I find myself wondering if/when my house will feel like home…if ever. I am fine living there, and at times, I appreciate certain aspects of it, but I don’t love it or even like it sometimes, it doesn’t feel like me, and it certainly doesn’t feel like home yet. It remains feeling more like camping, or being a guest in someone else’s house, a house that doesn’t reflect yourself very well, a very transitory existence. I am hoping that that will change with time, because I certainly want to feel settled here, instead of a little uncomfortable for two years. But maybe that’s good for me as well and will teach me new lessons.
At least the majority of time, I don’t want to leave it, and on the days when I do want to leave, it’s never Cameroon, or the north…just my house and village.
I asked some other volunteers when it will feel like home, and they said it will eventually, and you know when you go away for a few weeks and come back and think “Oh it’s good to be home.” As I stay there longer, and have more furniture and the kitchen becomes more stocked, I’m sure it will feel better, but for now, I’m not quite there yet…
Friday, January 23, 2009
January 15th --Running
This morning I went running for the first time in MK. I woke up around 5:00 and couldn’t get back to sleep. I had wanted to go running for a while, and so I thought, OK, now’s the time. It was dark outside and the sun had a good 30 minutes before it would even be close enough provide dawn. I started out and ran by the well, where I could make out only the vague forms of two women and a child drawing water. I took the path towards the mountain, a sandy path, which makes me feel right at home, running on sand. I had only been a few hundred yards on this path past the outskirts of the village before, so it was all an exploration. I rounded the mountain and the path came upon a dry river bed, all white sand. I’m sure in the rainy season this is actually quite a large river, which is exciting to think about seeing in half a year. There were no people about really, and the sounds of bees in the trees overhead and many many different bird sounds. The light of the moon was just enough to make out the difference in color between the white sand path and the fields of corn and trees to either side. Across the river bed I could see two fires of a camp Mborroro/Peul herders and the shapes of their white cattle. On either side of the path and river bed mountains rose up. I ran for 45 minutes or so and gradually dawn brought light. When it was very light, before sunrise, I was on the other side mountain, and came upon a set of little huts. I wasn’t sure if it was a Peul campment, and as I hadn’t done protocol (introducing myself) with any of the Peul chiefs I decided I’d better stop instead of running through the village. But there was one Peul in the field with his cows and he saw me approaching before I had stopped. We both stopped, looked at each other from a distance of 200 m or so. And then I was gifted with a simple conversation.
Him: A don wadda sport? Are you excercising? (Doing the sport)
Me: Oho mi don dogga. Yes. I’m running
Him: Ha toy? Where
Me. Mi don dogga tan. I’m just running.
Him: A don walla ha Sanguere Paul? Do you stay/ Are you from Sanguere Paul?
Me: Oho, saare am ha Mafa Kilda. Yes, my house is in Mafa Kilda.
Hado wouro ma? Is this your village?
Him: (something I couldn’t make out) Oho (gesturing towards the houses)
A pause of a minute or so
Me: Mi loran. I will return, (now).
And then I left.
It was quite amazing actually…the whole situation, the place, the time of day, the two of us from two completely different worlds and cultures. It’s something to have such an innocent and simple conversation. To have such an exchange which is not cluttered with words, but acknowledges You are here and I am here and we both know that and are both alive and talking to each other.
On the way back, I stopped to climb one of the mountains, looking for a cave. The mountains are very rocky and full of little caves. I got up to what I thought was one, to find it was more just a crevice, so I sat high on a rock overlooking the river valley, surrounded on all sides by mountain. It was like a bowl through which the river runs right through the middle. From my vantage point, there were no people, no buildings, no power lines, nothing but the mountains. And as such, it could have been the year 2009 or 1000 years ago. I just sat there, thinking and watching, accompanied by bees and bird sounds, until the sun rose high enough to light up first the tip of the next door hill, then the more of it, then more of it, golden sunlight creeping down the mountain and filling the valley of corn fields. With that I headed back. How beautiful to run one direction in the dark, and to run back in the light, seeing everything for the first time. Oh so this is what the river bank looks like! Oh here’s a little hut I missed. I passed the herders and their cows as well, whose fires I had seen on the way out, and we exchanged a few sentences as I ran by and they sat on the path talking. And as I ran back, I passed women and men heading out to their fields for the morning, hoes in hand. Finally making it back to my house around 7:30am, ready to get on with the day, but in such a better mental and heart state.
