A Lonely Chicken Farmer

9/23/08



Eager to build upon the momentum established by yesterday’s ground breaking progress, I accepted an invitation from a kind-hearted colleague, Mr. Ndubane, “Nduksi” to join him on a road trip. We would venture nearly 100 km to a farming district to purchase chickens today. Unsure of what to expect, I jumped into his car and sped off down kilometer after kilometer of overflowing holes and bulging bumps on the dirt road, slamming the top of my head into the ceiling of the car. Along the way we stopped at streetside vendors who were hawking fruits and veggies just harvested from the backdrop of lush farm fields rich in vibrant green color. These vivid shades of green offer a harsh contrast to the blend of brown hues spread out across the village in which I live. Spring hasn’t reach the rural areas of Bushbuckridge, as the distant memories of rain have long been forgotten. The land at home is parched, bone dry, and thirsty. Here in this province, irrigated fields supplied graciously by nearby dammed waters boast bold colors of vivacious vegetables and fruits. We stopped for fresh roasted corn over smoldering coals(my new favorite snack!), fresh juice, and tomatoes. These mouth watering treats offered a moment of contentment from the scorching temperatures.

Back on the road we sped past villages one by one until we reached our destination. From nearly 100 meters away I could hear their shrilling voices, crying out in unison! Peep, peep, peep! Unsure of its direction I turned around 360 degrees but could not find the source. Peep, peep, peep! Following my chicken farming friend, we opened a door, behind which stood more than 20 boxes of 100 baby chicks, less than two weeks old. That’s 2,000 chicks twittering, tweeting, squeaking, and cheeping! My heart dropped. Chicks were piled like cheerleaders in a pyramid formation. Some stacked five high. The chicks holding up the pyramid collapsed with legs split apart and faces covered in feces. I knew at that moment that I would offer a lucky life to a handful of chicks. Observing this scene, I was destined to become a chicken farmer.

And so a chicken farmer was born. I purchased the necessary vitamins, medications, food, and even a heating lamp for to keep my new born chicks warm during cool, windy nights. Nduksi generously offered additional supplies such as bedding and other materials to get me started through my first few weeks of chicken farming.

We raced home to unpack the colossal clutch of more than four hundred chicks at Nduksi’s residence from the boot of his hatchback. Two home-made concrete coops are featured in his backyard where two groups of chickens are “farmed.” Every four weeks he purchases a new batch of newborn baby chicks and raises them for 35 days, feeding them special growth formula food, vitamins, and nutrients. By their 35th day anniversary, the fully matured chickens are sold for meat to neighbors and community members at 35 rands a head (probably not the best reference under the circumstances). As the only community chicken farmer, he maintains a sound monopoly, and very rarely does not sell out of his 400 chicken stock by the conclusion of the 35 day cycle.




I had intended to choose two chicks, however was encouraged to choose two more to offer support and comraderie to these social creatures. I enthusiastically watched and observed as three chicks instinctively decided on me as their mother, climbing on my shoe as I cowered in the middle of the coop. The last chick selected was motionless and seemingly limp as I picked it up last from its temporary shelter. Like mother hen, I quickly offered nurturing love and support.