PETER DE SOUZA
peterdsouza@herald-goa.com
MAPUSA: In a world where tradition and gender roles often dictate destiny, Perpet Silveira and her daughter-in-law Juhi are shattering the mold, one pig at a time. With their skilled hands and sharp knives, Perpet and Juhi are Mapusa market’s most popular pork butchers – they efficiently slaughter the large animals, clean and carve up the meat for sale, earning the family a comfortable living.
However, for Perpet, butchery had nothing to do with taking over a traditionally male bastion, it was simply a means of survival.
Born as the fifth of eight siblings in a modest family from Agasaim, Perpet’s childhood was a hand-to-mouth struggle. “My father, Luis Miguel, was a toddy tapper, but did not earn enough to feed us all. So, he began cycling around to procure pigs, and would sell the meat. My mother Sylvia would convert any unsold meat into chourico, and she would travel by bus to Vasco, to sell her sausages,” recalls Perpet. Perpet was sent to a Marathi-medium school, but the language barrier proved too challenging, leading her to drop out early.
At 17, faced with the realities of poverty, Perpet married Sabino Silveira, a butcher from Tivim, in 1983. Like her father, Silveira had little to offer—no house of his own, just a cycle and a shared residence at his uncle’s home. Together, Perpet and her husband built their life on hard work, traversing the Bardez region riding ‘doubles’ on their cycle, catching pigs with the help of dogs, and selling pork at church squares. The couple’s days were long and arduous, as they ventured through Aldona, Calangute, and Mapusa, searching for pigs that roamed freely. “All the village dogs would come chasing after us, snapping at our heels,” Perpet recalls with laughter. “The pigs would run into the forests and shrubbery to hide, but we would hunt them down and truss four to five pigs up on the cycle. I don’t know how we managed,” she says.
Back then, pork was sold for just Rs 5 per kilo—today, it fetches Rs 380. “Pigs were abundant across Goa, nearly every Catholic household reared pigs - one could hardly throw a stone without hitting one. But times have changed, and now, we rely on pigs brought in from States like Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, and even Gujarat,” says Perpet. The traditional practice of negotiating with households and paying a “sinal” or advance to pig rearers has given way to purchasing truckloads of pigs at once, often with great difficulty. “We only slaughtered the animals three times a week, on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays,” she says.
The task of cleaning the slaughtered pigs was labour-intensive, initially done with palm leaves, which the couple scouted for all summer. If they did not have time to collect palm leaves, they would have to buy them. Later, they switched to boiling water for cleaning the hide. Despite these challenges, the couple persevered. With the help of a Good Samaritan, they built their own home and bought a Yezdi motorcycle, and eventually, a car.
Things changed eight years ago, when her husband Silveira became paralyzed, leaving Perpet to shoulder the burden of their livelihood. “I had been in the trade since my teen years, I had to steel myself and get the dirty work done,” she says. The tough woman wakes up at around 3 am to slaughter, clean, cut and prepare the meat for market. While her sons assist her with the business, they were too squeamish for the brutal task of slaughtering the thrashing animals. However, Perpet has now found an able and diligent partner in her daughter-in-law, Juhi, who does not shy away from the demanding job, even though she never touched pork growing up.
Perpet’s dedication has earned her a loyal customer base. Unlike before, they now slaughter pigs every day to meet the soaring demand, especially during the tourist season. The rising cost of pork has driven up the price of chorizo as well, making it a luxury for many Goans, who struggle with modest incomes. Nonetheless, the Silveiras cater to a diverse market, including migrants who value the nourishing, calorie-dense meat.
The once-thriving tradition of every Goan household rearing pigs is fading, as fewer people take up the trade. In 1983, a pig sold for Rs 150-200; today, the same pig fetches Rs 12,000-15,000. The physical toll of the work is evident in Perpet’s aching knees, a sign that the next generation may not continue the family’s traditional occupation. As Perpet herself reflects, traditional Goan livelihoods are slowly dying out,
leaving behind a
legacy of hard work and resilience.