-^-for posterity-^-

latin american passion and vietnamese humility. the mixture of the two is too difficult to truly comprehend. the mixture of the two can only result in confusion. maybe when i’m old and wise i’ll understand.

a man from venezuela is here doing some agricultural experiments. he doesn’t speak english or vietnamese. i’ve been an outlet for him, someone to chat to. he’s a hermit. he’s trapped in a place where no one understands him and he doesn’t understand anyone. what an experience that must be.

he came to my room the other day and asked if i could help him buy a chicken. one of his experiments deals with two varieties of chickens. one is a local, skinny bird and the other is a plumper bird imported from china. he asked if i could help him find one of the imported birds, a young one, alive. one of his birds had flown away. it was tired of being in a cage and longed to explore. i naively nodded my head and the next morning we were off.

we went from one market to another. i asked and translated and there were no young birds. there were no birds from china. i asked how old the chickens were. no one knew the answer. they lay on the ground, their feet bound with colorful plastic. they didn’t move and their eyes were fixed on nothing. chickens normally look stupid. these looked forlorn and stupid. they would tell me they were a year old. i told them i wanted a young chicken. they would tell me they were three months old. i said i wanted one that was about six weeks old. they said they had one especially for me sitting here, hidden from the rest. i showed it to my venezuelan friend and he shook his head. it was the same as the rest.

we chatted about changing the world. there’s so much poverty and what not, it’s quite frustrating. seeing what he does depresses me. he’s actually helping people. he’s trying to make farms more efficient. he’s making poor people’s bellies full. i’m only teaching the language of the day which i’m lucky enough to know. i offer no other expertise. i was depressed.

finally, at the last market we went to, after being told that every chicken we were looking at was six weeks old, my friend found one at the bottom of a large pile. he held it up and smiled. we bought it for a dollar and had to convince the sellers not to kill it. we wanted it for an experiment. he decided to name it mercedes because it was so expensive. i laughed for a number of reasons.

we came home and put it with the rest of the chickens. he weighed it, tagged it and fed it. that chicken had no idea how lucky it was. it avoided the executioner’s block for at least a month. well, that’s assuming that a chicken’s life is worth living. i believe that if more chickens had means of committing suicide, they would. if any were self-actualized, they would surely take their lives.

his feed mixtures will help farmers grow chickens more easily and efficiently. he’s doing wonderful work. at least i could help in part.