Yesterday, when I was busy pulling off the skin of the chicken that I was preparing for dinner, I suddenly thought about the times in college, when we (my Biology mates and I) had to do animal dissections. Perhaps looking at the raw chicken reminded me of the guinea pigs I dissected back then.
Those were fun times and we thought nothing about dissecting frogs, guinea pigs and insects. Well, at least most of us were gung-ho about it. My best friend at that time, J, burst into tears the first time we had to dissect a guinea pig. You know how cute these animals are, right? But we were taken aback by her outburst as what we had supplied to us were not live guinea pigs but the already chloroformed and fur-less ones (and very stiff ones too). J was a real trooper though, after that initial outburst, she was cool from that day onwards and would do whatever other dissections we had, without any emotions. I wonder how she managed to psyche herself up so quickly and easily. When she earned her Law degree later on in university, I connected the two (know what I mean?)!
I also remember that there was always this smell about the chloroformed animals, that lingers, hours after our lab sessions. And this always spoilt my appetite. I will never forget the day when I went home after a guinea pig dissection, and my mum served me pork porridge. Mum’s a great cook – her sliced pork porridge was always great. On that day, however, the freshly cooked, thin, soft, slices of pork in the porridge smelled and tasted (I imagined) just like the guinea pig I had left behind in school! Now, mum’s a fierce woman and I did not dare reject what she had cooked, although I felt nauseous with every piece of the pork I took in with the porridge. It was a real challenge keeping the porridge in.
Now, dissecting frogs and guinea pigs did not faze me. But COCKROACHES – now, I really, truly, hate cockroaches! To have to dissect one and to be in such close proximity with the sickening insect made me want to cry like J did.
First of all, the Biology teacher wanted us to bring our own cockroaches to the lab session. Me, catch cockroaches? Over my dead body (I wanted to tell her)! Some of my classmates and I ignored the teacher’s instructions and went for the session empty-handed, hoping that the carcasses would be supplied to us like those of the guinea pigs. But we were wrong! The teacher flew into a rage and sent us out of the lab! We couldn’t believe it! Being sent out of class at that age?
Anyway, that meant we missed the lab session, and had to somehow do the dissection by ourselves, outside of the lab, with no teacher supervision. And worse of all, we still had to catch the cockroaches ourselves. Luckily for us girls, the boys volunteered to help. So we got our cockroaches.
Now for the dissection. I decided that I would do it at home with my dissection kit. I was smart enough to decide to do it outside the main door – as the cockroach stank and I didn’t want to incur my mum’s wrath (she’s no fan of the insect either).
The reason for the dissection was to study the respiratory and alimentary systems of insects in general. The cockroach is a good candidate for such studies (which smart alec thought so?). I think I was also supposed to look at its mandibles (mouth parts).
It’s very difficult to dissect such a small body, when I simply refused to touch the ugly looking thing with my fingers. In the end (to cut a long story short), I mutilated it and never got to see anything. Why bother when everything’s detailed in the books, right? But I did get to see up close how &$@#! UGLY cockroaches really are! Try it – catch one and examine it in detail – the eyes, mouth, feelers, hairy legs, etc, etc…. so ugly, so hair- and goose-bump-raising. Eeeee, goose-bumps coming up as I write this!
And not only is it &$@#! UGLY, it’s also &$@#! SMELLY! Yes, it stinks big time! Especially when you cut it open and you are just centimetres from it. Urgh!! Yucks! It’s no wonder I mutilated the bugger and fouled up the whole dissection exercise!
It’s so strange how preparing a chicken for dinner can trigger all these memories. It’s nice though, to remember the good old days…
