Recipes from the Great Beyond: Part 1

Saturday night, I was all set to kill my first chicken. I had my phone on me, so when my host mom called me on her way back from the market, I could head home. I also had some liquid courage in the form of one of the huge beers here. I was set, but she never called.

I got home promptly at 7 and saw the chicken in the wash basin in the kitchen, quietly clucking to itself. Apparently, Stephanie didn't want to bother me, so I had the beer for nothing!

The next morning I got up bright and ugly to just get it done. I was mostly mentally prepared, but then my cousin said I had to go get a sharp knife. (I had heard from other chicken killers that you have to saw the neck forever to kill the chicken and that was the worst part ever).

I went into my bags looking for my knives. I was told to look for one that was really sharp (or "tranchant," which literally means slicing), so I got the one that I know is really sharp and will never forget exactly how good it is at cutting things (for further information look at The Most Dangerous Game).

I walked around the house and out the door. The sunlight glinted demonically off the razor sharp edge. My host uncle grabbed the chicken out of the bucket. He started to demonstrate how to hold down the chicken - one foot on its wings, the other on its feet. The chicken was clucking sadly and molting constantly.

I took a deep breath and noticed the lump in my throat, as I bent down to kill the chicken, I couldn't help thinking about how much damage that yellow knife can do and how much pain it can cause.

I couldn't help it. I chickened out. (Pardon the pun)

My host uncle cut the chicken's head off and after it finished bleeding out, we put it in hot water, so I could pluck it and take the skin off the feet. Afterwards, I cut the claws off the feet and helped to butcher it. You have to be careful, when you open it up, because if you puncture the intestines, you literally get poop everywhere and if you puncture the stomach, the meat gets very bitter.

Cultural note: The gizzard must always be prepared and served with the chicken or your husband will reject the meal and demand, "What the poop?!"* Also, ladies are not allowed to eat the gizzard (not sure why).

Then you take the chicken and put it on the flames to burn off the "hairs." We prepared the chicken with tomatoes, peppers, onions and of course, Maggi cubes and palm oil. Then the chicken cooked on the stove for a few hours and became the delicious meal we enjoyed for lunch, dinner and breakfast.

*Cameroonian men would not actually say, "What the poop?!" but they might come up with another colorful oath.