Malaria Chicken

Junior’s back and the chicken is still here. Baraka’s father was sick for about three weeks, which gave Junior’s scary chicken enough time to come up with a plan to cheat death and Sunday dinner- she started laying eggs.

Ironically, while the local government’s campaign urging women to give birth in the health centers verses at home has largely fallen on deaf human ears the message has been heard loud and clear by Ngai’s poultry population.

Junior’s chicken wakes up in the morning, walks out of the bathroom, across the compound and over to the maternity ward where she lays her eggs.

Adding to the irony, while delivering in the health center is a safer option for human mothers and babies, it’s proved to be more dangerous to the lives of chickens and chicks.

After a few days, the bored and anemic pregnant mother started making omelets and Junior is guessing that it will only be a matter of time before they help themselves to a big pot of scary chicken stew.

While the pregnant mother’s decision to steal their midwife’s eggs is questionable at best I’m happy that this new development has put malaria chicken back on the menu and hopefully out of the bathroom once and for all.

PoPo and Aki

The other day I woke up, walked into the kitchen, and discovered that I had rats. My beloved tomatoes sat half eaten on the rack. Within twelve hours of having rats I had a cat. Another 24 went by and I had two cats.

A few weeks ago I stopped at one of our local ‘restaurants’ for a quick plate of beans and cassava. While I was waiting, four tiny kittens wandered into the room. I started petting them and the owner of the restaurant asked me if I wanted one. No. I’ve never really liked cats. After having an epic allergic reaction as a child I’ve steered pretty clear of them for most of my life (with a few exceptions of course). As a result they kind of scare me. They scratch and bite, and their actions feel sporadic and unpredictable. I’ve even been quoted saying that I’d only want one if I either lived in a REALLY big house or had a REALLY small cat. That way I’d only have to see it, from a far, once every few days.

That being said, I found myself thinking of one of the little cats quite often. Three of the cats were mostly black with white faces but one had very unusual markings- white with a patchy back of marbleized orange and brown. It was beautiful. I tried to justify the idea in my head. What better time to get a cat: African cats are usually more work animals than pets so they don’t require much attention, I can leave the window open and it can come and go as it pleases, and it’s only a two year commitment- I can find someone to take it when I leave Uganda. I even thought of a hypothetical name for the kitten. Alas, the rats were the tipping point that pushed me into experimenting with becoming a cat owner.

When I got home Tamale asked me what I had named the cat. I told her that I had named it Popo. “Popo!” She yelled. “Where’s Aki!” I was totally confused. As far as I knew Popo was the Lango word for papaya. What was Aki? It turns out that Popo and Aki are two of Nigeria’s most popular movie stars. According to my Google search they are either children or dwarfs who have a series of films where they get into all sorts of shenanigans. Where’s Aki? Good question!

After a rather rough night of sleeping on the couch with Popo who had been crying out of loneliness Fidelis, my neighbor and fellow cat hater, asked me if there were any more available. She was having rat issues at her family home in the village. I told her I’d take care of it. I went back to the restaurant that day and asked if I could take a second kitten- the mellow one with the really green eyes- Aki. No worries, as long as you can pay. The average cost of a kitten in my village is one chicken. Considering I’m currently out of chickens they were willing to take 3,000 shillings or about $1.20. “Enjoy your cats,” on my way out. “Two girls! That’s great!” Wait, yesterday you told me they were boys…

Our walls are like paper so Fidelis was all too aware of Popo’s crying the night before. It wasn’t difficult to convince her to let Aki stay with me. Taking on the responsibility of feeding him/her and looking after him/her was also an easy sell. It’s been a few days and I’ve realized that I’m going to have to find Fidelis another cat. Currently curled up together in a sleeping ball of fur, I don’t see how I could separate them. I also have to admit, despite my prejudice against cats, I’m already feeling quite attached to these little guys/girls (as long as they don’t 1- poop in the house 2- tear up my clothes/shoes 3- make me sneeze excessively).

