In my previous life, I would have been repulsed by the thought of eating roadkill. And in all fairness, I still probably wouldn’t touch a deer or any other kind of wild game that had been hit by a car… but warthog is different.

Everyone knows that I love pork. Bacon, sausages, chops, ribs—I love it all. In fact my number one concern before moving to Senegal was how I was going to last 2 years without a regular supply of pork (Senegal is a Muslim country—and pork is a big no-no for Muslims). Luckily here is the southern part of Senegal, warthog (the pig’s gamier relative) is in abundant supply.

So when the Peace Corps car hit and killed a warthog out in the bush my reaction wasn’t, “eeww gross.” but instead, “do you think the blood has colagulated and where is a warthog’s jugular?”

As Peace Corps volunteers we are always looking for any excuse to have a party. And an entire warthog was just about as good a reason as any. So we gathered some people, drained the blood, and a couple of the guys set to work cutting up the hog and cleaning the intestines to make sausages. Yes, sausages.

So it may not be the classiest thing… but it was pretty damn good.