Shat on by a Chicken in a Mango Tree

This week I was shat on by a chicken in a mango tree.

That's an entertaining enough blog as it is if you ask me, but I need to elaborate because, correct me if I'm wrong, but I imagine that none of you have ever been shat on by a chicken – especially not from such an altitude as a mango tree.  I've decided you should all be allowed to picture it exactly, so that you can really share in this experience of mine.  You can thank me for that later.

I've mentioned before that the chickens in my host family's yard like to climb the ladder of the mango tree to chill up there all evening/night. So the other night, while unsuspectingly walking back from the latrine, I was struck by what felt like a falling baggie of water – which would not be entirely surprising, considering sometimes they have water fights here with baggies of water en vez de (instead of) balloons.  To my dismay however, it was not one of the local kids hanging out in the tree wanting to play a game. 

I unfortunately reacted to the warm, yet cold; wet, yet solid, assault on my hair/face/arm/shirt/pride, audibly enough for my host sister who was filling her water bucket to notice what had happened.  As soon as she saw my look of pure shock and confusion, she hurried to my side.  Within seconds we were both laughing so hard, that my host nephew, brother, and other sister came out to see what was going on.  Once I got into the light, we could see the brownish liquid running down my hairline, forehead, glasses, and shoulder.  Oh it was sexy.  As if that wasn't bad enough, the shall we say “solid portion” of poo landed nicely on the shirt I was planning to wear to the fireworks that night. 

Had this been during my first month or so with the family, I know they would have been appalled and apologetic and worried about my reaction to such a thing, but since I lived with them for my three months of training, and I'm completely a part of the family now, they felt no shame in flat out laughing at my misfortune while helping me clean up. Hahaha I can't even write about it now without literally laughing out loud. Ohhh mannn....that WOULD happen to me.  It was like the 8^th grade trip all over again – only slightly less traumatizing because I didn't have the whole bus load of field trippers trying to take pictures of the seagull poop in my hair this time.

In other news...with my breakfast the next morning, I drank milk straight from the cow in the backyard.  My host sister warmed it up, flavored it with a little coffee and sugar, and it was actually super delicious!