Marie and the Chicken

A week ago Marie asked if we like "hen"--as before, translate that as chicken. Yes, of course we like chicken. I should know by now what will happen when I give that answer.

Yesterday Marie showed up with a live chicken. I explained that we really don't butcher our own chickens. I said this with words and what I hoped were gestures that indicated killing the chicken.I asked if she understood. She smiled, nodded and said "Yes."

One of my students gave me some clothes to give to local children. I figured Marie fit the bill. Other than her school uniform I see her in pretty much the same dress. I know she has more than one dress. She has her Sunday-go-to-church dress and the other one. Usually I see her in the other one. Of course, she has her school uniform, but that's for school. I invited her in to pick out some clothes. I told her she could pick out three things. She was pretty excited and picked out a dress and a terry cloth warm-up suit--top and bottoms. I also told her that her two sisters--Joyce and Rebbecca--could come over and pick out clothes.

Marie left with her new clothes and left the chicken on the floor--alive. Now, I don't exactly want the chicken wandering around the house for the next few days. What to do?

I gave Bry'Chell my phone and sent her over to Carol's house to have Carol--who speaks Luganda--call Richard, our gardener and competent chicken butcher. I figured if the call came from my phone, he would know it's from me and answer. Carol relayed the message and Richard rode up on his bicycle about fifteen minutes later.

I had the water boiled and ready this time. Richard took care of business and in no time had that chicken gutted, plucked and I put it in the refrigerator.

I may need to learn how to butcher and clean a chicken. It wasn't exactly part of my plan for the year. Oh well, I'm learning lots of things.