"Rebekah, it's time to kill the chicken!"

Yesterday as I was resting up from this Malaria spell, reading an ever so interesting read of 'Research Methods in Psychology' (required reading for a University class) I heard Josephine, (a woman who works at the little hotel Brittany and I stay in), call out to me, "Rebekah, it's time to kill the chicken!"

I got myself off the bed and prepared to prepare the evenings meal. This meal was for a family, including the extended family members, who would be returning home from the official ending of the four day funeral service. The funeral was held in Gulu for the brother of the man who owned the hotel, Royal Inn, where we stay.

LONG, long... story short: I visited the this family a few days prior to say my condolences as I had befriended the owner and his brother Okedi prior to this event. When I arrived at the large gathering, I had been introduced as 'Okedi's friend' to all of the relatives (at least 50 in number) at the home.

Okedi is from Gulu but has lived in London for the last 20 years. Because he had not been back to Gulu or with his family members for such a long time, his family was under the impression that I was Okedi's wife from London! I did not know this until after I returned home and was informed in the morning! Okedi shared with me the following morning that after I had left his families house that evening, the women of the home approached him and inquired as to why I had arrived and left without preparing food.

In this culture, it is expected that I would prepare a meal for the entire event as a way of introducing myself to the family, if I was indeed the wife of Okedi. This reveals to the family the wifes ability to provide for his husband, both in servitude as well as in cooking abilities. It is extremely radical that a "wife" of a "married" Ugandan man would show up at his parents house for such an event, meet the entire family and leave without preparing food.

After Okedi shared this news with me, the five of us that were sitting together throughout this story were laughing hysterically! As we calmed down, the conversation shifted as one of the elders that was with us at the time suggested that I still prepare a meal for the family. This resulted in me learning to cook an acceptable Acholi meal. Josphine, the all poruse hotel staff member was given money to buy a chicken, vegetables, oil and salt and given instructions to teach me how to properly kill, pluck, cook and serve an Acholi Chicken dinner. This was a lovely adventure!

Unfortunatly my internet time is out and I must go now. I will provide the fun details of this story a little later on. In the meantime, know that I am well, despite Malaria and do not want anyone to be worried. I am in good hands between Brittany and the hotel staff!

Much love to you all!