So the cat owner experiment continues. We are currently working on socialization of semi-wild kittens and owner’s ability to focus on tasks other than watching cats play for hours on end. We have successfully proven that kittens can go from being malnourished to obese, with the appearance of having swallowed tennis balls, within a matter of days. I’ll be sure to keep you posted as things progress.

Hunting

The buses are always overcrowded in general but, it being Easter weekend, it was even more extreme. As per usual I had the misfortune of sharing my bench seat with a slightly obese woman and the tallest man in the world. About a third of what I had rightfully paid for remained for me- one butt cheek’s worth of space. What’s the last thing you need on a bus that’s already overcrowded? That would be someone cramming boxes of baby chicks through the windows. About 20 chirping boxes came in that way. Slightly annoyed but overall extremely accommodating passengers managed to help stow the chicks away. They were placed up in the luggage racks, under the seats and in the aisles- pretty much everywhere.

We were barely out of the bus park when the first managed to escape. The fluffy yellow chick hopped down the aisle, scratching the ground, looking for bugs. The five back rows watched, not moving. Naturally, it wasn’t one of the Ugandan passengers (who most likely grew up with food animals at home) to catch the little bird but the only foreigner on the bus who happens to be a bit scared of chickens. A second popped out shortly after, then a third. Things were starting to get crazy! It’s not easy catching chicks on a moving bus. That’s when I realized what was happening. Right then, Easter weekend 2011, I was being invited by circumstance to partake in the first ever Adult Easter Egg Hunt!

The premise of the game is the same- find the egg/chick and place it in your basket/overloaded chick box. The challenge is stepped up by the fact that, in the adult version, the ‘treasure’ is a moving target and there is a good chance that it will either peck you or poop in your hand. The most notable difference is that, unlike the traditional Easter Egg Hunt for kids which is based around rewarding the participant, the Adult Hunt is punishment driven. If a participant fails to collect all of the chicks they run the risk of stepping on one and thus becoming covered in bird guts and suffering emotional trauma from the experience.

Having collected about a dozen chicks throughout the trip I have declared myself the winner- I had about 12 more than all of my competitors. While the challenge was fun and certainly kept me entertained I was relieved when the chicks were either lulled to sleep by the jerky motions of the bus or ran out of air in their cardboard boxes and stopped jumping out. One of the greatest things about traveling is experiencing new customs from different parts of the world. I’ll be happy host an Adult Easter Egg Hunt at home to share a piece of my Uganda experience with all of you.

Chicken

Take One

I’ve been up for about an hour. I set my alarm clock for an unusually early time so that I can get to a meeting in Gulu but it’s raining. I’m sitting on my back veranda, washing dishes, waiting. I glance into the house, a chicken walks out of my bedroom. Sitting, perplexed, visibly confused. I’ve been here the whole time, how did I not notice it walk in? Spotting the chicken coming out of the house my neighbor comes over. “So that’s where that chicken’s been! We were looking for it all night, it must have slept with you!” Evidence. An unfortunately large pile of poop beneath my bed- directly under where I lay my head. Fist shake to the sky!

Take Two

Early morning. Outside my window the sky is streaked with the pink of sunrise. Clanking of pots. That’s strange, my neighbors get up early to make a fire for cooking breakfast but the suns not even up yet. Big crash. Shit. That’s coming from my house. By the light of my cell phone flashlight I creep into the kitchen, panicky. Big Noise! I scream! Chicken! Again! Damn Chicken! I open the door, it runs out. I start to laugh, how ridiculous. I walk into the sitting room. Fear, laughter, now anger. The chicken has shit all over the house. I’m thankful that today is school visitation day- chicken dinner.

Eliza 2

It was very excited when Junior came home yesterday after being away for about 3 and a half weeks (a long time to be the only adult living with 3 Ugandan children who don't speak English). She brought a chicken whose feathers were the same exact color as my hair- naturally we named her Eliza 2. I went to a meeting and when I got back to the house Junior told me that she was very sorry but she had killed Eliza 2. It's a strange feeling to be eating your namesake but she was delicious!