Him: A don wadda sport? Are you excercising? (Doing the sport)
Me: Oho mi don dogga. Yes. I’m running
Him: Ha toy? Where
Me. Mi don dogga tan. I’m just running.
Him: A don walla ha Sanguere Paul? Do you stay/ Are you from Sanguere Paul?
Me: Oho, saare am ha Mafa Kilda. Yes, my house is in Mafa Kilda.
Hado wouro ma? Is this your village?
Him: (something I couldn’t make out) Oho (gesturing towards the houses)
A pause of a minute or so
Me: Mi loran. I will return, (now).
And then I left.
It was quite amazing actually…the whole situation, the place, the time of day, the two of us from two completely different worlds and cultures. It’s something to have such an innocent and simple conversation. To have such an exchange which is not cluttered with words, but acknowledges You are here and I am here and we both know that and are both alive and talking to each other.
On the way back, I stopped to climb one of the mountains, looking for a cave. The mountains are very rocky and full of little caves. I got up to what I thought was one, to find it was more just a crevice, so I sat high on a rock overlooking the river valley, surrounded on all sides by mountain. It was like a bowl through which the river runs right through the middle. From my vantage point, there were no people, no buildings, no power lines, nothing but the mountains. And as such, it could have been the year 2009 or 1000 years ago. I just sat there, thinking and watching, accompanied by bees and bird sounds, until the sun rose high enough to light up first the tip of the next door hill, then the more of it, then more of it, golden sunlight creeping down the mountain and filling the valley of corn fields. With that I headed back. How beautiful to run one direction in the dark, and to run back in the light, seeing everything for the first time. Oh so this is what the river bank looks like! Oh here’s a little hut I missed. I passed the herders and their cows as well, whose fires I had seen on the way out, and we exchanged a few sentences as I ran by and they sat on the path talking. And as I ran back, I passed women and men heading out to their fields for the morning, hoes in hand. Finally making it back to my house around 7:30am, ready to get on with the day, but in such a better mental and heart state.
Jan 14 cont.
Community Woodlot Proposal
1 hectare of land set aside on some of the land at the school. ¼ of the hectare will be used to plant trees for use of traditional medicine. The other ¾ will be for community use of wood: for construction, for cooking. A committee will set a price for an amount of wood and if community members want it, they will pay that amount. The money will go into the school parents group fund, to be put towards school needs. It’s a good concept I think. There is such a need for firewood, and most women in village go “en brouse” at great distances, in search for firewood. Having access to it closer is a good thing, as is planting trees in village generally. (I’m wondering, though, if families will still choose to go ‘en brousse’ to find wood if it means it’s free, rather than pay to buy wood right in town…) My counterpart has dreams as well, as holding seminars there, to teach people about different uses of trees in medicine, and wants to have little plaques at the bottom of each tree with the name in French, Fulfulde, Mafa and Latin. He has a teaching heart, which is beautiful. All of it will be surrounded by a live fence of spiny trees.
