As usual, I am up early. Natasha has a swollen eye from some sort of infection. Eye drops from her grandma sort the problem out and she soon joins her cousins feeding chicken. Gregory is somewhere in the vast compound learning how to milk goats. After showers and breakfast, grandma is off to the shamba to plant maize with Gregory. The smaller kids are left at home riding bikes and swinging under the strategically placed mango tree. I chat with my father-in-law in the shade of the same tree as we prepare to slaughter a goat in honour of the visit. Despite my rusty skills, I am bestowed the privilege of being the lead goat killer and skinner. In less than one hour, we manage to skin, dismember, roast and boil the former goat. It is a lot of fun for the kids learning the goat’s anatomy. Natasha in her blissful ignorance thinks that the he-goat’s testes are the udder-and no one disputes or volunteers otherwise!. A sudden rainstorm disrupts our barbecue briefly, but we are undeterred. We use the house’s verandah to finalize. The rest of the day is spent around home chatting, receiving visitors and enjoying each other’s company.
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