I was asked to write about a positive experience, and formulate it as a story. Well, I put some effort in it, and here is the result:
1. Please give an
example of a positive experience either from work, the host family or from the
community you live in. Please formulate this as a story.
A
Story
One
afternoon Ruben, a sports volunteer from Norway, came home from work. It was
another quiet day at the office, where he hadn’t done anything specific, but
coming home to his host family always cheered him up, so did this day, indeed
it did.
He
came in the door with his bike under his arm, he was a strong Norwegian this
guy. He could easily lift two mielie - meal bags if he had to. But that’s not
what this story is about, it’s about a chicken, which is about to die!
When
Ruben walked in the door David, his host-dad, was smiling a little bit more
than normal and he said he’d been given a bird. Ruben didn’t understand what he
meant, and walking in to his room to put his bike there. When he got back out
in the living room David explained. David was doing some counselling for a
couple which was getting married, and this day, on the last day of counselling
they brought a chicken as a gift. “Cool!” Ruben said, “what are we going to do
with it?!” David explained that they would have to kill it, since they had no
room (or interest) to take care of it. Ruben got more excited and shouted: “Can
I kill it?!!” David said, sure, that wouldn’t be a problem. The chicken-killing
would happen sometime during the same evening.
Time
went on. Hours felt like days. The chicken was still sitting on the balcony. It
was a white 5-6 months old chicken. Nice and fat.
Then
the time had come. They had to kill it on the balcony, because a mozongo
killing a chicken in the back yard would draw too much attention. Another
mozongo came to watch the whole thing, Anja, who was Rubens neighbour; she was
helping him filming it.
Ruben
was given a bread knife first, and asked if that was the knife he would cut the
chickens throat with, no, he got another knife, a sharper one.
David
was holding the chickens body, and nervously Ruben grabbed the chickens head
with his left hand, holding the knife with his right. This was a natural
position for Ruben, since he was right handed, everyone knew Ruben was right
handed, he always held his book with his right hand, always. And by now, 2
months into his volunteer work, Ruben had read 6 books already, including Jo Nesbøs
“Panserhjerte”.
Back
to the story; Ruben was holding the chickens head and looked at David, he gave
him the “do it” nod, and Rubens hand was shaking a little bit before the knife
cut into the chickens throat. It went so quickly, Ruben didn’t stop until he
got about half way, and the blood was flowing out into the pan they had placed
below the chicken. The blood didn’t stop, and some of it dripped over Rubens
fingers, it was warm, dark-red and fresh. The blood kept coming and coming,
until Ruben was told to cut the head off. So he did. The chicken was dead.
Afterwards
they dipped the chicken in boiled water, and start plucking the feathers off,
and it was almost falling off before they even touched it. After five minutes
the chicken looked like a chicken in any supermarket, only with legs, so Ruben and
his host brother, Daniel, cut off the legs. Then Ruben got to cut the chicken
open and take the intestines out, they were still warm.
Then
Ruben said: “What are we going to slaughter next time David?” David looked at Ruben
with his big white smiley teeth, and said: “a goat”
Hopefully
the story will continue…
No comments:
Post a Comment