From cluckin to cookin in 30 minutes

Well, once again the traditionally gifting of the chicken was done with the expectation that I take it home to America and slaughter it for my family.  The chicken last year has been a real thorn in my side (if you've read previous posts) and wakes me frequently at 3:30 am.  I have no intention of having 2 chickens when I come back next time.  I tell Ruth we are eating the chicken for lunch.  For those of you a bit squeamish, consider not looking at the photos.

Ruth comes up the walk with something moving in the basket.

A chicken to take home to add to your collection.  Yeah, I don't think so!  Going through customs at London, Rome, Madrid, and Miami on the way home.  What's the chance of sneaking this through?

Beat this Foster Farms.  30 minutes to the frying pan.

Three very satisfied health care workers during lunch.   I'm the white/sunburned guy in the middle.

Side note:  The first time I came to Ukuu, Mama, who only has seen Muzungos on TV, was concerned last time that my skin color was changing.  I was very white when first arriving but had tanned during the stay.  She was concerned I was browning.  :-)