Odes on Tender Specie(s) Vol I: Bright Coin · Track 49 · middle
The Pig Festival
The Enga people of Papua New Guinea. The Te cycles — pigs given, debts owed, decade-long obligations of pork. A currency you can hear, smell, and roast. Orikusis narrating the most baroque livestock economy on earth.
Lyrics
[Intro] In the highlands of Enga, the books aren't kept in ink. The ledger breathes. It has a name. The accounts run for ten years, sometimes fifteen. [Verse 1] A woman coaxes it from the mud. Calls it by name, like a child. She knows its mother, and its mother's mother. She knows the debt this piglet was born to settle. For seven years, she will feed it, tend to its sores, mourn its small anxieties. This is not a pet. This is capital. This is a future alliance, sleeping in the shade. [Chorus] This is the Te. The great exchange. This squealing pig, a bride price. This fat sow, a peace treaty. This boar with the fine tusks, an apology for a murder committed by a grandfather. The argument is not in words. The argument is made of blood and fat and bone. [Verse 2] The big-man walks the path, his decorated staff tapping the earth. He doesn't count coins. He counts snouts. He speaks to the pigs, reminds them of their purpose. Recites their lineage like a royal decree. "You," he says to a black-and-white one, "will settle the score with the Talyul clan." "And you," to another, "will secure my son's wife." The social mathematics would break a lesser mind. [Chorus] This is the Te. The great exchange. This squealing pig, a bride price. This fat sow, a peace treaty. This boar with the fine tusks, an apology for a murder committed by a grandfather. The argument is not in words. The argument is made of blood and fat and bone. [Bridge] And then the festival. The ceremonial ground, alive with the smell of fear and woodsmoke. Thousands of pigs, a currency that can stampede. Debts are called. Staves are raised. Pigs are pulled from one rope to another. And the fires are lit. The great slaughter. The mounds of roasted pork, distributed with surgical precision. A currency you can hear, and smell, and finally, consume. [Outro] The smoke clears from the valley. The ground is stained dark. The books are balanced for a day. And in a hut, a woman gives a name to a new piglet. The first entry on a fresh page. The ledger breathes. It begins again.