I wish I could tell you that the end was swift but beheadings seldom go as planned. To say that his last minutes were spent in quiet reflection on a life well lived would be misleading. But I am comforted by the fact that in his last moments his closest friends were by his side, looking on with a high degree of concern, if not for him than for their own future. This may sound strange but my greatest worry on that crisp October afternoon was not for him but rather for his friends. I saw in them kindred spirits who, like all of us, are merely searching for answers to life’s biggest questions.

Does God exists? What is the meaning of life? Why do I have to take calculus if I will never use it in real life? Do chickens cry? I don’t claim to have the answer to all of these questions but if you are like me and have wrestled for years to find answers I can tell you now, chickens do cry.

Since that fateful day I have had the chance to think back to the events that led to the delicious chicken curry. Once again questions arose as they often do. Should I have swung the axe harder? What is the difference between a rooster and a chicken? Why can I no longer approach the pen without causing a disturbance? When are we having chicken curry again?

But let us go back to when it all began.

While we were in Buenos Aires at Dakar Motos, we meet quite a few motorcycle enthusiasts. Among them were Ken and Carol, a couple from Australia who have spent years traveling on their motorcycle around the world. They have met some fascinating people during their travels among which are John and Annette, a British couple who also traveled around the world by motorcycle a few years ago and decided to settle in Argentina and bought a farm in the town of San Rafael. Introductions were made and a few weeks later we arrived at John and Annette’s farm were we continue to enjoy good company and learn about farming. Our days are spent helping out on the farm during the day and spending our evenings talking about everything under the sun, playing cards, planning our route to Ushuaia and generally having a good time. Since we arrived, we have learned how to drive a tractor, how to irrigate the land (not as easy as it may seem) and of course we’ve spent some time with the animals on the farm…

Which brings us back to the rooster. You see, the plan was simple. I was to take an axe and, while Marie held down the chronologically challenged rooster, I would extract revenge (oops, I meant to say “ease his transition into the other world”). In order to ensure that the procedure went well we were even shown a short video of a previous attempt at killing another rooster. On that occasion things went wrong. Horribly wrong. So armed with an axe and a clear example of what not to do we set about the task at hand. Marie was somewhat hesitant to assist in the “procedure” so Annette stepped in.

I would rather not go into details about what happened next but suffice to say that the second swing of the axe did the trick.

If this true story was as difficult for you to read as it was for me to write, please join me in a moment of silence for our nameless champion of sleepless nights…

RIP
2008-2008
THE rooster