My Year of Meats

by Ruth L. Ozeki

  John was recounting the successes of the BEEF-EX campaign, all due to his skillful handling of the American sponsors. This was a good sign, thought Akiko. He seemed to have forgotten her lack of enthusiasm for some of the programs.

  “They liked the Thayer Show very much,” he told her. “So it’s very fortunate I made that trip to Memphis to intervene, don’t you think? They would never have stood for that black family. And so far I’ve managed to keep the Lesbian Show from them. The Wyoming Show was a success....” He sighed and drank another shot of whiskey. “All you see is the finished programs,” he told her, suddenly morose. “You cannot possibly imagine what I have to go through to keep the sponsors happy.”

  She leaned forward expectantly, but he fell silent, elbows on the table, head in his hands. Perhaps she should ask him a question, Akiko thought.

  “What is wrong with them?” she ventured. “The sponsors are American. Don’t the Americans find their programs interesting?”

  John snorted. “BEEF-EX is just a bunch of cowboys pretending to be international traders. They don’t know the first thing about television. And neither does the New York staff, for that matter.”

  “Is the staff not competent? Don’t they do as you say?”

  John laughed out loud. “Do as I say? Hah. Not that stupid woman. She goes out of her way to do the opposite. She makes a point of it.” His voice was getting louder, and his face glowed. “She knows nothing of loyalty or obedience. All she thinks of is herself. Lesbians on Saturday morning! It’s disgusting. I mean, families are watching! No proper Japanese person would enjoy a program like that!”

  John slammed his palm on the table to emphasize his dissatisfaction. Akiko knew she should change the subject, but she couldn’t help herself. She was too curious. “Is this Takagi-san?”

  “Yes. Takagi ... Last thing I heard, she managed to get herself and her whole crew thrown into jail! I wish they’d kept her there. Thrown away the key.” He laughed and seemed very pleased with this, so Akiko laughed too.

  “She must be quite a woman! I should think you’d like a woman with so much spunk.”

  “Spunk, hah! She must be a lesbian too.” Then John looked at her, and his eyes narrowed. “Why did you say that, anyway? Are you jealous?”

  “Oh, no.” Akiko shook her head. “That’s not what I meant at all. I only meant—”

  “Well, you should be, you know. A proper wife would be very jealous, with all the traveling I do, to Austin, Texas, and places like that.” He watched her. “Do you know what they have in Austin, Texas?”

  Akiko looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. She had given herself a manicure this afternoon, but one of the nails had already started to chip. She shook her head.

  “They have this big club you can go to for lap dancing. Do you know what lap dancing is?” He leered at her and then drained his glass. He stared sullenly at the melting ice at the bottom. “Forget it.”

  “No, please tell me....”

  “Forget it,” he said. “You don’t care. You don’t care about sex. You are a cold, dead fish.”

  “No I’m not!” Akiko cried out. “Look at me! I’m not like that anymore.” She stood up so he could see her skirt and blouse. John watched her, his face expressionless. As an afterthought, she spread her fingers in front of her so he could see her manicured nails. Then he grinned.

  “Kimi wa kawaii, ne,” he grunted, patting her cushion on the floor with an amused, conciliatory nod. “You are cute. You look very nice.”

  Akiko knelt slowly back down. He was not acting at all interested. She wondered whether she should try doing something erotic. Maybe she should lift her skirt and show him the garter belt. He poured her a drink and pushed it across the table.

  “Here, don’t sulk. Drink up. I’m sorry I said that.”

  She caught hold of his hand and raised it to her mouth. Now what? She kissed his fingertips one by one and glanced up in what she hoped was a coy and provocative manner. He pulled his hand away, but she held fast, then she bit his little finger as hard as she could.

  “Ow!” He gasped in pain, then he snatched his hand away from her and belted her across the face, knocking her sprawling.

  “You fool,” he snarled. “How dare you ...”

