“It is tradition to cook a chicken for Neema’s dad when he comes to visit us tomorrow,” Baraka said to us. We were staying with Baraka and his wife Neema in their Dar es-Salaam home having dinner at the dining room table when this conversation came up. Neema had not seen her father in years and since he would be gracing their house with his presence the next morning, Baraka was explaining the importance of cooking a whole chicken. “We’ll be heading to the market tomorrow to get one,” Baraka stated.

“Where is the cheapest chicken?” I asked thinking it was going to be at one of the larger grocery stores. There was a moment of silence and then Baraka said with a slight smile, “We will be picking one out at the market and then we will bring it home and slaughter it.” WHAT? Did i hear that correctly?? That’s crazy! Then again, did I really think they bought frozen chickens in the grocery store when most people here don’t even have freezers? Of course they would slaughter their own chicken just before the big meal. Baraka could tell I was intrigued and invited us along for the experience.

The next morning, while Neema visited with her estranged father, Chris, Baraka, and I headed down the road to the market. When we arrived at the chicken coops, Baraka turned to me and said, “Choose the chicken we will eat. And make sure you grab a hen because they taste better.” I gave him a look of horror and bewilderment as I quickly turned my head to my prey. I actually had to grab the chicken out of the big cage? Baraka opened the door and I slowly put my hands in, trying to figure out which bird would put up the least fight. Sadly, I’ll admit that I was somewhat scared that one would turn and bite me and I would come down with an actual bird flu of some sort. Then, when I finally committed to grabbing one, I missed her. They are fast little suckers! Finally, the chicken coop owner became annoyed with my shenanigans, pushed me aside, and grabbed one of the hens by its wing, and shoved it towards me to hold on to.  I positioned both of its wings behind its back to be sure it wouldn’t escape, and I followed the guy behind the chicken coop to the slaughter house. Surprisingly, the chicken squawked but didn’t put up a fight. Thank you Miss Chicken for not making me look any dumber than I already looked.

I knew we were getting close to the slaughter house when the putrid smell of raw chicken, blood and guts roasting in the mid morning sun caught my nostrils. Whoa… it was nauseating! The shack that housed the men working was tiny. The roof consisted of rusted sheet metal and small, aged branches. There were two of four walls built holding the roof up. There was a sign above the shack with pricing on how much it cost to hire the guys to slaughter the chicken. Luckily it was cheap (~ $0.25 USD) so Baraka decided to hire them to do it quickly instead of us doing it at home. Baraka still wanted me to help after he realized that I had never slaughtered a chicken. I was up front and center when I handed the chicken off to the axe man. He took the chicken, threw it down on the ground and with one swift swing of the axe, the chicken was now two. Ugh, there was blood covering the walls and I quickly glanced down at my legs to make sure the blood hadn’t hit me as well. It was creepy seeing the body move without the head but that didn’t stop the guy from grabbing it’s neck and throwing it into a steaming pot of water. He stirred the whole bird (sans head) around with a large wooden spoon to loosen the feathers. After soaking the bird for 30 seconds, he pulled it out of the pot and threw it to another guy who began stripping it of its feathers. I was surprised at how quickly the feathers came out after soaking it. I had to give the guy credit, he de-feathered the chicken in 5 seconds time…no joke. The last guy was waiting for our prized hen, and when he got it in his hands, he showed that bird who was boss. He had the stomach and guts emptied from the chicken in no time and suddenly it was back in my hands once again; this time, in different form.

It was an experience. A true African experience. I am not currently a vegetarian, but after witnessing the kill, it made me want to reconsider.