Don't Count Your Chickens

Everyone knows the saying “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” In Cape Verde people take the proverb to the next level. The common phrase here is simply, “Don’t count your animals.” Why not count them? So that maybe you won’t notice when a few are picked off by the neighbor’s cat or drop dead in the field and never make their way home. Not exactly an optimistic approach, but valid nonetheless.

This side of the Atlantic, I’ve been busy grieving a couple of unhatched chickens, or dead goats, depending on your worldview. The Forest Day community forums and Women’s Day Commemoration were both cancelled this month at the very last minute. Along with co-workers and representatives at partner organizations, I had put a lot of effort into organizing these events. I felt excited about the festivities, employment training, and empowerment that they could potentially bring to members of my community. So, I’m disappointed. But we’re going to try to give them another shot later on. (insert reluctant smile)

On a happier note, yesterday I accompanied a group of screaming preschoolers on a fieldtrip to a ribiera so that they could see water flowing down the mountain. (They’re unaccustomed to seeing bodies of water since we don’t have any lakes, rivers, creeks, etc. in our zone.) The site in the ribiera chosen for our picnic was next to a shallow pool of water dripping from a irrigation tank. Within minutes of our arrival, I was surrounded by 23 naked four-year-olds. The kiddos saw the water and without any prompting or signal of permission, they all stripped down. The adults couldn’t have stopped them if we’d tried. Giggling, splashing chaos ensued.

A final bit of news: Sonia is currently sitting atop another nest of eggs. It’s day 9 of 21, and there are 17 eggs. Not that I’m counting, though. Promise.