This is the story of Bert, the chicken Joel bought me for secret santa for Christmas in July in Kenya.
Hi. My name is Bert, and yes, I am a chicken.
My life was pretty normal for a chicken in Kenya, just
hanging out with all the other chickens in the coop, when one day I was…sold.
Me and this other chicken were taken out to this guy – a weird
guy with crazy hair and beard. He bought me, and the other chicken was bought
by the other man that was there. Crazy beard guy then put in a plastic bag –
for almost an entire day! It was so humiliating. But then, I could feel that I
was being carried somewhere. We came into this room and I still had no idea
what was going on. After all, I was still in this stupid bag! But there was a
lot of laughter, and I could tell there were about 7 people in the room.
Well, my bag is handed over to someone, and this someone
starts poking the bag and asking really loudly “Is it alive???”. Well, duh, Of
course I’m alive. But the bag opens, and I hear a loud squeal, followed by LOTS
of laughter. This girl shouts out “He bought me a chicken!” This was followed
by much more laughter. I didn’t get what was so funny.
Anyway, so this room is dark (guess the power was out
again), and this girl keeps me in her lap for the rest of the evening. Man,
these people are loud! At the end of the night she goes to let me loose in the
yard when some ladies I haven’t seen before suggest that it might be better for
me to meet the other chickens in the morning. Other chickens? What other
chickens? But this girl agrees and they put me underneath a bench and close off
any exits, so that’s where I spend the night.
The next morning I meet the other chickens. There must be at
least 10 of them, already friends. I don’t fit in at all. I mean, I know my
awesome tuft of feathers is why the crazy beard guy chose me, but these other
chickens don’t like my style at all! So I just hang out on my own for a while.
These white people who now own me are kinda cool, I guess. They give me lots of
food, more than they give the other chickens (might also be part of the reason
they don’t like me). But these muzungus also chase me around a lot, so I’m a
little unsure about it all.
And then, three
days later, things change again! They put me in a box! How humiliating! This is
even worse than that bag. A cardboard box – for an entire day. I don’t know
where we’re going but I know we’re going somewhere because we’re obviously on a
crazy bumpy road. About halfway through the trip we stop for a little bit. We
must be changing cars since my box is moved, but I don’t really know what’s
going on. I’m hearing all this talk about passports and borders, and who knows
what else. I think this is what they call travelling?
Anyway, we start driving again, and then finally we stop.
Just as I’m falling asleep. And do they let me sleep? Noooo. These crazy people
of mine immediately start shaking my box! I guess they think I’m dead or
something, because when I finally move they all cheer.
We get into a hotel room, and I’m thinking, now what? I’m a
chicken for crying out loud! What am I doing in a hotel? Well, I guess
management doesn’t know I’m here because they put me in the bathroom and keep
telling me to be quiet. But a bathroom! Really? Well, I guess its better than
that box!
So, they put in a basin in a bathroom and then I guess
they’re feeling guilty about the box because they start to take real good care
of me. They give me popcorn, and bread, and water. And they keep cleaning up my
poop! And that girl, who I guess owns me, and her friend, well, they keep
petting me, and talking to me. So I guess life isn’t so bad – I could get used
to this.
But the next morning…back in the box! Who are these people
and what’s their fascination with boxes???
At least it was only a short trip this time – less than an
hour. Then we get to this property with a house and some walled in pavement and
grass. Its kinda hard to explain, but it looks nice. Well, they finally let me
out again, but this time some locals decide to tie my legs together! I guess
it’s so I don’t try to run away, but you try walking around and eating with your
legs tied together. It’s hard! But eventually even those come undone, and for
the first time in days I’m free. I even get to sleep on the concrete floor in
the living room one night.
But then, of course, everything changes again! My box is now
completely destroyed, so this time they put me straight in the trunk of the
car. It’s nice and dark in there, but so bumpy! Eventually I got tired of
losing my balance and just sat in the corner.
And then we came to Goshenland. It’s beautiful here. It’s
green, and there is so much space to run around. There are other chickens, but
they all mostly keep to themselves, which is fine for me. I hang out behind
this tin shack, which is super awesome because several times a day smoke comes
out of it, and then food scraps appear behind it. I think they call it a kitchen, which is think is code for place where amazing things come from.
The only thing I don’t like about this place is that there
are children everywhere! And usually they leave me alone, except for when those
weird muzungus decide they want to hold me, and then all the kids start chasing
me around trying to catch me. Sometimes I let them catch me so that they feel
successful. Besides, as long as they pass me off to one of my muzungus right
away, it’s not so bad.
Anyway, that’s my life. I keep hearing the words Tanzania and Kenya floating around, but I don`t know if that means more
travelling, or if that means that I am going to be able to settle in a nice
life here in Goshenland. I guess only time will tell…
