The clouds had cleared and there was still time before the sun fell behind the mountains so when I got to the top of the hill, where I was supposed to turn left to head home, I kept going. I cycled past the airport and up another hill that took me away from the highway, and away from the river. The slopping green fields started to fill with houses and shops began to line the road. It was a new town.
As I cycled past I heard someone yell. It sounded like they were yelling at me. Was that my name? I looked back and saw two girls sitting in front of a house I just passed. One of them was holding a baby and waving. I was too far past to recognize anyone, and occasionally people just yell at me cause I’m a foreigner. I kept cycling. I went to the edge of this new town and down a dirt road until a pack of wild dogs charged me, barking aggressively, and made me turn around. The sun was falling quickly and I figured this would be a good time to head home.
On my way back, I looked over just in time to see the same two girls, one of them still holding a baby and waving. I must know them, I thought, and turned around.
I saw the same two girls on my way back and this time recognized one holding the baby. I stopped and walked my bike over to them.
“Isabel, hola, como estas?”
Isabel and her husband Jose were friends of mine. I didn’t know they lived in this town beyond my own neighborhood at the edge of the city.
“Ya viene, Jose—Jose is on his way. Sit down.”
Jose and Isabel sell balls of fried plantain and coffee in front of their house each evening. Jose walked out with a pot filled with the balls and a stack of plastic cups. I sat down and ate and drank with them but before I could finish a pick-up truck pulled up with a 300-pound pig squealing in the back.
“He’s going to impregnate our pig,” said Jose. “Come on, let’s watch.”
I had heard of this before, a bull or pig that travels around impregnating cows or pigs. It seemed such a strange job to have, to be a pimp for domestic animals.
The two pigs were each massive, about 300 pounds each.
I’d never seen this profession in action before so I’m not sure how usual this is, but the pig had a hard time getting his squiggly penis inside—yes, his penis came out of his body like a pulsing corkscrew which was strange enough on its own. Anyway, because of the trouble and because the man who pimps his pig for a living only get his $15 once the female was confirmed pregnant, he entered the pen. He knelt next to the pair, grabbed the penis and put it in himself. He stayed there and put it back in whenever it fell out.
I finished my plantain ball, and went home.
These are the things that happen when we cycle to new places.