Thou Shalt Not Murder

I have to confess.  I have broken this commandment today. Yes, that’s right.  I mercilessly murdered my first chicken.  While to many of you this may not be a big deal, for me it was quite the experience; let me explain.

Every Saturday morning, the parents of the house head to town to get supplies and groceries for the upcoming week, and to restock the school with food for the students for the week as well.  I explained earlier how a few Saturdays ago I had seen my meal being cleaned and sitting in the fridge staring at me for quite some time.  But this time, I saw the whole process.  As the truck pulled into the drive, I went out to help carry in groceries, as is expected.  This time, however, there was quite a racket coming from the back of the truck.  Yep, 15 chickens in 3 boxes were sitting in the truckbed.  I laughed, not really sure what we were going to do with fifteen chickens, and then ran to grab my camera as my 12 year old “brother” started grabbing out the chickens.

“What do you do with all these chickens?” I asked, sounding like a stupid American.  “Clean them.” Okay. Let’s do this.  So he grabbed one box, and took one chicken out.  He grabbed a knife with the other hand, and told me and his 7 year old sister to come along.  His sister loves to watch, and for me, I was ready to cover my eyes.  But I sat there and watched as he killed chicken #1, chicken #2, and chicken #3.  “Your turn!” he said with a big smile on his face.  I had videoed him killing the first one, just because I wanted something to hide behind so I didn’t have to watch it so close up… But then I had a feeling this was coming, so I tried to force myself to quickly become desensitized and figure out the best way to make it happen quickly. 

I went back and forth in my head, and told him I didn’t know how good I would be.  He knew I was a little afraid, so he pushed me even harder and handed me one.  When in South Africa, do as the South Africans do, right?  In an attempt to experience as much of this culture as I can, I bravely grabbed the chicken by the wings, and stood there for a picture.  Then the chicken pooped all over my feet… Yummy.  The kids enjoyed a good laugh J. 

So I walked over to the little slab of stone sitting on the ground.  Mind you, this stone is already covered with the blood of hundreds of chickens, as well as the fresh blood of the first 3.  And those first 3 sit in a bucket right next to me, some still moving and shaking.  Suck it up, Kelly, come on. It can’t be that much worse than filleting the salmon back home, can it? So I grab the feet, and step down on them with my right foot, and grab the wings and step down on them with my left foot in a nice warm pool of blood.  Then, I grab the neck of the chicken with my left hand, and hold the knife in my right.  Oh dear… let the sawing begin. 

Now, this wouldn’t be so bad if I could just chop down on the head and end it like that.  But no, the nice dull knife works best when you saw back and forth, back and forth.   So I start.  The minute the chicken lets out a squeal my hands go a little shaky and I turned my head away.  I was a little too low on the neck, so it took an extra long time to get through.  I’m embarrassed to admit this, but my girly side came out a little bit… I was almost done, and couldn’t wait to be finished, when the chicken started going nutso.  It was shaking and ready to run away, and it freaked me out.  I jumped back and let out a little squeal, only to see that the head was still dangling…  It didn’t get up and run, it just shook there for a while and then stopped.  SUCK IT UP I thought, so I grabbed it, and it started moving again, and I quickly finished the job, throwing the head into the bucket.  I held the body for a picture after it stopped moving, and tried to stop my hands from shaking…  But I did it! 

Then I went to the outdoor cement sink, the same sink that I wash my clothes in, might I add, and washed off the chicken poop and the blood that had splattered all up my legs. I was given the option of killing the fifth one, but I politely declined.  Yes, this whole ordeal is on video, so if you ask when I get home, I may show it to you, as long as you promise not to laugh too hard.

But then we sat for 2 ½ hours plucking off all the feathers from the bodies and heads, peeling the tough skin off of the feet, and getting them ready for the fridge.  Again, we rinsed all the blood and feathers in the laundry sink, and then put them in the kitchen sink.  I was told to be careful with the guts that were coming out, because we will cook those up and eat those too, so be careful not to let them fall out.  Yum.

Tonight is pizza night, so I’m happy to say I am avoiding chicken until tomorrow.  It will be just fine eating it, but it will be nice to put a day between this killing event and the chicken feast.