Letters from a Retired Miner
Last month I invited a missionary friend to visit my house. His son and daughter came to visit him from Scotland so I said come and see my house with your father.
The boy was 15 years old. His name was Gerald. Monica, the girl was 8 years. They were on school holidays. When they came I showed them my house and I introduced them to my uncle and my nephews and my nieces, everybody in the village.
It was their first time to come to Africa. They asked me about my job as a miner in the Copperbelt. I told them about Kitwe and I showed them my pictures when I was working at SOB shaft in Wusakile.
They are very happy children. They played with all the children in the village. When my niece wanted to prepare supper the boy even said I want to light the fire. It was his first time to use matches.
I keep chickens around my house. When I get visitors I prepare chicken for them. This is our tradition.
I asked my niece to prepare the biggest chicken for my visitors. Monica and Gerald joined my niece to chase the chicken around the yard. The boy was very fast. He caught the chicken but he only held its leg. The chicken ran away again.
When the other children got it they brought it back. Gerald said he wanted to help to kill the chicken. My niece asked him to hold its legs together and its wings together with the other hand. Monica was watching with the other children. When my niece cut the neck of the chicken Monica started crying and Gerald also stopped laughing. When the chicken died he also started crying.
At first I thought Gerald had cut his hand because when he brought Monica where we were sitting under the Mango tree, there was blood on his hand. His father explained that it was the first time his children saw a chicken being killed. That is why they were crying.
I was surprised because I know that people in England and Scotland eat a lot of meat and chicken. My missionary friend said some children there think that chickens are made in the supermarket because they have never seen a live chicken.
I said Have they not seen a dead chicken on TV?
He said No. He said one time they were eating supper in front of the TV and on the news they showed pictures of dead people killed in a war in another part of the world. He said Monica asked a lot of questions but she did not cry.
My friend stopped talking for a long time. May be he was thinking, may be he was praying.
Later we talked about other things.
I don't know if Monica will ever eat chicken again because she refused to eat it. Gerald was ok. He ate the chicken.
I started thinking that it its sad that my visitors did not eat a chicken killed for them. May be it is a good idea if children who are coming to visit Africa are told where chicken comes from and how it is prepared. That way they will not cry at supper time.
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