I killed a bird and I liked it.

The title was very impulsive. I think I crave excuses to reference American pop culture. Katy Perry, anyone? What's happening to me...

January 5th, 2014

Disclaimer: If gory details about the murder of an innocent bird might upset you, skip the paragraph starting with “1.”…

Happy New Year!!  Bonne Année!!!

I’ll admit it. Spending Christmas and New Year’s in a foreign country, away from everyone you love, is pretty tough.

But, like with most things in the Peace Corps, you learn to make do. (Which isn’t so bad when you receive four Christmas packages… complete with a pre-lit tree and monogrammed stockings – my mother, obviously.)

I spent Christmas back up in Dapaong with a group of volunteers. One of the Togolese Peace Corps employees has a house up there and throws a party for volunteers Christmas Day. Since I couldn’t be home, it was great to be there – surrounded by other English speaking individuals missing their families, cold weather, and dessert. We had a white elephant gift exchange and a Christmas talent show. I’m happy to say I’ve re-mastered the shimmy after Hillary, Kelsey, and mine’s rendition of “Santa Baby”. Lynn Bates, you’d be proud.

I returned back to village on the 29^th. I had heard some things from older volunteers regarding New Year’s Day in village that encouraged me to spend the occasion with my Togolese friends rather than other Americans.

These things one heard included:

“Be sure to kill a bunch of chickens and give away the meat.”

“You’re going to need three outfits.”

“It’s like Halloween in Africa. The kids dress up and come around for candy.”

“Buy a bottle of liquor. People are going to come your house for shots.”

Now that your imagination is running away with you, let me tell you what really happens in village for New Year’s Day.

All. Of the. Above.

1. Buying a bunch of chickens.

December 30th, I talked to my favorite family about buying some chickens. I asked if I paid for one, would they help me kill it? I’ve wanted to try since being here, but kinda needed the reason to do it.

They said I should buy a pintarde (guinea fowl) because they were in season. They would look for one to buy and if I wanted to, I could kill it.

New Year’s Eve. 7:30am.  Guinea fowl located.

Ayim called me up and said if I had the cash, he’d reserve it for us. Later that afternoon, he showed up at my house and took me to claim my prize.

He said it was necessary to kill it that night so that after church the next day we only had to make rice before we could eat. I’d originally planned on doing it right after church so that I had time to emotionally prepare myself, say a little prayer for its soul, all that jazz, but the time was now.

The man handed me my victim by the feet. Fun fact: if you hold guinea fowl or chickens upside down by their legs, they become paralyzed. Who knew? So, not only was mine heading to his untimely death, he also suffered from temporary paralysis during his final moments on this earth.

We took the bird back to Judith and Ayim’s. As we walked, I could feel its pulse and body heat through my hand securing the legs. It was very alive. And I could imagine its pulse fading and its body temperature still warm as we would prepare to cook it.

Their son Roman was in charge of helping me take its life. He dug a little hole in the ground for the blood to spill into. He handed me a knife, secured the bird’s wings, and bent back its head to clearly expose the neck. He told me to cut.

I’ve shot birds before. Well, I’ve tried to shoot birds before. With the intention of killing them. But sawing through that poor bird’s neck with a dull knife was slow and difficult. A third of the way through, they told me to stop and let it bleed out. The poor guy flopped around the yard getting weaker and weaker. I tell myself it was just the nerves. It helps me sleep better at night to think that.

After the flopping ceased, we knew it was over. I picked it up by the feet and threw it into a big basin. Judith poured boiling water over it and we watched the feathers melt off its skin. Then we went in and finished pulling them out ourselves. Roman taught me how to do the first main dissections. Legs. 

Wings. Breasts. And he did the rest.

Judith would finish cooking it that night and we’d eat it tomorrow as planned.

