I finally finished transcribing my fieldnotes today from the two workshops we completed last month. Among the everyday descriptions of workshop activities, I found a story that I had written down that Mrs. Gambushe related to me during our second week.
While we were away in Mpumalanga, her husband brought home a dead eagle as an intermediary for the man who had procured the eagle and the sangoma (Zulu faith healer) for whom it was intended. He placed the paper-wrapped eagle in the refrigerator in the house to keep until he knew the sangoma would be home. The young woman staying with them (she's a refugee from Zimbabwe and has been working on our sewing project at the centre) saw the package in the refrigerator and plucked and cleaned the bird without asking anyone, as she prepared the meals in the house and was just trying to be helpful. She thought it was a type of chicken or other bird that was meant for eating. Mrs. G's husband was so angry that she had cooked the eagle. Fortunately, after a few days the situation blew over when the two others involved agreed not to hold Mr. G responsible for the cost of the eagle. I don't know if anyone actually tasted the eagle.
Well that's too bad if no one ate it. It probably would have been pretty tough and gamy, but it would've been worth a taste... I mean, as long as it's cooked already, y'know? Why not?
Posted by: Mark | April 12, 2008 at 03:50 PM