Killing A Chicken For My Mother-in-Law

I just had to do it. I always say I can approach any situation armed with nothing but my books and a prayer. Well, here in rural Central Province in Kenya all I had for books was my Nokia already on Google searching for "How To Kill A Chicken" Result 1: catch it, dunk it in hot water until its dead....Umm, I don't think so...
Back to Google, "How To Kill A Chicken Humanely" Result 1: Slip it under your arm, snap it's neck with one fluid motion, wait for it to stop flapping its wings, drain bood, pluck its feathers"

He looked at the fear on my face and laughed, "You don't have to do this you know, I'll do it and we'll just tell her it was you."

"No, she told me to do it precisely because she thought I couldn't do it. I don't want your mom to think I'm a city girl who can't take care of you! Plus I dont think lying to your mom is the way I'd like to start off our relationship!"


O.k, I can do this, God help me do this.

Most "Meet The Parents" trips don't end up with this. I always heard about difficult mother-in-laws but I always thought that I would be the exception, like, because of how awesome my mom is to my sister-in-law fate or karma or whatever would lead me to having a great mother-in-law. Here I am, in love with the most kind, sweet, generous and insanely attractive guy I know and if you were in my shoes you'd believe that his mom would be just the same...I mean she raised him right? But the trip didn't get off to such a good start.

We were late, and little did I know that mommy's amazing son had never been late going home, ever. He always got there in the morning so he'd be able to say hi to all his relatives. This time we didn't have time for that, mostly because he was late picking me up from my house, but, in his mom's mind, what's changed? Me! Strike 1!
Then the converstaion starts going, she speaks in our mother tongue (one of our local dialects, Kikuyu) Guess who isn't that fluent in Kikuyu? Me! In her mind, I'm a city girl abandoning her roots, what will the grandchildren speak? Stike 2!
Finally, it's time for lunch. "Ah! I can cook lunch in my sleep!" Shock on me, and shame on my fiance for not telling me, all her mom has is a charcoal jiko!



Do you know how hard it is to light a charcoal jiko? 30 minutes later covered in soot and still struggling to light the stupid thing, she says, she'll do it and I should go kill the chicken, because chicken is her darling son's favorite meal. That's Strike 3, but I have a 2nd chance which leads me here. Facing the chicken.

Have I mentioned I have a phobia of animals, anything warm and breathing that's not human sends me into crippling fear. Contrary to future mother dearests beliefs though, I do know that my fiance's favorite meal is chicken. I've friggin' made every chicken meal on the planet! That's probably how I got engaged in the first place! But I buy the chicken, like most people who are neither cowards nor lazy at the butcher! Still I have to do this.

I feel like I have to do this, like the fate of my relationship/future marriage relies on this task. Like my fiance will stop loving me if I don't kill this bird. Like I'll die old and alone except for a pile of work papers that I clung to with my withering hands because work was all I had left. Plus to be honest, as much as he left me unprepared and made me look like a total ditz in front of his mom, I love this guy with all my heart, and I know how important his family is to him...so if it means killing a bird, I will gladly do it, he'd do the same for me in a heartbeat.


I gently grabbed the chicken...my gentility however lasted all of 5 seconds...then I started screaming...the chicken started squawking...i dropped it and started running and the devilish thing started running after me!!! Then...




Then I woke up! Hahaha, you can't believe it was a dream? I can't believe it was a dream! And I'm the one who dreamt it!
:-) :-) :-) Please head over to my blog, your welcome any time! God Bless! :-) :-) :-)

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