12th of May - Have Chicken
About 9 years ago, on the 12th of May 1999, among the Himalayan mountains, I slaughtered, or rather, slitted the throat of a chicken. That was the first time I had blood on my hands, not counting the many times before that, that I had pressed ants and squashed cockroaches at home.
We were at our Sec 4 camp in Nepal and had just completed part of our trek to Poon Hill. That day, some of the PTWs were walking very fast and leading the pack while the rest were lagging behind in order to better appreciate the amazing scenery, which isn't all that amazing yet because we were still not in sight of the snow-capped mountains. I was part of the let's-walk-slowly-and-make-our-money-worth group walking slowly behind everybody. For some reason, the let's-walk-faster-and-reach-the-hostel-first group got a bit buay song with us that day and as insignificant as the incident was, I still remember it and thought it was worthy of a mention even though it has nothing to do with my killing of the chicken later that evening.
That evening, we were resting under some shed at our hostel waiting for our rooms to be prepared, some people playing cards while others stoning, when someone announced to the group that he needed two volunteers to kill two chickens for our dinner that night. Giap and I volunteered. I can't remember exactly anymore why I had raised my hand. On hindsight, it was probably because of the soldier-blood running through my veins - I was in NCC then you see - and that 'being volunteery' is much of a celebrated 'virtue' in NCC. We were well trained by our sergeants to shoot up our hands whenever they asked for volunteers, and those who understood that nothing much good comes from volunteering in NCC would simply shoot up their hands at a slower speed. I belong to the group whose hands go up rather fast, even though I must admit I'm well behind Weizhan on this aspect.
We were given a short lesson on killing chickens by our tour guide - or was it some Nepalese villager? - before we proceeded with the kill. According to the person who explained to us the art of killing chickens, the trick was to carry the chicken in our arms the way we would carry a baby, stroke the chicken on the back of its neck until it begins to fall asleep and relaxes its neck muscle, before applying the knife. I know in ODAC, the way to kill a chicken was to grip the chicken by its neck, turn the head in a full circle before giving it a swift pull to the ground so that the head pops off and then, enjoy the sight of a headless chicken making its last glorious run in circles before passing away. That would lead to a swifter death for the chicken and is probably the more humane way of killing of the 2 methods that I had described. But the Americans have yet to spread the idea of animal rights on the Himalayan mountains and the Nepalese villages have their own means of getting their meat - and blood.
I was slightly nervous and yet, excited as I stroked the chicken's neck. I knew it was 'not good' to kill a being, having been brought up in a Buddhist family where it is not even encouraged to order crabs at coffee shops because doing that would mean ordering someone else to kill the crabs and having to apply the finishing act of killing myself is surely a bigger sin, if there was a measure for sin, than ordering someone else to kill. But I could sort of justify my action that evening by the thought that someone would need to kill the chickens else we would have no dinner, so why not I be the person to do it. After all, it was said that Buddha once said: "I don't go to Hell, who go?". I was thinking that Buddha would understand.
And so, I slitted the throat of what was to be part of our chicken curry dinner that night, and my victim bled to its slow death as memories of its short life flashed across its little brain one last time. While beside me, the clumsy as ever Giap was having difficulties making any sort of significant damages to his chicken, laying the blame firmly on the blunt knife he was given as the audience who had gathered around to watch our killings began to boo him. His chicken, despite the clumsiness of its executioner, was also to end up as part of our dinner. There is simply no escape for any animals when a man decides to have his dinner.
After that fateful day, I decided to make the 12th of May my 'No Chicken Day' in memory of the Nepalese chicken who died in my hands that day. And hopefully, to dilute my sin. For the 8 years after that, I never had chicken for my meals on the 12th of May, not that I avoided them deliberately every year on that day. There were some years on the 12th of May that I forgot it was 'No Chicken Day'. I would perhaps, only remember on the 13th that the day before I was not supposed to have chicken and then after running through my memory, be relieved that I really had no chicken that day.
But 3 days ago, 12th of May 2008, I had chicken. I ate leftover chicken rice that I had prepared the day before for dinner and I ate them knowing very well that it was the 12th of May.
I have decided to change the 12th of May from 'No Chicken Day' to 'Must Have Chicken Day'. Running away and avoiding chickens is not a good way to remember the chicken I had killed. Before I tugged into my plate of chicken rice, I observed a minute of silence and renewed my allegiance to chickens. The chicken rice really evoked memories of the chicken I had killed because the chicken meat was as tough - and disrespectful as it is, not delicious - as the one I had in Nepal. I had not defrosted the chicken before cooking and had also overcooked it.
I was given the idea to make the 12th of May 'Must Have Chicken Day' because I was thinking that after I passed away, I wouldn't want you guys to avoid my grave on my death anniversary. I wouldn't want you guys to say that, 'oh, it's chye's death anniversary. let's try to remember him by not thinking of him.' Moreover, I believe I would need someone to wipe away the dust that would have accumulated on the grave.
And hence, have chicken.