(Obviously this is overdramatic. I just wanted to write about the experience in a way that read as traumatic as I felt. Judith’s family got a huge kick out of it. Killing birds is something they do weekly. Goats and sheep are slaughtered by hand pretty often here as well. Don’t worry. Not up for all that. Really killing the bird wasn’t so bad. I’m glad I had the experience, but it’s not something I’ll really sign up for again.. unless I have a sharper knife or an axe. I could tolerate a quick death. Seems more humane.)

2. Appropriate attire.

I bought a bulk of pagne a month or so ago. I didn’t need all of it, but Judith got me a good price in the marche. So, I promised her whatever fabric I didn’t use she could take to have a dress made for herself. 

Both of our dresses were done in time for New Year’s. I asked her if she wanted to wear them to church on New Year’s so that we would match. She said she’d had another outfit made for church already. She also had an outfit for walking around the village after church. But, she’d be willing to match with me for her third outfit of the day when she had people at her house. She informed me that it’s necessary to have at least two outfits for the day. If I wanted to match her, it’d be better to not wear mine to church as well. If I did, I’d have to change after church and then the timing would be off.

From my past experience, I’ve noted that most people here have 3 or 4 formal outfits that they wear over and over and over. I never see people in new things. I’m pretty confident I can tell you every item in Judith’s closet.

Now I realize it’s probably because they’re all concerned with spending every other day of the year getting their money’s worth out of those three our four New Year’s outfits…

3. Kids and candy.

Okay. So it’s not Halloween. But after church, in their Sunday best, mothers take their kids around the village to stop at houses for candy and snacks.

Thanks mom and Omar for the candy you sent. Now I know how Santa feels. I walked around village on Bonne Annee with a bag of Lifesavers, candy canes, and Hershey kisses.

4. Bar crawl.

While the kids get candy, the adults get liquor. Or tchouk. Or both.

After church, people went home to change. I stuck with Judith and she said we had to walk around to visit some people before we went to her house to eat my bird.

Each house we visited came with alcohol. You could only take a little if you chose, but you had to take something. It was impolite not too.

Each house also usually had food.

Four hours and four houses in, I was full of 3 tiny shots of whiskey, 4 calabashes of tchouk, a beer, a glass of wine and some couscous. Thank goodness for that couscous…

I was dreading the walk to anywhere else. I was convinced I was going to vomit or pass out. I told Judith that if we were going to continue, I needed a nap. Now.

She had her sister walk me home. Luckily, I only couldn’t refuse one more calabash.

I slept for 2 hours and then prepared myself for round 2. Good news is most of the Kabiyes in my village continued drinking through their daily repose (rest) from 12-3. So, when I was ready to get back in the game around 4, most of the partying had died down. I was able to continue the evening with a trip to Mathilde’s and a final calabash with dinner at Judith’s.

The few people’s houses I missed just told me to come by tomorrow.

Apparently the celebration lasts for a few days…

If the thought of  New Year’s Eve ever crossed your mind, I figured I should tell you I was asleep by 10pm..

But all the partying people do the night before in the U.S. is done over three days here in Togo.

It wasn’t what I’m used to, but it was a great way to bring in 2014.

Now that it’s a few days later, I’m having a minor melt down about spending this ENTIRE YEAR IN TOGO. When it turns 2015, I will still be here.

In 12 months, I WILL STILL BE HERE.

It’s really making me evaluate what I want out of this next year of service.

2012 and 2013 brought a lot of great changes in my life. Some of my chapters ending and some just beginning.

In fact, now that I think about it, almost every year of my life that I can remember has included some form of transition.

Always ending a school year. Starting a school year. Driver’s license. 21. College graduation. New job. Hong Kong. Bike Trip. 

This entire year gets lost in one big chapter – Peace Corps Togo: Summer 2013-Summer 2015.

2014 gets lost in there. It has no foreseen exciting events.

This is the first real year of consistency. I guess that’s a new thing in itself, right?

I’ll have to come up with ways to keep this year just as exciting and eye opening as the rest of ‘em.

With nothing on the horizon, may it be full of surprises.

I hope you had a great beginning to 2014.

May this year be full of change, reflection, and happiness.

Be excited.

Koumealo