1 hectare of land set aside on some of the land at the school. ¼ of the hectare will be used to plant trees for use of traditional medicine. The other ¾ will be for community use of wood: for construction, for cooking. A committee will set a price for an amount of wood and if community members want it, they will pay that amount. The money will go into the school parents group fund, to be put towards school needs. It’s a good concept I think. There is such a need for firewood, and most women in village go “en brouse” at great distances, in search for firewood. Having access to it closer is a good thing, as is planting trees in village generally. (I’m wondering, though, if families will still choose to go ‘en brousse’ to find wood if it means it’s free, rather than pay to buy wood right in town…) My counterpart has dreams as well, as holding seminars there, to teach people about different uses of trees in medicine, and wants to have little plaques at the bottom of each tree with the name in French, Fulfulde, Mafa and Latin. He has a teaching heart, which is beautiful. All of it will be surrounded by a live fence of spiny trees.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
January 14th-- Community Meeting/Community Forest
This morning we had a second community meeting in my village. The first we scheduled Saturday the 10th, so that I could formally introduce myself to the village (or the men who came to the meeting representing the village), speak a little about who I am, where I come from, what the Peace Corps is, the Importance of Trees and what Agroforestry is, and then what we can possibly do together over the next two years. I spoke in French and it was translated into Fulfulde. As it was more of an introduction the first meeting, I mentioned a few projects that other volunteers had done with their community, such as water catchments woodlots, beekeeping, orchards, forming group associations (a legal process in Cameroon which is encouraged, as groups can then take out loans) as well as working individually with farmers. 8 years ago, with a group of student researchers from France in the area of water and forests, who came every year for a few months at a time to do research on MK as part of master’s projects, the researchers started talking with my counterpart about developing a community forest. A technical community forest in Cameroon is a huge tract of land (often over 5000 hectares, 1 hectare being 100 m by 100 m) that is legally set aside and cannot be “developed” or trees removed illegally, etc. It is a legally protected area to be used by the communities involved. I’m not sure who decides, then, who can use the wood, because the forest is intended for people to use, for wood, for trees, etc. But at the same time, the aim is for reforestation and protection of land. It is a good cause and a great goal, however to actually succeed it takes a lot, especially in an area like MK, where many different ethnic groups are involved and with high tribalism, coming to any sort of agreement is difficult. Add onto that the nomadic groups who move through the area and the already high tensions between herders and agriculturalists, and finding consensus about the use of common land becomes near impossible (but anything could be possible, I like to believe). In addition, the paperwork to get through the process is quite daunting. So, five years after they were working on this concept (when a neighboring village wouldn’t get on board), the idea died, in 2005. However, my counterpart still was interested in the idea, and mentioned, perhaps Mafa Kilda could do a small one (woodlot) and if it goes well, it could serve as an example for other villages and then when they saw the results they would want to get on board. So this is really the pet project of my counterpart, because he is trained in traditional medicine with plants, and is hoping to benefit from having access to medicinal trees all in one place, which is fantastic.
After the first community meeting where we mentioned the idea of the woodlot again, my counterpart scheduled another meeting for the 14th to discuss this more in depth. We had a second meeting in front of the second chief of the village’s house. Less people showed up, and I was disappointed to see that a lot of the people from the Muslim cartier were not there for the second meeting. In addition women are not represented at village meetings. The first one I came to I was under the impression would be the whole village, men, women, kids, where I could say hello to everyone, and everyone would be clued in to who I am and what I’m doing in their village. And I showed up and there were 50 men. I asked my counterpart “I thought this was a village meeting!” And he said, “it is.” And I said “I was under the impression that a village meeting would include all members of the village.” And he said “It does, they’re all here.” And I said “What about the women?” And he said “Oh well generally women aren’t included as members.” Yes…So I have to rely on their husbands disseminating the information in their own households, which may or may not happen, and then my own relationships with women in the community. Not what I would have hoped for, but it’s the culture and you work with the culture. (I will schedule separate meetings for the women of the village.) During this second meeting I hardly spoke at all, and let my counterpart do all the speaking and formalizing. It was certainly an interesting experience to watch from the sidelines, complicated a little by the fact that because I wasn’t speaking, nothing was really translated out of Fulfulde or Mafa. But it started with an overview of the project idea, they debated whether or not they wanted to go ahead with this project, and were all on board, and then they moved to elect a committee of 12 people, a representative of each cartier and I think they ended up with 5 women and 7 men, which is incredible. All that was done in an hour. So we are going ahead with the planning and hopefully planting of a woodlot, hopefully choosing species, finding seed, deciding who will do the growing of seedlings, writing up laws of the committee and woodlot, all in time to plant at the beginning of the rainy season. I think one of my roles will be to make sure that as many people in the community are involved, including incorporating education of the students at the primary school, as they will be right next door to it. The risk is that in looking at a project those carrying it out will only look at it is solving a problem. They will plan it and make sure it’s in place and execute it. However, they might overlook getting the community involved and making sure everyone is informed. And I mean this is a problem for everyone, development workers, community members, anyone, whoever is in charge. If you have a project which is planned and carried out only by a small group of people, it will not be successful because there will be no community ownership and even understanding of what is going on. People will be out of the loop and have no part of either the process or reaping the benefits, because they will carry on life as usual. So I will try to talk about it a lot, with kids I play with, with women I cook with, with families, with the church, etc.
