A taste of culture shock

I'm constantly amazed by all the little differences between the U.S. and Benin. For example, in America our roosters say "cock-a-doodle-doo!" to the rising sun as a signal for all to begin a new day, probably as a majestic looking silhouette atop a white picket fence. In Benin however, the roosters will actually sneak up to right outside your window and start screaming bloody murder at 4:45 in the freaking morning and will continue sporadically throughout the day. Its facinating, just facinating.

So this previous Sunday, my host mom came to check on me while I was eating, as she usually does. In Benin, guests eat before everyone else, and they eat alone. Most of my meals have been served in this fashion, although since I keep asking when everyone else eats, the father has begun to eat dinner with me. I am beginning to regret my decision since the only conversation between us is actually him just giggling at me between handfuls of food. Anyway, as I was eating my lunch on Sunday, the mom came to me and told me to prepare an American meal for dinner that evening. They had invited her sister and nephew over, and were going to show off having an actual white person, nay, an AMERICAN staying with them by having said American prepare an American meal. Since the ingredients one can find at the market are pretty limited to a few vegetables, live seafood, and live chicken, I racked my brain trying to figure out something I could cook for 5 people that I wouldn't likely mess up in a Beninese kitchen (a room with stools, cutlery, and a kerosene stove). I thought chicken fajitas would do the trick. The guacamole would be easy. There are plenty of tomatoes, onions, and garlic. The avocados are a little bit bigger than a softball. My plan was to caramelize some onions, mix in some peppers and chicken strips, top it off with some guacamole, use some laughing cow cheese. And for tortilla I could just use the loaves of french bread that are sold on every street corner and smash them down a bit. It would work...I found everything at the market and the stuff I didn't, my host brother told me we already had at the house, including garlic and chicken. Later that day, when I started cooking, I asked the mom where the chicken was for me to start cutting up. Turns out the chicken are kept on the side yard (coincidentally, about 4 feet away from my window). There was a rooster and a hen running out in the open. The mom told me to pick one for dinner, and you can bet on which one I chose. 

The rooster was delicious. The fajitas turned out great, and the guacamole was probably the best I've ever made. The guests and family seemed to like it, although I'm not sure if they were just being sensitive to my feelings. Either way, I'm not losing any sleep over it.