Las Gallinas De Ingrid La Verdadera Historia! (Ingrids Chickens- The True Story!)

by Ingrid/Voces De Inmigrantes en Resistencia

Para espanol, mira abajo

I am from a farm in the country; the countryside of Guatemala to be exact. My family raised chickens, goats and pigs. We grew corn, tomatoes and fruit, so many kinds of fruit. Without our tiny farm our family would not have been able to eat. Now I live in San Francisco in a tiny one bedroom apartment with my brother in law, sister and nephew. We have no land to grow on and no space for animals to graze

I am a seamstress and domestic worker as well as a reporter for POOR Magazine. I am trying to support my three children back home and my newborn baby boy on very little money. This is hard cause the cost of living is so high in San Francisco.

Recently, I had heard from some friends that there was a real farmers market in San Francisco.

One early Saturday morning, my nephew Jorge and I walked from 22nd and Hampshire in the Mission all the way to the Alemany Farmers Market in search of fresh vegetables. The soles of our feet felt as though they were burning as we walked out in the scorching sun. When we finally arrived it was so crowded that we could barely make our way through the market. The heat was getting stronger, but we managed to make it to the truck where they had live chickens for sale.

There were all sorts of animals for sale at this truck such as small chickens, rabbits, ducks as well as doves. We bought two plump chickens with long, soft, tail feathers and about twenty-five pounds of fruits and vegetables. Since we had bought so many things Jorge and I did not want to walk all the way back home. On top of that I also had my son with me in a stroller. My brother in law had told us to buy all the groceries for the week and that he would meet us half way. That is why we didn�t take the bus.

So we just started our trek back home with the hope that my brother in law would be at the half way point to help us the rest of the way home. On our way back home we saw two bicyclists riding down Potrero Ave. At that point I turned to my nephew and said �that must be your father� and he responded �Thank God! My arms are killing me.�

As the bicyclists got closer we realized that neither one was my bother in law. So, we kept on walking until we got back home. Upon arriving Jorge asked me for a glass of water, the trip had taken quite a toll on him. Without thinking I left the newly bought chickens in the kitchen, on the white and brown linoleum tile floor, to grab my nephew a glass of water. By now the chickens were drenched in sweat because of the heat. Their feathers stuck closely to their bodies making them appear thin.

At that moment my friend, Tiny walked in with her son Tiburcio and all of the sudden the chickens began to shriek as well as flutter and flap their wings at her, which sent her running out the door screaming �My mother is in here.�

She later explained that her mother liked chickens and that is why she thought she was there. She asked me why they shrieked at her and I explained that since their feet were tied up they were unable to walk which is why they were all fussy. Tiny then asked if she could take pictures of the chickens, so I untied them and let them walk. Tiny took a few pictures; her son took a moment to caress the chickens and then they left.

At about 4pm I killed the chickens. I took a broomstick and I placed it on top of the chicken�s head. I then stomped on the broomstick leaving the chickens body in between my leg. I then put pressure on the broomstick and pulled the chicken�s legs at the same time to that its body would detach from its neck. I killed them both like this. I hung them upside down on the doorknob so that all their blood would drain down and out. Once they were drained I placed them in a pot of boiling water, this helps the feathers come off quicker. I then carefully took them out of the boiling water and with my left hand placed one on my thigh; with my right hand I plucked the feathers only using the tips of my fingers. I did this for both of the chickens. After I finished plucking the feathers off of both chickens I took a piece of newspaper, lit it and then used to turn on the stove burner. I then grazed the chickens over the open flame and burned off the little hairs that remained after plucking.

I then opened them up and took out all of its insides. Then I put them into a pot with water and made a delicious caldo de gallina. Freezing the chicken changes the flavor that is why I�d rather walk miles to the farmers market and prepare it fresh.

Gallinas de Ingrid- Una Historia Verdadera Por Indrid X/ Voces De Inmigrantes en Resistencia

Yo me creci in el campo en mi pais de Guatemala. Ahi yo y mi familia teniamos gallinas, cabras, y chanchos. Nosotros creciamos maiz, tomates y frutas, muchisimas frutas. Si nosotros no hubieramos crecido nuestra propia comida nos vieramos hido sin comer. Ahora vivo en las cuidad de San Francisco, en un apartamento con solamente un cuartito pequeno. Comparto ese apartamento con mi hermana, su esposo, y mi sobrino. Aqui no hay espacio para crecer nada.

