In the first installation of this story, I ended by saying that my questions were the least of my worries. While I was pondering and lamenting over how stressed we were all going to be at the end of the day, my mother said, “Ai, dress up and go with Aunty Grace to the market. She’ll buy the chickens for you to bring home”. In my mind I was like, “pardin? If the Lord shall make windows in heaven, how shall these things be?” But aloud I said, “I know that I’m expected to bring the chickens home but let’s be realistic. How are those 10 chickens actually getting here? Because God knows…”
“Mbok, let us hear word!” My mum retorted sharply, “when you’re done, call your father to come get you.”
I would like to say at this point that I had a Skype meeting slated for 10:00am with a prospective employer and these people were sending me to the valley of the shadow of death by 8:15am. Without much time to contemplate my fate any further, I set out for the market, met up with my Aunt who had left before me and we proceeded to the chicken area.
This place was overflowing with all types of chicken. Chicken in cages, chicken on the ground, tied up chicken, loose chicken, cockerels, fowls, broilers, layers and even chicks too. I was instantly humbled. Traders were touching me with chicken hands and I couldn’t even protest, talk more of visit the wrath of God on them, lest they turn the Kane the Chicken and shout “FINISH HER”. I was determined to leave the market with body parts intact.
We successfully bought 6 chickens instead of 10 and my aunt left after paying for the merchandise. So I was all alone in the world. The chicken seller packed the birds into two rice sacks (three birds per sack) and cut holes in the sacks to keep the heads of the birds out. This was a bad idea in my opinion. Cover everything. This sack is not even that air tight. If they perish, they perish. But I said nothing. Then my dad called, telling me to come out of the market to a certain shop… I stopped listening. Come out how? How will the birds come out? See someone that should be coming over to Macedonia to help us o! So I said “please, come to the abattoir gate. The bags are heavy.” My father is a kind man and so he drove up to meet me at the gate.
I went back to meet the lady trader to help me convey the birds but alas, she had disappeared. I decided to be brave. I reached out for one of the bags and the chickens turned to look at me, eyeball to eyeball. I didn’t know when I shouted, “Aunty O!!!” and everyone around me started laughing. Have three angry birds given you the stare down before? Until then, you can’t understand.
I took my L in peace, went back to the car summoning my best Helen of Troy face and my father came down to carry the two bags, all the while looking at me like, “did I really father this one?”
See, how I made it back in time to prepare mentally and emotionally for my meeting was just by the grace of God.
So brothers and sisters, let’s all join mouths to beg the federal government of Nigeria to ban the sale/gifting of living animals. Issa menace. Thank you.