  Akiko lay on her side, holding her head, her skirt pulled up to reveal the top of her garter. John stared at her leg, then leaned over and yanked the skirt up farther. He frowned. Akiko watched him through the tangle of her hair. Her nose had started to run from his blow. She sniffled and wiped it as discreetly as she could on the back of her hand, hoping it wasn’t blood. He crawled over and straddled her, rolling her onto her stomach and pulling down her panties. She heard him unzipping his fly and held her breath. She waited, her bottom in the air, for what seemed like a very long time, but nothing happened, so she twisted around a bit and peeked. He was kneeling above her, pulling violently at his limp penis. His eyes were closed and his face was deep red and sticky with sweat. He looked like a red-faced oni, she thought. Then he opened his eyes. She averted her face as quickly as she could, but it was too late. He’d seen her watching. Abruptly he stopped and put his penis away. He got slowly to his feet. He zipped up his fly and walked toward the genkan, then sat down heavily on the little step and put on his shoes.

  Akiko rolled over and sat up quickly. Her head was throbbing. She pulled down her skirt and followed John and knelt just behind him. She placed her palm on the center of his broad back. His white shirt was wet with sweat, and his back was hot and humped.

  “Anata ... ?” she said. “Dear ... ?”

  His back started to shake. She left her hand sitting there until he turned and put his arms around her waist and buried his face in the front of her blouse.

  “Daijobu ...” She patted him gently. “It’s all right.... It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.”

  She held him, wiped her nose surreptitiously on the top of his head, and let him cry. When he quieted down, she took his shoes off and helped him to his feet. She walked him back into the apartment and undressed him and tucked him into bed.

  “Next time,” said John as he drifted off to sleep. “I promise you, next time it will stand right up. It will be all right.”

  It was the bite, she thought, arms folded, watching him snore. She shouldn’t have bitten so hard. She didn’t mean to. Her jaws just sort of snapped shut.

  9.

  The Long Month

  SHŌNAGON

  Annoying Things

  A woman is angry with her lover about some trifle and refuses to continue lying next to him. After fidgeting about in bed, she decides to get up. The man gently tries to draw her back, but she is still cross. “Very well then,” he says, feeling that she has gone too far. “As you please.” Full of resentment, he buries himself under his bedclothes and settles down for the night. It is a cold night, and since the woman is wearing only an unlined robe, she soon begins to feel uncomfortable. Everyone else in the house is asleep, and besides, it would be most unseemly for her to get up alone and walk about. As the night wears on, she lies there on her side of the bed, feeling very annoyed that the quarrel did not take place earlier in the evening, when it would have been easy to leave. Then she begins to hear strange sounds in the back of the house and outside. Frightened, she gently moves over in bed towards her lover, tugging at the bedclothes, whereupon he annoys her further by pretending to be asleep. “Why not be stand-offish a little longer?” he asks her finally.

  JANE

  FAX

  TO: J. Takagi-Little

  FROM: J. Ueno

  DATE: September 1

  RE: Wyoming

  Dear Takagi-Little:

  It is good that you have corrected your way and are showing proper respect for beef as sovereign of meats. The Montana show is most original one and the Beef Fudge was delicious. Please continue to make such quality programs that BEEF-EX, the American sponsor of meat can feel pride. Sincerely,

  J. Ueno

  P.S. P
lease do not forget that you must sending me ALL ideas for next show so that I can make the right decision.

  Journal: September 1

  Ueno wants beef, and beef he shall have. Went to the library and found more books on the meat industry. The DES stuff was only the tip of the iceberg. Why didn’t I pursue this? I call myself a documentarian, but I’ve learned almost nothing about the industry that’s paid for these shows. Paid me for these shows.

  So here we go. I will probe its stinking heart and rub Ueno’s nose in its offal. No more fudge. I’m thinking slaughterhouses for the next show. A meat-packin’ mama in Chicago, perhaps? Or a feedlot family?

  FAX

  TO: Lara and Dyann

  FROM: Jane Takagi-Little

  DATE: September 2

  RE: Wives, Meat, etc.

