One of Breana's students gave her a live chicken so the guards have been watching it for the past week while she feeds it rice to fatten it up a little. She wanted to kill it herself but the girls in the kitchen said she was a Mzungu and couldn't do it right. They slit the chicken's throat and helped her defeather it and prepare it. She put rocks in the bottom of a big pot and put the cut up chicken in a smaller pot inside the big one, making a kind of oven. She had to cook it at a neighbor's house, since our power was out again.
Meanwhile I cleaned house and cut up some pineapple and cabbage for salad. The power came back on after 7 p.m., shortly before our guests arrived, so we didn't have to eat by candlelight. Ellie from England brought a spinach and potato dish and Vanya from Croatia brought homemade pizza. Two young male German missionaries brought Pringles potato chips. Two Tanzanians also came: Gloria, an engineer from Concern, and Mr. Daniels, the assistant headmaster from Breana's school. I don't think potlucks are part of their culture. With so many people, I only got a bite of chicken, since they are undersized to begin with. It was an occasion, though, and quite an experience for Bree. We are so far removed from the whole process in America.
After we ate, Poa deposited a really smelly bowel movement right in front of my closed bedroom door, and everyone took that as a signal to leave. Thanks, Poa!