Once whilst in Malawi, Africa, I visited a local food market and my new friends chose a chicken to buy. We drove 15 miles back home with it in the back of the car, privately promising myself that I wouldn’t give it a name. As soon as we entered the shack, we slit its neck, drained the blood, plucked it, cooked it and enjoyed a delicious and hearty meal celebrating us simply being together. We ate the entire chicken, including the feet, and left only the beak….
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