Light of life

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After growing for roughly 115 days in mommy’s tummy, I’m born early in the morning. It’s a Tuesday, I think.

Mommy has 19 kids this time. When I see the first light of life, already three brothers and two sisters have been born. Some are yawning, we’re all covered in slime. One of my brothers isn’t moving. Is he still asleep?

 

What a big world! I see a bright light that shines in my eyes, it’s quite warm. And yet, it’s cold. The cool air tickles my wet skin. The walls of the world are tall and dark, the floor is bleak.

 

There’s a lot of noise around me, I hear yelling and crying, children are being born, mommies are moaning out in pain, babies are crying, ...

 

Mommy is stuck between metal bars, this way she can’t crush us by accident when she’s asleep. It’s not fun for her. I can’t imagine mommy crushing any one of us; if only she would have more space to roll and turn, then it wouldn’t be a problem.

If she eats too much, the metal bars will press against her belly and back. And it’s already so tight.

 

When all my eighteen brothers and sisters have come into this world, it becomes apparent that six of them didn’t survive. Mommy is wailing, we do too.

One of my sisters is very weak, one of my brothers too. Mommy fears that they won’t make it through the night. Mommy sobs even more. Mommy laments the entire day while we try to drink from her milk and cry with her.

 

Our first steps out of mommy’s tummy are weird. It’s a strange world out here.

Mommy is heartbroken.

I see other mommies with their kids. All mommies are mournful. Our dark world is somber. The bright, warm lights are not enough to make our mommies content.

 

We get a lot of food, we all grow into little chubbies. Soon we become bigger chubbies. Our childish bodies aren’t meant to eat that much, to take up so many nutrients, but what else can you do? There is nothing to do around here. We can’t play, we can’t run, we can’t frolic, … we can only eat and sleep.

 

When we get bigger, even though we are still small children, a man comes to take some of us away. Each one of us that’s a bit sick, is taken away. Each one of us who doesn’t eat enough, is taken away. We are all so very afraid.

 

This goes on for a couple of months. Eat, sleep, eat, sleep. Be afraid. Eat, sleep.

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Drive

 

The doors slide open. There’s a light that feels different from the light in our living quarters. This light feels warm, even though it’s cold outside. It feels refreshing and nourishing. Is this … sunlight?

 

We are pushed and moved with sticks. If we aren’t fast enough, we are hit. Sometimes we are even beaten without any reason. Our dry skin breaks easily. We are also stumped with boots. Or slapped on our heads. Or clubbed with some blunt object. I also saw a sharp object, but I can’t tell if someone was hurt with it, even though I can only assume as much.

 

They force us into a small corridor. They keep on squeezing. We’re cramped up with around 200, divided over several compartments. There’s hardly any space left to turn. Everyone is hurt, some are in worse conditions than others. Henk, for example, limps. His leg is infected. But they don’t care. What’s even worse, he wasn’t fast enough, so he got a beating. Even on his infected leg.

 

I have a whole bunch of scratches on my whole body and my face. Everybody has scratches over their whole body. There’s a lot of pushing going on between us, there’s scratching, beating, stumping, biting, … Boredom, frustration, fear, not knowing what will happen … we can’t always control ourselves.

 

It’s cold. It’s raining. Those on the outside get wet; we - in the center - are more lucky. 

Our stomachs are rumbling, we are hungry. And thirsty. We haven’t eaten or had anything to drink in several days.

While those on the outside are getting wet from the rain, and will sooner suffer from hypothermia, they do manage to get a few drops of rain in them and get to drink just a tiny bit.

 

The small corridor is moving. We are being shaken up. We get even more frustrated and scared. The biting, stomping, pushing and shoving continues. Wounds are more rule than exception.

 

We’re stuck in this small corridor for a long time. The shaking continues, the frustration and fear remain. The rain doesn’t stop. There is a lot of noise outside. We are loud as well. We are afraid and cry out for help, but it seems as if no one can hear us - or wants to hear us; no one can see us - or wants to see us. We see people passing by. They see us, but do nothing. We are doomed.

