the whistling cow *

I was on my regular trip to Nias Island, the target of the recent 8.7 richter scale earthquake. The humanitarian organization where I am working for was going to open a sub office over there. Here I am, boarding a small airplane with five passengers including a pilot and her co pilot. Yes, the pilot is a she and the co pilot is her husband. They own this small plane. I'd rather call it flying tin.

I'm starving to death. My colleague said we should be able to find a decent lunch in Nias. After a full day of walking in and out of demolished neighborhood shattered to the debris my the yawning giant turtle, we ended up at this government house. It's the big house of the regent. The King of Nias, so to speak.

I do not eat pork. I just don't like it. Call me vegetarian. A lacto ovo
vegetarian. Give me eggs and I'll settle on them. We bumped into the eatery, which is not a cafe. D'oh! No cafe nor road eatery on Nias. They're all flattened to the earth by the quake, remember? So I was hoping for a fulfilling lunch of fried omelette, rich in grease and carbohydrate with used frying oil and added bleached flour.

"Grilled Pork and Spicy Minced Dog Meat"
That's the only thing the food hawker has!

Cows are whistling to their victory on Nias Island.
I saw bunch of them roaming the debris-filled streets of Nias.
They are the survivors of the quake.



* This story is inspired by a friend who is working for Islamic Relief in Banda Aceh, NAD. I have never set my foot on Nias myself.