Gareth Manning, Sunday Gleaner Writer

JERICHO, not the ancient Middle Eastern town whose walls the Israelites of old tore down and plundered, is a little community in the cool Bull Head Mountains of Clarendon. Here, the hillsides are bleeding with red Christmas sorrel at this time of the year and blazing bright with the golden blossoms of gungo peas ready for picking.

But it's really one thing that has brought The Sunday Gleaner team here, or rather two. They are Rambo and Billy - two little rams so named by this reporter. Only rams are eaten in Jericho; no she goats. And the reason is simple, they just don't taste the same as rams. It is the smell that really counts, that rank smell that only ram goats have, which sometimes makes the mouth water long before the goat is even killed.

That smell intensified as we followed Stalky, the community butcher and cook, up the hill into the yard where the goats would meet their demise. As he approached the mango tree on which Rambo and Billy were tied, they seemed to sense there would no more opportunities to see the New Year, although they were not yet a year old.

Billy goes first

Billy, the smaller of the two, bleated as he appeared to notice an all-too-familiar tool in Stalky's right hand. He and an accomplice grabbed Billy.

The speed with which Stalky moved as he grabbed Billy belied the reason for his nickname. His aunt had actually given him the name as a baby because he took a little longer to walk than other children. However, he did not hesitate now. Stalky quickly took the rope from around Billy's neck and used it to hang him by his hind legs from a limb on the mango tree.

"Maaaaaay!" Billy bleated for help. But a scared Rambo could only watch silently, oddly trying to hide his body behind the tree, as if he knew his time would come soon.

Then without pause, Stalky's knife slid across Billy's throat. Billy attempted to make a final bleat, but only a sound similar to air escaping a broken valve or punctured tyre was heard. The cold Christmas breeze suddenly grew strong.

"It look like Jah a talk to yuh Stalky," a young lady jokingly commented as Stalky carried out what was possibly his 1,000th kill. Though only 31 years old, he has been doing this for many years, after being taught the trade from an older man in the community.

"A nuff, nuff years me a do this man," Stalky says as the gushing blood from Billy's throat stains his toes. A reporter who claimed to have made many similar kills in his time walked away.

Stalky cut the tendons in Billy's legs after he had finished bleeding him and then slid his butcher's knife down his stomach to remove the skin from the meat. The testicles fell out. A reporter asks curiously if it is also eaten.

Tasty treat

"Yeah man," replies Stalky. "A true nuh pickney nuh deh ya right now, 'cause you would a see dem a run come fi it," he adds. The testicles are often roasted and then eaten.

In no time at all only Billy's hind legs were left hanging from the limb of the mango tree. His 15 pounds of meat was put into a big pot to be seasoned later to make some of the tastiest Jamaican mannish water ever had for the community's final dance before Christmas.

"Come mek we deal with dis one here now," Stalky says to his accomplice. They grab Rambo's 20-pound goat frame from behind the mango tree. Soon he too will be transformed into a source of delight of palates during the Yuletide season.

gareth.manning@gleanerjm.com