 

The long, moving corridor stops. There’s a huge construction. Several bodies are on the concrete. Is this our fate? Lying dead on the ground in the cold and rain?

There’s a stench.

 

The doors open. The roof opens. A man mingles in between us. He holds a metal object. We are afraid, petrified. He screams and rages. Out of fear, we scream too. Help us, anyone? What will happen?

 

The man hits the ones in front, they burst out of the corridor. We have to leave the corridor, into a larger area. People, dressed in white clothes, await us. The white clothes are stained with red. Our group slowly moves towards the larger area, filled with fear, but with no other options.

One of us tries to escape to the back, but it is no use. The man wildly hits us. He screams. We cry.

 

 

Last breath

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We are shoved through small corridors, divided by metal bars. We are being hit and beaten, even though we run as fast as we can. Where are we going?

From one gray area we are pushed into another, although this one is a little less gray. More of a dirty white.

 

There’s a strange smell. Metal. A very pertinent metallic smell. We all smell it.

The floor has the same kind of red stains as the white clothes the people wear. There are whole pools of the red stuff.

We are being divided. Some of us are led to the left. The others are led to the right.

 

Our group is lined up in a small corridor. The walls are just a bit taller than we are, there’s no immediate roof. We can’t get out, but the people can still beat us with sticks and other objects to force us forward.

 

One by one we are being plucked out of the corridor. A large hook is pierced through one of our legs, we’re being winched up by sturdy chains. We scream out in pain. We cry for help, but no one listens.

 

One of the people is holding a big knife. He brings it to my throat and …

With a swift motion he gashed my throat wide open.

My eyes close. I bleed out.

Life quickly leaves me.

 

My name is Joris, this is my short life full of pain and misery, and now I am on your plate.

Enjoy your meal.

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Epilogue

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In 2018 over 11,2 million pigs were slaughtered in Belgium. That’s just under the number of inhabitants of Belgium (11,37 million, in 2018).

11.2 million pigs in one year, that’s roughly 933 thousand per month. That’s over 215 thousand each week.

Still a number that’s intangible?

What about over 30 thousand each day? That’s over 1000 per hour.

That amounts up to twenty-one (21!!!) pigs being slaughtered per minute. In Belgium alone (in 2018).

All the sick animals that are unqualified for slaughter, the animals that die during transport or in the breeding stations and farms, the victims of stable and farm fires, or animals that are stillborn, are not counted.

 

To give you the complete package, I am ‘happy’ to add the other figures.

 

2018 saw the slaughter of 890 thousand cows. That’s an average of 101 cows per hour.

Over 305 million chickens were slaughtered in 2018 in Belgium. That’s almost 10 chickens per second. Can you even count to ten, per second?

For each chicken that’s alive, the equivalent of one male chick has to die. Male chicks are useless to the industry.  They are typically killed on the day they are born (blended up alive, drowned, gassed, …)

 

All the figures per month, week, day, hour, minute, second, are from the assumption that the slaughterhouses work 24/7. No slaughterhouse operates 24 hours per day, every day; but calculating the figures as if they do makes it easier to comprehend the large, official numbers.

All the figures of slaughtered animals for the year 2018 are the official numbers. Not included are the victims of fires, the animals that are rejected from being slaughtered, the stillborn, the diseased, bycatch from fishing, the hunted, … and in addition to cows, pigs and chickens, also horses, sheep, goats, rabbits, turkeys, fish, deer, boars and so many other animals are killed.

There are no official numbers for diseased animals, hunting, bycatch, ‘early’ deaths (during transport, fires, …).

(Game and fish deaths are only reported in their weight, not in the number of animals killed).

 

All official data comes from: 

https://statbel.fgov.be/nl/nieuws/meer-slachtingen-bij-varkens-2018-daling-bij-runderen. 

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