Part of me feels like this is going very fast, and isn’t really the Peace Corps “model” which encourages volunteers to sit still for three months (especially those opening a post), to not get into projects, to only focus on language and getting to know the community, as well to assess the motivation of various individuals, and scope out who are good people to work with and who are the less reliable ones. That maybe all of a sudden I have arrived and expressed interest in the idea of a Community forest and my counterpart is pushing ahead to get it done. However, no Peace Corps experience is cut and dry and every one is unique. For the past few years because MK has had researchers in the area of water and forests come to work the communities work with development is not new. I feel like I might have entered the picture right at the correct moment where they are ready to go forward after years and years of thinking about it, and so better to just go with it rather than try to put on the brakes because it doesn’t fit the “model.”
On another note it’s better for me to take a back seat anyway, as I’m here as a resource but not director. The less involved I am with the planning and execution, the better, as then the community will have more ownership, understanding, and if successful, pride of the project. It will serve as an example that they themselves can decide and execute something on their own, without the need for outside aid. Which is definitely good. So we’ll see. The project is very exciting and I’m looking forward to it working, hoping that it goes well.
After the first community meeting where we mentioned the idea of the woodlot again, my counterpart scheduled another meeting for the 14th to discuss this more in depth. We had a second meeting in front of the second chief of the village’s house. Less people showed up, and I was disappointed to see that a lot of the people from the Muslim cartier were not there for the second meeting. In addition women are not represented at village meetings. The first one I came to I was under the impression would be the whole village, men, women, kids, where I could say hello to everyone, and everyone would be clued in to who I am and what I’m doing in their village. And I showed up and there were 50 men. I asked my counterpart “I thought this was a village meeting!” And he said, “it is.” And I said “I was under the impression that a village meeting would include all members of the village.” And he said “It does, they’re all here.” And I said “What about the women?” And he said “Oh well generally women aren’t included as members.” Yes…So I have to rely on their husbands disseminating the information in their own households, which may or may not happen, and then my own relationships with women in the community. Not what I would have hoped for, but it’s the culture and you work with the culture. (I will schedule separate meetings for the women of the village.) During this second meeting I hardly spoke at all, and let my counterpart do all the speaking and formalizing. It was certainly an interesting experience to watch from the sidelines, complicated a little by the fact that because I wasn’t speaking, nothing was really translated out of Fulfulde or Mafa. But it started with an overview of the project idea, they debated whether or not they wanted to go ahead with this project, and were all on board, and then they moved to elect a committee of 12 people, a representative of each cartier and I think they ended up with 5 women and 7 men, which is incredible. All that was done in an hour. So we are going ahead with the planning and hopefully planting of a woodlot, hopefully choosing species, finding seed, deciding who will do the growing of seedlings, writing up laws of the committee and woodlot, all in time to plant at the beginning of the rainy season. I think one of my roles will be to make sure that as many people in the community are involved, including incorporating education of the students at the primary school, as they will be right next door to it. The risk is that in looking at a project those carrying it out will only look at it is solving a problem. They will plan it and make sure it’s in place and execute it. However, they might overlook getting the community involved and making sure everyone is informed. And I mean this is a problem for everyone, development workers, community members, anyone, whoever is in charge. If you have a project which is planned and carried out only by a small group of people, it will not be successful because there will be no community ownership and even understanding of what is going on. People will be out of the loop and have no part of either the process or reaping the benefits, because they will carry on life as usual. So I will try to talk about it a lot, with kids I play with, with women I cook with, with families, with the church, etc.
Part of me feels like this is going very fast, and isn’t really the Peace Corps “model” which encourages volunteers to sit still for three months (especially those opening a post), to not get into projects, to only focus on language and getting to know the community, as well to assess the motivation of various individuals, and scope out who are good people to work with and who are the less reliable ones. That maybe all of a sudden I have arrived and expressed interest in the idea of a Community forest and my counterpart is pushing ahead to get it done. However, no Peace Corps experience is cut and dry and every one is unique. For the past few years because MK has had researchers in the area of water and forests come to work the communities work with development is not new. I feel like I might have entered the picture right at the correct moment where they are ready to go forward after years and years of thinking about it, and so better to just go with it rather than try to put on the brakes because it doesn’t fit the “model.”
