Hunhwa

I got blood on my Rainbows.

I’m a killer. A merciless blood hunter. A sinful, heartless murderer. Don’t read any farther if you become easily queasy.

Today, I killed a chicken.

It started out as a rumor. The Kavango kids were going to get their own chickens… but there are a couple of groups of us, plus we sometimes get mixed up with the Caprivians, and it was all speculation anyway. The chance that I’d get my hands on a chicken myself was unlikely. But rumor quickly turned into reality, and reality turned on its face and became fact. Not only were the Rukwangali students getting some chicken, but I was being called out as one of those chosen to commit the act.

I’m not one for saying no to a challenge.

They came in unassuming cardboard boxes. They didn’t make a fuss, just quietly awaited their fate in the brown shadows. First, a host country national showed us how it was done by grabbing up the first and seemingly effortlessly snubbing it. Then it was my fellow PCT Matt’s turn. Suddenly chicken squashing didn’t seem so effortless.

Apparently, in Kavango, it is considered inhumane to just chop a chicken’s head off and be done with it. No, to Okavangos, one should cut the artery and let it die before disconnecting the head.

Well, Matt got a dull knife. And he was not very efficient. Not only did it take him a while to tame the clucking chicken and position it, but he also made it look nearly impossible to get to the artery. And when he did, he couldn’t cut it. Needless to say, I became a little uneasy about being next.

But, I decided that if I was going to eat the chicken, and if I have spent all these years eating chicken, that I might as well make the effort to see how it gets to my plate. After all, someone has been doing it for me anyway all this time.

So, I stepped up to bat, grabbed the next chicken, steadied my feet on its wings and legs, and cut. And cut. And cut.

More proficient than Matt, I got to the artery fairly quickly, and I was told that I had cut it (as indicated by the great amount of blood spilling onto the sand and my feet). However, in my left hand, all of a sudden, the chicken’s head began to struggle, as if trying to swallow or cluck or maybe just get air. Now my hands were shaking, my stomach was curling, and my mind was shutting down. I snipped the artery immediately and put the bird out of its poor misery before continuing to snap off the rest of the head, place both in boiling water, defeathering, and cooking the animal.

Let’s just say it was an experience.

Other highlights of the day:
Eating a caterpillar. Ok, maybe a low of the day. It was disgusting, and I’m never doing that again. But when in Rome…
Starting the Namibian national anthem with a couple of people and having it turn into a boisterous group sing-a-long with over 60 people.
Being told multiple times that when I move to site, I’ll be living in the “real” Africa. AKA: hot, mosquitoes, hippos, hauling water from the river, etc.
Springboks vs Walabies live from South Africa at a bar with Namibian fans and a former Sharks player as a bartender.
Dancing to Katie Perry with Herero women.
Making fat cakes. Yes, they are as good as they sound.