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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.