Thursday, January 29, 2009

Richard and the Chicken

Last week Joyce was over for her daily computer practice when Richard, the gardener, came to the door and asked me, through Joyce, if I liked "hens." I translated "hens" as chicken and after clarifying that he was referring to eating them, not having one as a pet. I said that sure, I liked chicken.

In the back of my mind this little alarm sounded. While I like to eat chicken I do not feel the personal need to slaughter and pluck said chicken. I think I could do it. I don't have a hatchet or a machete, which would make it pretty difficult, but I know the basic process. Without going into details, let's just say I've seen my mom take a duck from the walking and talking stage to the dinner stage.

Sure enough, on Saturday, Richard shows up with a chicken--still alive. He was holding it upside down by its feet. He offered to sell it to me for 2,000 Ush, about a dollar. I told him I'd give him 5,000 shillings if he would take it and returned it dressed--as in dead and plucked.

He took the money and I will undoubtedly see the chicken one of these days--minus feathers and head.

Bry'Chell is not used to having such a close relationship with her dinner. This is very different from buying a plastic wrapped package at Jewel. However, I suspect she will entertain some of her Chicago friends with stories about food and how we get it.

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