On another note it’s better for me to take a back seat anyway, as I’m here as a resource but not director. The less involved I am with the planning and execution, the better, as then the community will have more ownership, understanding, and if successful, pride of the project. It will serve as an example that they themselves can decide and execute something on their own, without the need for outside aid. Which is definitely good. So we’ll see. The project is very exciting and I’m looking forward to it working, hoping that it goes well.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Books
I knew that I would be reading a lot in Peace Corps, as volunteers often read more during this time of their life than any other, because of free time (one of the reasons I belong in Peace Corps…), and honestly, when temperatures are over 130 what else are you going to do but lie around in the shade? So I brought some books, and it really took a long time narrowing down which ones I would bring with, as books are a little weighty. So half of them were technical books and half were others, which I hadn’t read yet, and thought, Oh great I can read these books I’ve always wanted to but haven’t gotten too. I’m not one who rereads books very often, my motto in life being “so many books to read, so little time.” But funny, now that I’m here, and away from home, it’s not new books I want to read, but the one’s I have already read, the ones that meant so much to me, the ones that spoke to my life and myself. And I think if only I had packed those books, just to have, as a piece of home, to reread, to remember, to pick out quotes and paint on my walls. Walking on Water, Dance of the Dissident Daughter, The Gift of the Sea, Prodigal Summer, Henri Nouwen, Thomas Merton. Oh why, oh why did I not stick those in my luggage? I’m sure I will find other good ones here, and it’s true the Garoua office library is overflowing with books, 50% of which I would like to read. And family have sent me other wonderful ones. And other volunteers have their own personal books. (Whenever I go to a volunteers house one of the first things I do is peruse their bookshelf.) And those new books will become time markers for this period. But interesting how books become as much of a comfort as other aspects of life, in a way I never expected.
And I really wish I had brought my copy of the movie Sipping Jetstreams too….Didn’t realize there would be such access to movie watching capabilities.
And I really wish I had brought my copy of the movie Sipping Jetstreams too….Didn’t realize there would be such access to movie watching capabilities.
diagram of my house
For all of you out there who have been asking what my house is like (Mom), here's a little diagram I attempted (not so successfully) on Paint, which you can mesh with any photos of my house that I upload for a full picture of where it is I reside.... 
(blue-bedroom, yellow-kitchen, green-salon, other little room-latrine, crosshatching-hangar)
Sugar Chicken
There is still no door between my area and the Djakaya family area, and while the walls are up, the corners are not, meaning there are spaces through which little eyes can peer (although generally, they prefer to just stand in the open doorway or enter into my little couryard and stare at me doing whatever I'm doing. Note, just stare and watch, not speak. Needless to say, this gets old and I will rejoice the day that the walls are done, the door is up, and I can have a little privacy and peace-quiet is out of the question because the 2 year old's screaming wafts over said walls into my area at all hours of the day and night.)
But this open door policy/situation means that there is nothing stopping the animals from coming in and out of my courtyard and area. Animals in this case means chickens, goats, cats. (just now, there was a lively cat fight on the other side of my door in the darkness, quite vicious by the sound of it) The goats are funny--they stop at the threshold of my door and peer in. And I got very angry at two the other day, who came in my courtyard. I was inside and heard a slightly suspicious sound that made me think there was another animal doing something suspicious in my courtyard. I went out and yes two goats, who scattered, exitting through my door. I discovered what they had been doing in my courtyard, so suspiciously quiet. They had been munching on a guava tree my friend in Nassarao had given me to plant at my new house. It's still in its little polypot, not yet planted and they managed to chomp almost half of its leaves, in record time. Goats here are amazing--they have a keen ability to sniff out any little tree and eat it. And when planting trees, protection from goats might be the number 1 priority, even over watering, depending on season!
