Saturday, April 17, 2010

"Thank You"

I've been craving hard boiled eggs for breakfast for the past couple of days, but the boutique by my house hasn't had any gas tanks for sale and I've been too lazy to walk approximately 3 more blocks to the next boutique. This morning that I all changed. I decided I had to have hard boiled eggs and after I had a very obnoxious interaction with the boutique owner near my house, I ventured further into my quartier to the next boutique. Needless to say I caused quite a stir. A toddler started crying, everyone stared, and people pushed in front of me, but the boutique owner was so incredibly nice. He kept track of where I was in line and made sure I got everything I wanted and finally after I thanked him for helping me, he responded with "thank you." It was so nice. It caught me off guard. Because this boutique owner took the time to be nice he has won my business. I vow to walk three extra blocks to buy soap, gas, eggs, and lets be honest, Biskrem cookies from the boutique owner who takes the time to actually be nice to me and not rip me off.

This afternoon all the women in my family were sitting around about to butcher a chicken and I asked for them to teach me. Since chickens are expensive it is really the only food product that my mom handles - she doesn't want anyone else messing it up. They chopped the head off and let the blood drain and I said that I was going to pluck off the feathers after they poured the scalding water over it and everyone was very excited that I was going to learn how to cook Senegalese food because eventually, down the line, I will be able to find a husband... The boiling water was poured over the chicken and as my first finger was about to touch the chicken my mom yells out that I'm touching it incorrectly. At this point, I have yet to touch the chicken.

I guess how my hand was approaching the chicken was completely unacceptable and I was obviously going to hurt the dead chicken in a bucket so I was asked to stop. I was told that after I watch my mom kill, de-feather, and and butcher 8 more chickens THEN and only then will I be allowed to try. How my mom and my sisters arrived at the number 8 I have no idea, but it appears that not until then will I be ridiculed for not being able to butcher a chicken. It was a pretty funny afternoon. Now I'm waiting to eat said chicken...

1 comment:

  1. Your family is hilarious!! Maybe they think you will forget about learning to butcher a chicken by the time 8 more happen. Please take an uber interest in the process. I want to impress those women with your plucking skills!!!!