was the next morning when I looked out of the bathroom window. I had a mouthful of toothpaste froth which I choked on in shocked disbelief, running back to the basin to spit it out ungracefully before I suffered total asphyxiation. In front of the barn where Theotim had shown me the newborn calf was a yellow, digger-like piece of farm machinery. From the tallest part of it was hanging a sheep. Around the sheep´s neck was a rough necklace of bright red, visibly dripping onto the ground below and collecting in a deathly puddle. A méchoui was a festival dish of North African origin: a full sheep, skewered and cooked on a spit over a fire. It wasn´t clear to me why they had a méchoui at La Range, but nevertheless it appeared to be a family tradition. And I was going to miss it! This was my last day, and the méchoui wasn´t until Sunday. For the first time, I felt regret at the thought of leaving; it would have been interesting to experience that particular celebration.