But this story is about the chickens. Oh the chickens. They water all about don't they! And here in the Djakaya household, there are about 2 roosters, 3-4 hens, and now 5 chicks. They wander in my courtyard, they wander out, in, out, all day. And I don’t mind at all because they leave behind manure, which I toss into the compost pile. And they of course love to frolic in the compost, sorting through for good bits. But they sure are funny, never really sure of where they’re going, and always flustered and squalking when you corner them somehow, going about your business. But there’s this one hen, let’s just call her “Sugar.” She’s white with some black speckling. I leave my front door to my salon open through the day sometimes when I’m going about chores. And a week ago, the door was open and I went in to see 2 hens and a rooster wandering around my livingroom and kitchen. “Chickens! Out!” They seemed pretty confused when I entered the picture and I’m not sure what they were up to, but I shoed them out. Since then, “Sugar” has entered my house regularly, maybe 5 or 6 times. Whenever there is a chicken in my house, it is her. I go out to get water from the well, come back and, up, there’s sugar in my living room. And every time, she astounds me by demonstrating how dumb chickens really are. It is as if she has no memory retention at all-and maybe this is true for chickens. Each time I find her wandering around the salon, I enter and she says “oh my, oh my, what do I do now?” And runs around squalking (and if I get too close, flapping) So I try to circle around on the other side of her at which point she makes a break for it out the door, saying “oh phew, danger is gone, I escaped.” This, seriously has become routine. Yet for her, the surprise, the anxiety, and the relief upon exit are all new each time. However, sometimes she forgets the door outside is the best option, and makes a break for the other door—leading to the kitchen. This too has a door, leading to the latrine. This is a dead end. “Go out this door. No no no no this is the one you want, not that one. Oh great.” So if she runs all the way to the latrine, because I left all three doors open, I have to follow her to the latrine, circle around her in those close confines, at which point she runs as fast as she can through the exact same doors through which she just came, and to freedom. “Oh few, a door—too bad it wasn’t there before!” Each time I think, “if you’d only remember which door it is you want—to the outside.” But she is so ridiculously dumb. I’m not sure what she wants inside—maybe its cooler because of shade? (Really, I think chickens just wander around and into places that confuse them)
So today I found her in my salon again, and tried to get her to go out the door, but instead she ran from me into the kitchen and into the latrine. So I said “fine, I’m locking you in here for a while to teach you a lesson.” So I shut the door. And I’m very glad I remembered about 20 minutes later, because if I forgot I could have had a dead chicken on my hands, because there’s not really shad or water in there. But I finished washing my dishes and went back to let her out. She was perfectly fine, wandering around the 6 by 10 feet room, but commenced the squalking when I came in and circled around her to shoe her out. Running from me back out the salon door “Oh I’m glad I got away from that scary person again, I don’t think she likes me too much. Oh a door, great, I’ll run through it.”
So I was thinking maybe after being locked in the latrine, she wouldn’t cross my threshold again. Something about having a bad experience affecting future behavior. Anyway, I went out to dig a couple of holes to plant those threes in (which is another story altogether). I came back in and was cleaning up about 2 hours later and threw something in the compost pile. And I saw, next to it one of my bags of sugar (about 1 cup) spilled on the ground. “That’s odd” I thought, I had just used a bag of sugar like that. Was this mine? Did one of the kids come in and take it and drop it here? So I went in, and sure enough my bag of sugar was missing from my shelf. And upon closer inspection, my bag of rice had a hole in it too, and there were grains spilling out! Yes, not children—chicken. And I’m sure I know which one too. Maybe she was getting me back for locking her in the bathroom. She must have made a mad dash, baggy of sugar in bill, through all the rooms (finding her own way out. But how in the world would the chicken make it all the way out of the kitchen and salon without leaving a trail of sugar. I can just see her strolling through casually holding her new prize in her bill until she made it out my front door, only to peck open the bag next to the compost pile. I only wish I could have seen it. She's lucky I'm a vegetarian....
But this open door policy/situation means that there is nothing stopping the animals from coming in and out of my courtyard and area. Animals in this case means chickens, goats, cats. (just now, there was a lively cat fight on the other side of my door in the darkness, quite vicious by the sound of it) The goats are funny--they stop at the threshold of my door and peer in. And I got very angry at two the other day, who came in my courtyard. I was inside and heard a slightly suspicious sound that made me think there was another animal doing something suspicious in my courtyard. I went out and yes two goats, who scattered, exitting through my door. I discovered what they had been doing in my courtyard, so suspiciously quiet. They had been munching on a guava tree my friend in Nassarao had given me to plant at my new house. It's still in its little polypot, not yet planted and they managed to chomp almost half of its leaves, in record time. Goats here are amazing--they have a keen ability to sniff out any little tree and eat it. And when planting trees, protection from goats might be the number 1 priority, even over watering, depending on season!
