That Chicken Got Ate 3 Times

April 8, 1978

A rotisserie chicken arrived on yesterday’s flight, a gift from Janet and Nancy, two single ladies and friends of Matt, who just arrived on the field. It was a real treat for us and we ate it for supper. Later, I took a pan full of bones outside and began throwing them to the dogs who were swallowing them whole. I knew, one was not supposed to give chicken bones to dogs, but hey, they were going to raid the garbage pit later and eat them anyway! Tibaquite came up to me and put his hands on me, one on my back and one on my stomach. He was all smiles, if more gum than teeth count as a smile. He said something I could not understand, but I interpreted it as, “Are you full?” I said, “Ai.” I did not know what that word meant either, but they said it all the time.

His wife Monica joined us, leaned over and smelled the pile of bones still in my pan and said, “Mmm. . . ” I thought that was probably a Yuqui phrase for, “Man, those smell delicious!” She got her husband to smell, too. It sounded like a reenactment of Adam and Eve’s eating the forbidden fruit except that he was first to partake of the bones. He reached into the pan and pulled the “pope’s nose” off the end of the backbone, stuck it in his mouth and covered it with his toothless grin. I could tell he really enjoyed eating that little morsel. I thought we had chewed the meat off the bones sufficiently to render them unfit for further human consumption. Clearly, Tibaquite and Monica believed otherwise!

It made me feel guilty for throwing the bones to the dogs, when our family of Yuqui helpers seemed to want them. I nodded my head and said in my best Spanish, “Si! Si!” and shoved the pan towards them to indicate that they could have the rest. They grabbed it and retreated a short distance away to feast on what we gringos were throwing away. I was afraid they might eat the bones, but was relieved when they just chewed on them a bit and then threw them to the dogs.

It was not that they were starving. During their time with us, we gave them plenty of rice and noodles to feed their family, and they always had some kind of meat on the rack smoking over the fire. It was just that rotisserie chicken bones smelled good even after the meat was removed and not even the fear of gringo germs was going to stop them from enjoying such a treat!

Fin

This story was from the category Tales From Green Hell. If you would like to read more of my experiences in the jungles of Bolivia, please click on that link below.

More Writings by Phil

Post photo by: Image by pixel1 from Pixabay

Writings By Phil