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Tuesday, January 21, 2003
Yap: Goat writes
By Januar E. Yap
Meanwhile
I’M printing a letter from a goat who requested anonymity. This is his year anyway.
Dear Meanwhile:
I’ve been trying to rid my goatee with split ends when, suddenly, it occurred to me to write you a letter. As you said at the bottom, “For just about anything…” So this is it, and I would like to bring to your attention my species, and how we’ve been treated unfairly by society. For one thing, as a start, look at how your Philippine Military Academy calls the least performer in a batch of graduates—they call the poor guy a “class goat.” What does it imply? That we’re the lowest of animals? That we’re the most inefficient functionaries in the animal kingdom?
Goats, as we’re commonly called, are such efficiently cloven-hoofed, horned mammals. They say we’re closely related to the sheep, but then look at the sheep’s lousy horns, they’re poor copies of our much longer horns stretching all the way upwards, backwards, even outwards. The sheep do nothing but bleat all day. We’re usually introspective animals, we only speak when necessary or when there’s a sweet thing to say or as a way to keep the peace.
We’re agile animals. Look at how we leap from one stone to another with meticulous precision: our two front feet landing on a precise point before the full weight of our body follows. It’s the surefootedness human beings ought to learn from us.
We call the female in our lot with rather fond names, “doe” or “nanny goat.” We call our young “kids.” The men, yes, we call ourselves “bucks” or “billy goat.” So, you see, as far as giving names is concerned, we’re kind of cool on that aspect.
I noticed people making faces each time I get near them, complaining about my strong odor. But then you know what, we’re the perfumers’ best friend. The musk you wear came from the secret recipes in my digestive system. You don’t know that? It’s because perfumeries keep their formulas secret.
Artists and intellectuals have been strongly influenced by how we carry ourselves, look at how they sport their goatees with shining pride. Erap had been trying mighty hard to grow one, but he only managed a few isolated, funny-looking curls on his chin.
Before I’ll end up meandering, I’m closing my letter by saying thank you for the space you’ve given me. More power!
(January 21, 2003 issue)
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