But this story is about the chickens. Oh the chickens. They water all about don't they! And here in the Djakaya household, there are about 2 roosters, 3-4 hens, and now 5 chicks. They wander in my courtyard, they wander out, in, out, all day. And I don’t mind at all because they leave behind manure, which I toss into the compost pile. And they of course love to frolic in the compost, sorting through for good bits. But they sure are funny, never really sure of where they’re going, and always flustered and squalking when you corner them somehow, going about your business. But there’s this one hen, let’s just call her “Sugar.” She’s white with some black speckling. I leave my front door to my salon open through the day sometimes when I’m going about chores. And a week ago, the door was open and I went in to see 2 hens and a rooster wandering around my livingroom and kitchen. “Chickens! Out!” They seemed pretty confused when I entered the picture and I’m not sure what they were up to, but I shoed them out. Since then, “Sugar” has entered my house regularly, maybe 5 or 6 times. Whenever there is a chicken in my house, it is her. I go out to get water from the well, come back and, up, there’s sugar in my living room. And every time, she astounds me by demonstrating how dumb chickens really are. It is as if she has no memory retention at all-and maybe this is true for chickens. Each time I find her wandering around the salon, I enter and she says “oh my, oh my, what do I do now?” And runs around squalking (and if I get too close, flapping) So I try to circle around on the other side of her at which point she makes a break for it out the door, saying “oh phew, danger is gone, I escaped.” This, seriously has become routine. Yet for her, the surprise, the anxiety, and the relief upon exit are all new each time. However, sometimes she forgets the door outside is the best option, and makes a break for the other door—leading to the kitchen. This too has a door, leading to the latrine. This is a dead end. “Go out this door. No no no no this is the one you want, not that one. Oh great.” So if she runs all the way to the latrine, because I left all three doors open, I have to follow her to the latrine, circle around her in those close confines, at which point she runs as fast as she can through the exact same doors through which she just came, and to freedom. “Oh few, a door—too bad it wasn’t there before!” Each time I think, “if you’d only remember which door it is you want—to the outside.” But she is so ridiculously dumb. I’m not sure what she wants inside—maybe its cooler because of shade? (Really, I think chickens just wander around and into places that confuse them)
So today I found her in my salon again, and tried to get her to go out the door, but instead she ran from me into the kitchen and into the latrine. So I said “fine, I’m locking you in here for a while to teach you a lesson.” So I shut the door. And I’m very glad I remembered about 20 minutes later, because if I forgot I could have had a dead chicken on my hands, because there’s not really shad or water in there. But I finished washing my dishes and went back to let her out. She was perfectly fine, wandering around the 6 by 10 feet room, but commenced the squalking when I came in and circled around her to shoe her out. Running from me back out the salon door “Oh I’m glad I got away from that scary person again, I don’t think she likes me too much. Oh a door, great, I’ll run through it.”
So I was thinking maybe after being locked in the latrine, she wouldn’t cross my threshold again. Something about having a bad experience affecting future behavior. Anyway, I went out to dig a couple of holes to plant those threes in (which is another story altogether). I came back in and was cleaning up about 2 hours later and threw something in the compost pile. And I saw, next to it one of my bags of sugar (about 1 cup) spilled on the ground. “That’s odd” I thought, I had just used a bag of sugar like that. Was this mine? Did one of the kids come in and take it and drop it here? So I went in, and sure enough my bag of sugar was missing from my shelf. And upon closer inspection, my bag of rice had a hole in it too, and there were grains spilling out! Yes, not children—chicken. And I’m sure I know which one too. Maybe she was getting me back for locking her in the bathroom. She must have made a mad dash, baggy of sugar in bill, through all the rooms (finding her own way out. But how in the world would the chicken make it all the way out of the kitchen and salon without leaving a trail of sugar. I can just see her strolling through casually holding her new prize in her bill until she made it out my front door, only to peck open the bag next to the compost pile. I only wish I could have seen it. She's lucky I'm a vegetarian....
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