Two weeks ago sunday I set off on what I deemed as a huge favor for the Casa-Nica house. It was some of the most advanced and soon to be under appreciated planning that I had ever taken part in. I was attempting to carry out a personal tradition that I had started the year before I took out for the Peace Corps -2005ish. But this time I wasn't only going to bake the turkey, I was going to raise it. You see to buy a cousin of the butterball already frozen cost between 40 and 60 dollars - I am pretty sure that is pricey even for a bird back in the US. But the combination of them being considered a delicacy and the fact that they aren't raised in large scale makes for the obscene prices. SO, I had a friend who had a friend who knew someone that was selling a live turkey, and due to my close personal connection they were willing to let it go at a bargain price. So my friend took me up to a farm on the side of one of the local volcanoes to meet the grandmother that was selling the turkey. We took a bus, got off at one of the many dirt paths that led off the cobble stone road up to the volcanoe farm and then proceeded to walk about two miles. When we got there the gobbler was tied up waiting. I introduced myself as I went to pet/pick up the turkey and then asked a few questions -how old was he, how much does he weigh, and how much does he cost. The grandmothers answers 1. about a year and a half, --then one of the sons stepped in to answer the second question, he grabbed the turkey out of my hands by the legs held him upside down and said "about 25 pounds" then the grandmother continued "600 Cordobas" It was all quite an amusing experience -for both parties I think. I suspect I am the first American that has ever made it to their farm and it was the first time I had ever entered into bargaining for a live animal. So we haggled, there was no way i was going to pay that much for a bird that according to my estimate might weigh 15 pounds sopping wet! And the price went down by little enough for us to both walk away happy. So we tied the birds feet, and I tucked him under my arm and eventually made it back to a bus that was headed for Masaya.
The day that I got back I put him in the front garden and teathered him to a broken shovel handle. As soon as anyone would come in they would just sit on the edge of the garden and look at him. They are strange birds! They are relatively calm-at least this one. Their heads resemble that of a vulture and they have a moveable horn - I don't know the technical name for it, but it is the peace of skin that sometimes hangs over their noses and sometimes sticks straight up in the air depending on their mood. Strange animals. The first day everyone took a liking to him. He even got a name - Chompi- it comes from the way that you say Turkey in Spanish, in Nicaragua. In almost every other country they say pavo, but here the more common word is Chompipe.
I had a feeling that giving him a name was going to be a problem. You see, if you name your food it is much less likely to be your food. I imagine it has something to do with the emotional connection that gets created. So the first camp that formed in the house were the "He is our pet and we can never eat a pet" camp. Ha, then guess what happened? The first morning happened! Turns out that only male turkeys can gobble, and sweet heavens can they gobble loud. And it just so happens that almost everyone in the house is not a morning person, so when they heard the Chompi's roar at 6 a.m., they got a bit miffed. On day two the bird started receiving death threats and people started giving me cross looks. For a multitude of reasons, but primarily because I get up before the turkey does, I wasn't bothered in the slightest. I tried to explain to the house that they should be greatful for their new organic alarm clock but they didn't seem to register what I was telling them. and thus the second camp of "he is going to be deported or killed now" camp was formed.
I didn't belong to either camp!
So it's Thanks giving day, I have just finished eating my first breakfast, the house is asleep, and every time I look up I see Chompi strechting his legs and eating the corn we put out for him. He won't be going in the oven today - but not because the first camp won, but rather because he is still a bit on the small side and his original owner asked to buy him back. Turns out that she can sell him for about double if she has him come Christmas time.
So this Thanksgiving the Chompipe will not make it to the Casa-Nica dinner table, but the feast will be amazing none the less! I hope all of you guys are having a good time celebrating with family and friends. Hasta pronto!