(Sidenote: For tender chicken meat, cook your chicken in boiling water for 10 minutes and then leave it in hot but not boiling water for another 10 minutes. For really tender chicken, submerge the chicken in ice water after cooking as suggested by Prima Taste.)
We were at our Sec 4 camp in Nepal and had just completed part of our trek to Poon Hill. That day, some of the PTWs were walking very fast and leading the pack while the rest were lagging behind in order to better appreciate the amazing scenery, which isn't all that amazing yet because we were still not in sight of the snow-capped mountains. I was part of the let's-walk-slowly-and-make-our-money-worth group walking slowly behind everybody. For some reason, the let's-walk-faster-and-reach-the-hostel-first group got a bit buay song with us that day and as insignificant as the incident was, I still remember it and thought it was worthy of a mention even though it has nothing to do with my killing of the chicken later that evening.
That evening, we were resting under some shed at our hostel waiting for our rooms to be prepared, some people playing cards while others stoning, when someone announced to the group that he needed two volunteers to kill two chickens for our dinner that night. Giap and I volunteered. I can't remember exactly anymore why I had raised my hand. On hindsight, it was probably because of the soldier-blood running through my veins - I was in NCC then you see - and that 'being volunteery' is much of a celebrated 'virtue' in NCC. We were well trained by our sergeants to shoot up our hands whenever they asked for volunteers, and those who understood that nothing much good comes from volunteering in NCC would simply shoot up their hands at a slower speed. I belong to the group whose hands go up rather fast, even though I must admit I'm well behind Weizhan on this aspect.
We were given a short lesson on killing chickens by our tour guide - or was it some Nepalese villager? - before we proceeded with the kill. According to the person who explained to us the art of killing chickens, the trick was to carry the chicken in our arms the way we would carry a baby, stroke the chicken on the back of its neck until it begins to fall asleep and relaxes its neck muscle, before applying the knife. I know in ODAC, the way to kill a chicken was to grip the chicken by its neck, turn the head in a full circle before giving it a swift pull to the ground so that the head pops off and then, enjoy the sight of a headless chicken making its last glorious run in circles before passing away. That would lead to a swifter death for the chicken and is probably the more humane way of killing of the 2 methods that I had described. But the Americans have yet to spread the idea of animal rights on the Himalayan mountains and the Nepalese villages have their own means of getting their meat - and blood.
I was slightly nervous and yet, excited as I stroked the chicken's neck. I knew it was 'not good' to kill a being, having been brought up in a Buddhist family where it is not even encouraged to order crabs at coffee shops because doing that would mean ordering someone else to kill the crabs and having to apply the finishing act of killing myself is surely a bigger sin, if there was a measure for sin, than ordering someone else to kill. But I could sort of justify my action that evening by the thought that someone would need to kill the chickens else we would have no dinner, so why not I be the person to do it. After all, it was said that Buddha once said: "I don't go to Hell, who go?". I was thinking that Buddha would understand.
And so, I slitted the throat of what was to be part of our chicken curry dinner that night, and my victim bled to its slow death as memories of its short life flashed across its little brain one last time. While beside me, the clumsy as ever Giap was having difficulties making any sort of significant damages to his chicken, laying the blame firmly on the blunt knife he was given as the audience who had gathered around to watch our killings began to boo him. His chicken, despite the clumsiness of its executioner, was also to end up as part of our dinner. There is simply no escape for any animals when a man decides to have his dinner.
After that fateful day, I decided to make the 12th of May my 'No Chicken Day' in memory of the Nepalese chicken who died in my hands that day. And hopefully, to dilute my sin. For the 8 years after that, I never had chicken for my meals on the 12th of May, not that I avoided them deliberately every year on that day. There were some years on the 12th of May that I forgot it was 'No Chicken Day'. I would perhaps, only remember on the 13th that the day before I was not supposed to have chicken and then after running through my memory, be relieved that I really had no chicken that day.
But 3 days ago, 12th of May 2008, I had chicken. I ate leftover chicken rice that I had prepared the day before for dinner and I ate them knowing very well that it was the 12th of May.
I have decided to change the 12th of May from 'No Chicken Day' to 'Must Have Chicken Day'. Running away and avoiding chickens is not a good way to remember the chicken I had killed. Before I tugged into my plate of chicken rice, I observed a minute of silence and renewed my allegiance to chickens. The chicken rice really evoked memories of the chicken I had killed because the chicken meat was as tough - and disrespectful as it is, not delicious - as the one I had in Nepal. I had not defrosted the chicken before cooking and had also overcooked it.
I was given the idea to make the 12th of May 'Must Have Chicken Day' because I was thinking that after I passed away, I wouldn't want you guys to avoid my grave on my death anniversary. I wouldn't want you guys to say that, 'oh, it's chye's death anniversary. let's try to remember him by not thinking of him.' Moreover, I believe I would need someone to wipe away the dust that would have accumulated on the grave.
And hence, have chicken.
(Sidenote: For tender chicken meat, cook your chicken in boiling water for 10 minutes and then leave it in hot but not boiling water for another 10 minutes. For really tender chicken, submerge the chicken in ice water after cooking as suggested by Prima Taste.)
posted by le chye at
2:23 AM
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