  Dear Lara and Dyann:

  I hope this finds you all well. I write it with some trepidation.... Did you get the copy of My American Wife! that I sent you? I haven’t heard back from you and I’m worried that you didn’t like the show. I hope this isn’t the case, but if it is, I also hope you will let me know.

  I am writing to ask for some advice. I am researching my next My American Wife! This time I happen to be featuring a wife whose family is involved in the Livestock, specifically beef, industry. I started to research the topic and I’m finding it very disturbing.

  I remember that during the cooking scene you both talked a Little about being vegetarians by default because of the practices of factory farming meat. I wasn’t able to use it in the final program, but could you tell me more about this? I have read quite a bit, but I want to hear what you have to say.

  If this is presumptuous of me and you don’t have time, or you hated the show and don’t want to have anything else to do with me, I understand and apologize. I hope I will hear back from you.

  Sincerely,

  Jane Takagi-Little

  FAX

  TO: “John” Ueno

  FROM: Jane Takagi-Little

  DATE: 9/3/91

  RE: Blatszik & Dunn

  Dear Mr. “John” Ueno:

  As per your instructions, I am attaching a copy of our research thus far for the next My American Wife! program. As you will see, we have found two promising candidates, Mrs. Anna Blatszik, the wife of a meatpacker in Chicago, and Mrs. “Bunny” Dunn, the wife with a Colorado cattle ranch. I have asked each of the Ladies to tell us her best beef recipe to share with the Japanese audience.

  Sincerely,

  Jane Takagi-Little

  FAX

  September 3

  Takagi,

  You won’t return my calls so I have to resort to faxes. I don’t know whether you’ve gone and had the abortion already, but I have to see you regardless.

  I reacted very badly to your phone call from the Montana jail. I’m sorry. Collect calls from prisons make me nervous. But you did sort of railroad me, you know. Anyway, can we please talk? I need to know what’s going on.

  Please, call me.

  Sloan

  FAX

  September 4

  Dear Jane,

  Thanks for your fax. Don’t worry. The show is a hoot and the girls in particular loved it. They think it is hysterical that they are on TV, talking in Japanese. They took it to school for show-and-tell, and now they prance around acting like goddamn movie stars. Actually, they can’t decide between being stars or directors. Any suggestions?

  When we were trying to get pregnant, I started getting interested in fertility rates and I ended up writing a series of articles (which I will send you) for a Local ecology magazine, surveying recent studies of natural and synthetic hormones in the environment and their impact on human reproduction. Do you know that some studies show that sperm counts have dropped globally in the past fifty years by about fifty percent? This coincides with the start of factory farming and the heavy use of estrogens and other hormones in meat production. Granted there were a lot of other chemicals and pharmaceuticals just starting to saturate the environment around that time too, and the research is disputed, but my feeling is how could it not take its toll?

  Anyway, the meat thing in particular interested me, so I pursued it and started to dig up all sorts of nasty information about the industry, which I am sending to you. That’s when Lara and I became vegetarians. Basically, at first we didn’t believe that there was anything inherently wrong with eating meat. We simply decided to try not to eat contaminated foods when we were pregnant, or to feed them to our daughters. But then we started to feel that eating meat was, not wrong exactly, but not the best of all ethical choices, either, you know? So that’s where we stand.

  Best of Luck on your show.

  Fond regards,

  Dyann

  P.S. The girls want me to ask why there are black sections in the tape? Is that where the commercials go?

  Beef Junkies by Dyann Stone

  How do you know when your cows are in the mood for love?

  This is a serious question for cattle ranchers, who need to know which of their cows is in estrus and ready for artificial insemination. In the good old days, the rancher relied on a “teaser bull.” He was a bull of inferior stock, who, like any bull released into a herd of cows, promptly found and mounted those in heat. The difference was that the teaser bull had a paint marker around his neck, which left behind an identifying smear of paint on the cows’ rumps.

