Friday, July 22, 2011

Most fun I’ve had in Bafia? That would be chasing a chicken around with other trainees and our favorite little adolescent bartender. 

It started the previous Saturday when Dan, Christian, and I were grabbing a midday brew before the party we were having for the trainees with July birthdays. We saw Simon, the adolescent bartender at the outdoor bar we frequent, doing laps around the house trying to catch this rooster. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was his ear-to-ear grin, but we decided to join in on the excursion. The three of us weren’t really sure if he was trying to catch the chicken to eat it or just for fun. This lead to some confusion when we finally did get it cornered. I had a plastic chair that I was willing to club it in the head with, but thought I should make sure I knew the objective before I started swinging like the Big Bambino. We never were able to corral it that Saturday, but laughed at the hilarity of a bunch of le blancs chasing this chicken around the bar.

Fast forward to Monday, maybe Tuesday. There were a lot more of us at the bar and Simon was back at it. We recruited a few more trainees and found out that he was trying to catch it to eat it. He also specifically wanted this rooster and not the other chickens promenading around. We managed to chase it until it flew into a tree. If you’re confused, so was I when I saw the chickens flying into the trees here. Only in Cameroon. I digress…Simon, being the all around hero that he is, climbed into the tree and chased it down. This lead to some more failed attempts by trainees at trapping Mr. Rooster. He lost us for a little while in the corn next to the bar. We flushed him out, Simon made a valiant attempt and dove for him, but he flew to the top of the latrine wall. Christian went to knock him into the latrine, but he flew on the roof. Most of us thought the outing stopped here. Not so fast, mes amis. 

Next thing we know, Simon is climbing the tree behind the bar and walking across the roof. He pointed him out to us, we chased the rooster aimlessly for a little while longer, and he headed back for the corn ”field”. We spread out and found him hiding under a log. We finally coordinated our efforts to try and flush him in a certain direction. He ran from the log, but he stopped soon under some more foliage. Next thing we know one of the neighborhood kids has also joined the hunt and goes blasting through the corn stalks after the rooster. This seems like a futile attempt, but next thing we know the freakin’ kid has him trapped in the small cooking shack used by Simon’s family and comes out holding the PO’d bird by the wings. I swear we had chased this thing around for like a half hour and this kid joins for three minutes and catches it. Apparently it wasn’t his first chicken chase.

Yesterday, at the request of multiple trainees, Simon waited until we were done with classes and sessions to kill the rooster. We took some before and after pics with the rooster and Simon. It’s a wee bit morbid, but we kind of need to desensitize ourselves to this kind of thing here. And it was surprisingly less gruesome and bloody than I had imagined. The chicken’s body shuddered a lot after the head was cut off, but Simon didn’t let it run around like the stories Dad has told me about. I felt bad for the little guy, but hey people gotta eat right? 

Today, a few of us decided we should buy a gift for one of the trainee’s dads for letting us have people over to hang out and listen to music. What better gift than a live chicken? With none of us knowing how or where to buy a live chicken, we were off. We headed to centre ville because John Jack wanted to buy an authentic Randy Moss Vikings jersey from his first go around in Minnesota. Yeah, only 10 bucks for an authentic jersey in Cameroon. We also saw a sewn red and blue Redskins jersey that looked like somebody had made a big booboo in the NFL Shop tailoring department. Probably why it ended up in Africa. After confusing the shop owner when he thought we asked him where we could buy pull over sweaters, we found out we could go to the big market to find a live chicken.

We walked for at least 25 minutes until we finally found the market. Matt got hugged along the way by a guy we had seen at the training house before, but had no clue who he actually was. I can’t even begin to describe to you what the market was like because there is nothing back home that I can compare it to. I will just say that it was chaos jammed into a few thousand square feet. I have no idea how close that estimation is by the way. We asked a guy selling popcorn where we could get some live chickens. He pointed us along the path we were going, but told us to watch out for thieves. It was kind of assumed by us we were targets since wherever we walked people stopped what they were doing to catch a glimpse of the whiteys at the market. We came to a fork in the road and again asked for directions to the live chickens. Some girls pointed us to the right and we trusted their word because really what was the other option? Luckily, we came across a teen pushing a long a cart with a box/crate/chicken holder thing on top. He told us it would be 3000 CEFA, which we found out was a good buy from a host brother and translated to 600 a person, so we were in. None of us really know what was about to follow in our first chicken transaction.

First, he pulled out two chickens by their feet and we told him we only wanted one, but we found out he was giving us the option of selecting our chicken from the two. We pretty much went with the one in the hand closest to us. Nobody really made any sudden moves to be the coveted chicken holder, but Matt took one for the team and grabbed it by the feet. This thing squawked and arched its back to try and get its head close enough to tear off some of Matt’s flesh. At least, that’s how I interpreted it. With chicken in hand, we left the market to grab some motos back to the center of town. I wish I had brought my camera to take pictures of all of us riding two motos and Matt riding with a chicken in his extended hand. Christian also took a turn for the second leg of the trip and it seemed to have a lot more spunk than during Matt’s ride. Now chickens or trainees were harmed in the making of this chronicle.

The dad was very happy to receive the cadeux (gift). I’m pretty he said that it was a very large and nice looking chicken, but I’ve been known to comprehend French incorrectly before. He seemed genuinely happy that we had given him the chicken gift and told us that we were a part of his family. And the Friday just kept getting better.

We decided to join our other trainees for a nightcap and to fill them in on our dangerous voyage to underground chicken market. When we arrived, Simon and his brother said they had something to show us. We thought they were about to off another chicken, but it was actually to show us the pot that was boiling filled with the rooster, potatoes, and veggies. They told us that they were going to give us some when we were done. We assumed that we would just walk over for a piece or two so the twenty or so other trainees wouldn’t be salty they didn’t get any of the captured cock. They seriously gave us a giant platter filled with food. There wasn’t enough chicken for everybody, but there was a ton of potatoes and it was cooked in this amazing seasoned sauce. It was the perfect amount of spice. They even gave us some plates and silverware for all of us to use. 

The hospitality of the Cameroonian people continues to amaze me every day. They are so welcoming to all of us. Yes, we helped in the chase, but they didn’t have to give us any of the food and especially not a platter full to try and feed all of us at the bar. It also was some of the best potatoes and chicken I’ve had in a long time. Could also be that you appreciate every good meal you have that much more here, but I can only decide on that after spending some more time in country. Speaking of which, I’ve survive the first 50 days of my Peace Corps experience. It may not seem like much to you, but I have to set goals in small increments here for my mental health, among other things. Hope all you lovely people are doing well back home and I can chat with a few of you online this weekend.

R.I.P The Bird Formerly Known As The Rooster

MMM