Chicken Wars II

You wouldn't believe it. Yesterday, the bloody red chook got out again! Witness my stunning defeat and subsequent humiliation.

I was so over the whole thing. I followed it around half heartedly for 10 minutes, making the occasional lunge. I was out of bread, so I tried to set up a cardboard box trap with sunflower seeds, which didn't particularly work. So I gave up and went and washed my hair in a basin in the courtyard. Quite difficult actually. Host Mum came home and I pointed and said "chicken, too fast". She walked over to the gate and opened it wide and the other chickens and the rooster started to wander across the threshold. She walked up to red chicken and shooed it towards the gate, and it and all the other chooks scurried back into their yard. She banged the door. Less than ten seconds and it was all over.

Oh and the other point I was wondering about- chickens definitely do eat number twos. In fact, I can report that the rooster seemed to particularly enjoy mine. Uggh. This begs the question: Should I be eating the eggs? Is it unhiegenic or just another part of the great circle of life? I eat what they lay and they eat what I .... Enough said. I have probably lost half my readership with this last paragraph. My apologies.

My host mum finally had a little free time yesterday and she took me across the road to her Mosuo mother in law's place again. They are still matrilineal over there, apart from the son who moved across the road when he married the Tibetan English teacher. Gran lives there with several sons, a daughter and I think a grandchild. The kitchen has no windows and is pitch black except for a roaring fire at the hearth which is used for cooking, boiling water and warming toes. Yesterday after lunch, it was me, teacher, gran, her daughter and another woman who lives nearby all sitting around the fire. They gossiped while I sat quietly and smiled and then we all drank cups of green tea with salt and ate Zamba. Zamba is a light brown powder, you scoop a large teaspoonful up and toss it into the back of your throat (not touching the spoon which goes back in the pot) generally (if you're me or grandma) sprinkling it all over yourself in the process. You follow it with a sip of salty tea. It looks a little like their tossing back shots of tequila rather than teaspoons of a certain type of wheat flour. If you want to get yourself right into my experience make a little black tea and add a teasp0on of salt, toss a heaped teaspoon of wholemeal flour down your throat, sip some tea to make a gluggy paste and try not to choke. I found I can manage it as long as I just eat a little Zamba at a time. Bit disappointing that it's just wheat flour though. I was expecting to get high, given the relish with which they ate it.

We went back home and Host mum taught me some Mosuo words and sentences. They have been very curious about my obvious liking of the cat, so made sure she taught me how to say "I like cat" (nya huali fe) and "cat likes me" (huali nya fe). At dinner (rice, pig stomach, stir fried potatoes, cabbage, toufu) I was given the privilege of giving the cat an English name, after I enquired what it was called. I called it Twiggy, as it is very skinny and refuses to eat rice like any normal cat but will only eat expensive things like fish and meat. So it is slowly starving to death. I wonder if it has worms. Does anyone know any home remedies for worms? I haven't exactly noticed yongning being overwhelmed with Vets.

I drew a picture of a person and of a face and mum and I set off back to mother in law's house after tea, where she identified body parts for me in Mosuo. The words for "breast" and "bottom" were the cause of great hilarity so we could only do this kind of activity when there were no men in the room. After a little more Zamba and tea, Gran's four strapping sons showed up for dinner. Gran wears traditional garments, kind of a turban and a long navy blouse and skirt which is twisted and hooked up into her belt so that it doesn't hang too low. One of her sons had a big fur hat, interestingly decorated, but another looked the modern businessman in a navy suit and with manicured hands. They taught me a few more words and laughed at me saying that I liked the cat. They invited me to have spring festival with them. They are a noisy jovial lot and soon the loud animated discussions reverberated off the beams. Then we went back across the road to the cold living room to sit in front of the boring tv (I hate the damn things). By 10 I was ready for bed just so I could get warm and got my hot water bottle and went to bed.

I've been waking up every morning at 8 when the light comes through my window, and it is getting colder. The taps and puddles in the garden are completely frozen in the morning now, though the blue sky and sunshine tricks you into thinking it's really quite warm. There is warm water in the flasks to wash your face, feet etc, which is nice, but the air is really cold. By late morning it thaws and then the afternoon sun is really pleasant and I sit outside and get a tan on my face.

Lulu: In answer to your question, I do write this blog basically for family and friends, but you're very welcome to read it and I'm glad you enjoy it.

Snot (Emma): good to hear from you- send me an email about how you're going. What is happening with your job? take care