  But that was all he left behind. Naturally you do not want this bull’s lesser sperm weakening your gene pool, so it was important to keep him from actually fulfilling his biological imperative. A simple surgical alteration took care of this problem. A slit in the skin of the bull’s penis rerouted it out the side, so when the bull became aroused and mounted the cow, his skewed erection circled futilely around his target. Accordingly, these bulls were nicknamed “sidewinders.”

  The use of sidewinders, however, is old technology. The Upjohn Company now markets a new estrus-synchronizing compound called Lutalyse. Injected into all the cows in a herd, it forces them to come into heat simultaneously, within a matter of hours. Imagine! No more “Not tonight, honey, I’ve got a headache.” This is modern love—efficient, assembly-line artificial insemination and controlled calving. Upjohn’s slogan? “You Call the Shots.”

  Lutalyse is a prostaglandin, a chemical that functions similarly to a hormone, affecting almost everything that a body does, including respiration, digestion, nerve response, and reproduction. Prostaglandins work equally on both cows and women, and are being used in human medicine to stimulate menstruation as well as to abort fetuses in the second trimester of pregnancy.

  Lutalyse is only one of many “growth-enhancing” drugs, hormones, and other pharmaceuticals used in beef production. In America, 95 percent of cattle routinely receive estradiol, testosterone, progesterone, and anabolic steroids, not to mention the huge doses of antibiotics needed to control disease in feedlots, where cattle are crammed into pens, standing knee-deep in urine, feces, and mud, with no place to move.

  Trace residues of these drugs end up in the beef we eat, along with concentrated doses of herbicides used in cattle feed, and pesticides and insecticides needed to control the rampant fly populations in feedlots.

  These drugs, hormones, chemicals, and poisons are being blamed for a host of modern human health crises, including dropping sperm counts and fertility rates, cancers, and our rising resistance to antibiotics. In addition, the “diseases of affluence”—the heart attacks, strokes, and stomach cancers caused by too much meat in the diet—are killing Americans, Europeans, and increasingly the Japanese....

  Journal: September 4

  The creature inside craves meat. This is the month of manic growth, they tell me, when the manikin will double in size, from a puny three inches, crown to rump, to a whopping six. I take out my ruler and stare at it in disbelief. This much baby in my belly!

  Meanwhile, a massive rift has occurred between the seat of my so-called intelligence and my dumb, stunned body. With my mind,
I am studying meat. I am immersed in ac- . counts of pharmaceutical abuse. I recall Purcell Dawes, the DES, and the cute young doctor in Oklahoma with his warnings about antibiotics. I am reading chilling descriptions of the slaughterhouse, the caked filth, blood coursing down the cement kill floor, the death screams of a slaughtered lamb (exactly like the cry of a human baby) going on and on, long after the lamb’s throat has been cut. And yet ...

  And yet my body still craves the taste and texture of animal between my teeth. I read, I shudder, I gnaw a spare rib. How is this possible? I’ve had a long course in psychic numbing, but if this is the outcome of my documentary career, then I’m doubled to a psychotic extreme.

  Found a health food store that sells organic beef. I don’t want this child born with two penises or half a brain if I can help it.

  Sloan’s been calling. Now he’s faxed, asking to see me. What does he want from me?

  FAX

  TO: “J.” Ueno

  FROM: Jane Takagi-Little

  DATE: September 4

  RE: Sausages and Prairie Oysters

  Dear Mr. “J.” Ueno,

  I am delighted that you approve of our researches for My American Wife! thus far. I spoke to Mrs. Anna Blatszik, who told me that she often makes sausages with the “Leftovers” from the meatpacking plant and she would like to make these for our program. She said she has a dish that she likes to make when her in-laws come for dinner, called “El Quicko Sausage Surprise.” The name sounds fancy, she said, but it’s real simple to make. She cooks the wieners in a sauce made from a can of cherry pie filling and a cup of rose wine (or you can just substitute sugar and orange juice, she assured me, if you don’t have rose wine).