Kyra-Sofoula was born in a cold and frozen factory farm, like her many brothers and sisters, for the sole purpose of becoming another “machine” of mass meat and dairy production.

She was separated from her mum when she was a baby, so that she would not “steal” the milk that humans were supposed to consume, and despite her desperate cries, she never saw her again! Her tiny ear was violently pierced, they made her wear the “slaves’ ring”, like the farmer’s property she was, and they took her, weak and scared, away from her mum.

This is how she lived, alone and without affection, along with the other “orphan” little goats, until one day she became a mother herself. Every time, cruel people took her baby, and if it was a boy, they sent it to slaughter, because the nursing baby goat is tasty on a skewer. “What is a skewer?”, she wondered. Her tears and cries for her baby were always in vain. Why did those demons in human form torture her and her brothers and sisters? Why?

Years passed and kyra-Sofoula got tired, older and “heavier”. She no longer had any milk to give. One day, a truck arrived and took her and a few other old ladies. “Where are they taking us?” they wondered, scared and weak and helpless before their fate. “Boiled goat” screamed one of the demons, and kicked one of the other old ladies among them, as they piled them on the truck. “Damn goats”, he yelled.

As the truck moved away, kyra-Sofoula looked outside, at the fields, and hopelessly recalled her miserable, tortured, short life.

Suddenly, the truck stopped, and the driver angrily stepped down. He started fixing the engine, cursing under his breath. The goats patiently waited, under the sun, and every now and then, one of them would make a whimpering sound. And then a thought emerged in kyra-Sofoula’s mind: “what if I jump and run towards those fields to eat some fresh grass? To lie my old, tired body under the sun? How nice!” And she did it…! The other old ladies stared at her in awe, as she quietly drew away.

Kyra-Sofoula wandered alone for several days, until she reached some houses. Tired and thirsty, she approached humans again. She destroyed their flowers, she entered their gardens, she stained their lawn, her pure, angelic existence “stained” their dead, cemented, sterilized lives. They didn’t want her there, they pushed her away and kicked her once more. “They are demons, as well!” the fragile old lady thought.

But then a girl approached her, caressed her head affectionately, gave her food and water and spoke to her tenderly. “Don’t worry, girl, I will help you”. Caress? The old little goat had no idea what this meant. She had never known this kind of warmth. But she gladly accepted it. “She is not like the demons”, was kyra-Sofoula’s melancholic thought.

The girl did what she had promised. She saved her. She did everything she could, and she managed to save her.
She was put on a truck again, a different one. And this time, she was alone. The girl petted her. “Don’t worry, old lady, you will go to your permanent home now, you will be loved and cared for, and you will live happily for the rest of your life”, she reassured her, and she said goodbye with a warm hug.

A few hours later, kyra-Sofoula, warm and well-fed, enjoyed the autumn sun next to her hut, in the company of her new friend, Miss Efterpi, the sheep. As they were chatting, kyra-Sofoula, relieved, said: “Not all people are demons, after all. Perhaps there is hope…”. And she happily chewed some clover leaves.

Author: Anastasia Chaves De Lima

Translation: Ariadni Gergeraki