A Chicken Dinner

Warning: Isa and Caroline (my two young god-cousins, vegetarian and animal rights activists)- Don’t read this, you’ll never look at me the same. For Tabaski, I wanted to surpise my family with a big gift. I knew that they couldn’t afford a goat to slaughter, and for that matter, neither can I, but I thought I would treat them to a nice chicken dinner. Now in Mali, treating your family to a nice chicken dinner is a little different than calling up Mia’s or the Brewery and getting some nice grilled up chicken breasts. The family of course, must kill, pluck, gut, and roast the chicken themselves. I wasn’t really planning to be involved in all that. My only job was to get them the animal.
So I rode my bike the 7k to Dio on market day, Shaka running at my side. “One chicken won’t feed your family,” Shaka says, “You should buy two.” When we reached the town, we wandered the road until we found a vendor. Shaka approved- they were good and fat. I bought two, the total came to less than what would be $10. The vendor tied its feet together and I hung the chickens by their feet on my bicycle handle. This of course, was a first for me, but felt completely normal. I see people with live chickens hanging off their bikes all the time, with goats tied to the back of their motorcycles, people scattering chickens and frogs from their homes and bathrooms. Shaka decided to hang back with his older sister, so I got back on my bike to head home. Every so often, my tires would clip the wings of one of my chickens and they’d give a sickly yell. “Oh, sorry you guys.” I said. Yeah, you’re my dinner.
So about 1 or 2 k into the 7k trip, I popped a tire. Great. I spend the better part of the next hour walk/jogging my bike back by its handlebars, slushing around two wailing chikens, and being laughed at by women passing me with their wares in baskets on their heads and babies on their backs. Coming back to Dombila, I told my family that there was something wrong with my bike. I left it out of the complex. The tire is popped, I told them, and besides that there are some animals on it. Animals? My mother went to take a look. She seemed very concerned about the flat tire, but then I pointed out the two chickens hanging upside-down on the handle bar. Wait for it, wait for it. Ohhhhh. Chicken! Let’s go call dad to come slit their throats.