By John McCallum
Editor
I think I have found the answer to the greatest question of the meaning of life, the universe and everything. And it's something very real.
No it's not a number. Numbers aren't real things. Numbers describe something else. You can't go pick up and hold 42, but you can pick up and hold, say, 42 marbles, or 42 Wheat Thins, if you feel so inclined.
Nope, the secret is more concrete, down to earth, solid and real. The secret is, drum roll please – chicken.
Yes, chicken. I know that sounds weird, preposterous but hear me out.
I came to this realization about chicken while in Guatemala a couple weeks ago. Our mission was to work with the K'ekchi of the Polochic Presbytery that encompasses a region of the Alta Vera Mountains and Polochic River valley northeast of Guatemala City. It's deep in country and difficult to get to, and so remote that in some cases the villages are seldom visited even by other Guatemalans.
The K'ekchi are one of over 20 indigenous Mayan peoples. They are marginalized within their society. They have no money, no land and no power.
But they are a very friendly people with a deep sense of community. They are very willing to share what little they have, and one of those things they have – besides possibly the best tortillas in the world – is chicken.
Wherever we went, whatever we did, the local K'ekchi wanted to serve us lunch consisting usually of fried chicken or chicken soup. And by chicken soup I don't mean those little chunks of white meat floating around in a golden Campbell's broth. I mean a bowl with vegetables and an anatomically correct cooked part of the chicken – bone and all – sticking out of the mix.
Don't get me wrong; it's excellent, deliciously prepared chicken. Whatever their spice recipe is, if such were reason for going to war Colonel Sanders would have had our military in Guatemala years ago.
Chickens are everywhere in backcountry Guatemala. In backyards, front yards, roaming city streets, stuffed into open crates at the market and in homes. You wake up to roosters crowing in the cities.
Sitting in the front row during a church service, I happened to look down and there on the dirt floor, leashed up to the base of the front platform was someone's chicken!
I had chicken everyday, seven days straight and yes, twice on Sunday. I could have made it nine, but fortunately in our last two days we played tourist a bit and ate out. I deliberately ordered beef (although having sampled that, I should have ordered chicken).
I thought I would escape this cycle upon leaving the country July 28. I kept thinking of the foods I would eat once back in the States, at least for a day or two and then back to eating healthy. A Dick's Whammy kept coming to mind.
Back on home soil with a four-hour layover at LAX, I went in search of lunch. The only thing appealing was McDonald's. Looking at the menu got me into carb mode and calorie counting.
Big Mac meal: 750 calories – yikes! Double quarter-pounder with cheese meal: 980 calories! I wanted to be somewhat healthy, so what did I order?
A chicken club!
It goes on. My first meal at home upon returning: Kung Pao chicken! I barbecued a couple times last week – chicken was all that was in the refrigerator.
My girlfriends' son Ricky spent Saturday with me. We had fun, built a model of the PT109 I got him for Christmas and then watched the 1963 movie of the same name that night.
We ordered pizza and a side of – wait for it – buffalo wings! Everyone knows buffalo's can't fly – it's really just small pieces of chicken in hot sauce!
With chicken all around it's forced me to the realization that somehow it must all tie together. Chicken must mean something, must be a key element to life, the universe, everything.
Chicken has a soothing, neutral quality. Why else would we describe to someone a food unfamiliar to them as “tastes like chicken?” It puts them at ease with regards to flavoring.
Chicken signifies good fortune. Ever pulled a wishbone?
Chicken signifies a healthy outlook. Chicken soup for the soul anyone?
I think the K'ekchi Maya must have figured this out. Yes it is easier and more affordable for them to raise chickens – they also get eggs – but isn't ease and affordability what many of us want out of life too?
Bawk!
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