The Chicken Incident

While I'm wasting time until my train leaves tomorrow at 7pm, let me share a little story...

During our week of Nepali-style cooking fun in beautiful downtown Bandipur (Nepal), I unwittingly managed to inflict a significant amount of stress on my companions.

Early on, I had suggested - half jokingly - that we should kill and cook a chicken for dinner. After all, chickens are killed and cooked every day all over the world, no? Three of the four of us were not vegetarians, so it seemed like plausible suggestion. We agreed that Jose would kill the chicken, Eduardo would clean it (pull off the feathers), Maria would cook it, and I, being the only vegetarian, would supervise (actually, I don’t recall what my official role was…I was more the instigator).

After the arrangement, we all quickly forgot about the plan. Until one day when I began walking around town asking for a chicken. I simply made chicken noises (bok bok bok) and asked "kati rupia?" (how much?) to the great amusement of the local Nepali people, who I suspect had never seen a westerner looking to purchase a live chicken. Being the designated assassin, Jose accompanied me on the search, which we never thought would result in an actual purchase. But then we met the tailor on our street, whose house was surrounded by chickens. Turns out a big one cost 500 Nepali rupees and a small one cost 200. We bought a small white one and carried it home.

Eduardo and Maria were shocked and - it's fair enough to say – rather horrified. Maria put the chicken in the bathroom with some water and corn bits while we suddenly needed a serious group discussion about "the plan." Maria and Eduardo were overwhelmed; they needed to have a short walk to get some air and consider the proposition of actually taking the life of the cute little chicken. That’s when Jose suggested that we simply handle the job ourselves while they were away. Which we did.

While I did not physically kill the chicken, I was there watching as its life was taken. My heart pounded and I shook, pacing the kitchen for almost an hour afterward. It was a harrowing experience to say the least.

In the end, Maria managed to eat a leg, but Eduardo couldn’t eat anything. I felt badly for subjecting them to such a stressful experience in the middle of our brilliant holiday, but honestly I never imagined they would take it so hard! After all, what we did was actually humane, and our chicken had a good life, right?

So, was it wrong? Am I now being punished for taking the life of a helpless chicken? After all, “non-killing” is one of the main tenets of Hindu and Buddhist philosophy…

Only God knows for sure..

Until next time,
The Heartless Chicken Assassin