Continues...
Why is the chicken still unslaughtered? Aunt doesn't sound all that angry and so I figure this is as good a time as my luck would have it to tell the truth. Bilal Rahim says he won't slaughter our chicken anymore. Call Grandma out back to slaughter it. And so I yell, Grandma! Grandma! Where are you? What's wrong with you shouting like a fishmonger can't you see I'm right here? And so I go to her with the chicken and say, Aunt says you want to slaughter this chicken. What about Bilal Rahim? He's not going to do it for us anymore. Go get a knife from Aunt. And so I run back to the house to go get the knife, holding the chicken tight . You'd better leave the chicken here with me, this poor fella looks half dead already. I got the knife and run back to where Grandma is. And so she says, hold the legs and the wings. And she goes, Bismillah Allahuakhbar and slices the chicken right about the throat. Let it go! I hold on to the chicken a while longer to feel it flaps for the last breath, fighting back for the right to suck in the last air it is ever gonna breathe. Will you let it go! And so I let it go to see it ambles, like a drunken sailor, walking in half circle.
I'm thinking, why do we need Bilal Rahim, or Encik Mat Noor, or Encik Rosek, or the men in the village to slaughter our chicken when Grandma can do as good as all the men in the village? Aunt used to say it's more berkat to have someone as pious as Bilal Rahim to slaughter our chicken, or even better if it is Imam Wan Long if you can catch him at the mosque to slaughter the chicken since he's a pretty busy man what with three wives living in different village and he being quite elderly can only cycle maybe a little faster than a pregnant goat can run. Does it make the chicken taste better, Mommy? Well, it doesn't but it's better that men do it. But Grandma can do it good and she doesn't even flinch. Did you flinch? No, way, Mommy. I'm strong and brave. I know you are, now run along and be sure to come home in time for lunch.
posted by Bergen at
11:57 AM
13 Comments:
Salam En. Bergen....
Ini lebih bagus dari soap kat TV. Tak buat kerja apa lah saya asik baca blog jer...
Yes! Why do we need men if women can do it too …hehe..
Carry on…
I can already imagine your storyline here is resurrected in the Canadian’s “Little Mosque on the Prairie”. Who knows maybe Amaar Rashid, the Prairie’s clean-shaven 30-something newly hired imam who loves tight jeans doesn’t mind doing the slaughtering… hehe..
The moral of the story is not lost, Bergen ... good job! It is a great read on this bitterly cold morning with temperatures in the single digits!
I'm here and I tell you it's really good to be 'ere.
Bact to different kinda blogger, I think, IMHO, I f I may say, I'm a little bit like you. A little bit.
Tuliiiih teruss..
Great going here Bergen...bring it on!
Dear Bergen,
Your Grandma is one tough lady like most of them in her generation.
My dad slaugthtered a duck which refuse to die for three days,walking about drinking and eating with food and drink dripping from the cut throat.
My dad couldnt do it again...not for my Grandma though.
Saying hello to Podgykat above me
She finished the job but nobody eating the cooked duck except her....she said dont waste a good food.
Sir, you after all was able to taste the chicken curry.
Allow me to relate a story about sembelih ayam. My younger bro was posted to Angola several years ago as a peacekeeper with the UN.
He was the only Muslim there and had to sembelih chicken himself.One day he slaughtered a chicken.After half an hour the chicken was still alive.The locals started to gather around.After another half an hour the chicken was still alive so my brother let the locals have it.
Few days later he bought another chicken from the market. few locals gathered when he wanted to sembelih. And they told him:" sir! Cut chicken but no die".
( he managed to slaughter it well.The locals was disappointed that day)
beli jelah ayam kat pasar tu...
..ayam tu lepas sembelih, buat masak apa?
Nicely written sir. Well done..
Tak reti nak sembelih ayam.Takut pulak nanti tak betul sembelihan tu. Even hubby has never slaughtered a chicken in his life before.
sedeynyer baca posting nih..
-tee-
Master Bergen:
THE CHAIRS, THE TABLE AND THE CLOTH WE DINE ON
(my gift to those who are fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers and sisters)
On the chairs, the table and the cloth we dine on,
mama serve a sumptuous meal,
a sumptuous meal made form the hunt that papa kill,
the hunt that papa brought back on heavy old wheels.
On the chairs, the table and the cloth we dine on,
papa carved the luscious veal,
while mama kept our hunger vigil,
so that our little tummies feel no shrill,
till we have the night’s fill.
By the chairs, the table and the cloth we dine on,
papa stood on the site with his pipe lit,
cleaning blood that his hunt has spilled,
and chasing out the winter’s chill,
so that we feel no gritting frill,
after we had our night’s fill.
Round the chairs, the table and the cloth we dine on,
mama walks with a clean white cloth,
cleaning our mouth from filthy froth,
while kissing the sleepy eyes under the brows.
To the chairs, the table and the cloth we dine on,
we haste a bow and a cheery bye,
and wish the leftovers tomorrow they will dry,
that tomorrow again on you we dine,
with the meals mama made so fine,
made from the kills that papa find.
O chairs, table and cloth we dine on,
we trust that tomorrow would also be fine,
there you’ll wait for us to dine,
when we wake after the sun comes to shine.
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