a christmas miracle

26 december 2009

Today, seeing the sun peak through the clouds for the first time in days, I felt inspired. I was going to get out of bed, get out of the house, get out of this funk I've found myself in for the past few days. I put on the wrap dress I'd just picked up this morning at the tailor - only to later discover a few technical difficulties.. for instance when a breeze struck up or when I leaned over too far one way or another - regardless, I put on a foolproof, boy proof playlist, my prescription shades, my sturdy sandals and ventured out into the world of Kinyarwanda and moto taxies.

After penning most of a letter, and being surrounded by a group of children all wanting to know my name, where I was going, what I was doing (ect ect - imagine answering these questions, "what is your name" and "where are you going", for every single child you pass on the street - someone has got to teach these kids some more vocabulary... oh, that's what I'm here for..), I headed home, back to the safety of our little America. Much to my surprise, right out front of our house, on the side of the road, who did I find? None other than Santa himself.

And I don't mean Santa with the big ol'belly and the beard of white.. I mean Santa, my Christmas chicken. The one I'd been gifted the day before only to have him set free - not my doing, I can assure you of that. So guessing that maybe Santa wasn't meant to be someone's Christmas dinner after all, I got it in my mind to catch him and to once again make him a part of our little Peace Corps family.

Let me tell ya, a muzungu standing in the road, starring at a chicken for that long catches the attention of others. Next thing I knew I had a woman standing there, right behind me, watching me watching my chicken. I heard her say "inhoko" (chicken - I'm getting good at picking up on the few key words I know) in a sentence I imagine must have gone something along these lines "What the hell is this white girl doing standing here in the road starring at this chicken for??" Maybe that's what she was wondering, and to answer her question, I replied "ndashaka inhoko" (I want chicken). Then, being as bold as I am, I informed her "yitwa Santa" (his name is Santa). She went on to rattle off some more fancy things in Kinyarwanda - show off - and i decided that I wasn't about to chase a chicken around in front of a whole slew of people. So feeling slightly defeated but also slightly determined (thinking I could return home and gather up a chicken-catchin' team), I went home.

Later, Maggie, one of my housemates burst into my room. Flustered, she told me I'd better get out there (where?), that there was something I had to see. Thinking it was going to be another creepy baby doll picture from a magazine or something, I wasn't exactly in a rush. She lead me around to the back room where we have our water filters and told me to pull back the curtain covering the window. (Yeah right, I'm thinking. There's going to be one of those 5" long grasshoppers back there, I'm not pulling that curtain back, you gotta be kidding me).. but I do it anyway. With a scream invoked by both fear and surprise, who was it other than once again.. Santa himself, feathers and all.

I was so glad. Santa came home. A Christmas miracle!

I immediately went outside, scooped him up in my arms and took him out front to cuddle for a bit. Everyone was socked by Santa's calm demeanor. What can I say? I have a way with animals.

I set Santa down - gotta stretch those legs - and he wandered a bit in the yard but decided the social scene was more his thing. He flew up and perched himself on the front windowsill where he has been keeping guard of our house for the past 5 hours.

And you know what, I wouldn't be surprised to find Santa still there tomorrow morning.

Santa the Christmas chicken, a Christmas miracle.