The Day a King Killed a Sheep for Me: Village Wisdom About Food
The Day a King Killed a Sheep for Me: Village Wisdom About Food
In a traditional existence model, everything in fashion, construction, home decor, and even utensils follows one sacred rule: we recycle what Mother Nature gives us. Clothes are crafted from fruit fibers, plant seeds, and leaves. Jewelry and garments come from bones, teeth, and animal skins, nothing is wasted, everything has value.
I remember visiting my grandfather in the village after spending a few months with my mom in the city. My grandpa was the village king, the Iron King. When he saw me, his joy was overwhelming. So great, in fact, that he ordered a sheep to be slaughtered in my honor.
Now, in our tradition, killing an animal for someone is a huge honor, a sacred act of celebration. I was just a child with nothing particularly special about me, except that I was his grandchild. And that alone was enough. I felt important. I felt seen. I felt like I was on top of the world.
I sat and watched the sheep being killed. Then, I helped my grandmother, the Queen, cut it into small pieces. She carefully separated the meat into portions, some of which were to be donated to members of the community. We walked from house to house, sharing the sheep that was gifted to me by the King.
When we returned to the palace, we cooked the remaining parts. That evening, we all sat together around a shared plate and ate as a family. Every part of the sheep was used. The meat was shared and cooked. The head, feet, stomach, and intestines became soup. The skin was turned into shoes. The bones were given to the dogs and they ate it all. Nothing went to waste.
My grandmother used to say it often:
“Food is precious. We don’t waste food.”
In a traditional existence model, people don’t work for money, they work for food. And without machines, everyone produces a limited amount. That’s why food holds deep value: it’s the result of real labor, love, and exchange.
But today? We have so much food, we don’t even value it. We let it spoil. We throw it away without a second thought.
There’s a deep beauty and quiet power in using things to their fullest potential, until absolutely nothing is left.
So, here’s my invitation to you:
Before throwing anything away, ask yourself, have I used this to its fullest?
You might be surprised at all the possibilities that open up when you start thinking this way.