Trabajo de cocedora, de limpiar casas y cuidar ninos, y tambien como reportera para la Prensa Pobre (POOR Magazine). Es bien dificil hacerce una vida aquí en este pais. Todo es bien caro y lo que gano ni me alcanza para cuidar a mis tres hijos que estan en Guatemala y mi bebe que vive aqui conmigo.

Ultimamente a oido de mis amigas que ay un Mercado de productos frescos en San Francisco.

Un dia sabado las 9 AM, mi sobrino Jorge y yo caminamos desde la calle 22 y Hampshire en la Mission para la Alemany Farmers Market en busca de pollos vivos y verduras frescas. El sol estava tan caliente que nos quemaba las plantas de los piez. Al llegar habia mucha gente y no se podia caminar. Se sentia mas calor pero logramos asercarnos al camion de los pollos.

Habian pollitos pequenos, conejos, patos y palomas. Tambien tenian huevos fresco que los habian puesto las gallinas. Compramos dos pollas coloradas con cola larga y plumas suaves, se miraban gordas y como 25 libras de verduras y frutas. Jorge y yo no queriamos caminar por que habiamos comprado muchas cosas. Mi cuñado nos dijo que compraramos todo lo necesario para la semana y que el nos hiba a encontrar a medio camino. Fue por eso que no tomamos el autobus, ademas que yo llebaba a mi hijo en su carito.

Jorge y yo empesamos a caminar felizes pensando que mi cu~ado venia a nuestro rescate. Cuando llegamos a la calle Potrero, hiban unos bicicletistas. Yo le dije a Jorge “alli viene tu papa” y el me contesto “ay! Gracias dios mio por que ya no aguanto”. Mientras se acercaba nos dimos cuenta que no era el. A pues seguimos caminando hasta llegar a la casa. Jorge me dijo “tia quiero agua estoy cansado”. Sin pensar en ese momento yo deje las gallinas en la cosina. Pero ya no paresian las mismas gallinas que habia comprado. Ahora las gallinas estaban tan sudadas que las plumas se les pegaban a su cuerpo dando la impresion de que estaban flaquitas. Justo en el momento en que deje las gallinas en el piso de linolio de cuadros café y blanco entro mi amiga Tiny. Las aletearon y gritaron. Tiny salio corriendo de la cosina al pasillo y imploro “Mi madre esta aqui” “Ami mama le gustaban las gallinas por eso pense que estaba aqui” Ella me pregunto que por que gritaban? Yo le conteste que era por que estaban amarradoas de las patas y no podian caminar. Tiny me dijo que queria fotos de las gallinas. Entonces yo desate una gallina para que caminara y Tiny me tomo unas fotos con las gallinas. Su hijo Tibursio acaricio las gallinas y despues se fueron. Yo me quede a limpiar la casa.

Como las 4pm las mate. Primero le quite el palo a la escoba, puse la cabeza de la gallina en el piso y le puse el palo ensima de la cabeza y me pare en el palo dejando a la gallina enmedio de mis piernas. Le puse precion a mis piernas y jale las patas para que el pescueso de la gallina se despegara del resto del cuerpo. Asi mate a las dos igual. Las colge de la chapa de la puerta para que la sangre se escurriera. Las cabezas de las gallinas se fueron inflando con la sangre de sus cuerpos. Antes de matarlas gallinas puse a herbir una holla con agua. Antes de matarlas gallinas puse a herbir una holla con agua. Despues de 15 minutos el agua hirbio y las meti en el agua que bombiaba como si quisiera salirse de la hoya. Esto ayuda a quitarles las plumas. Las saque quidadosamente para que esa agua no me quemara. Tome una gallina con mi mano esquierda y la apolle sobre mi pierna mientras que con mi mano derecha le quitaba las plumas con una facilidad que solo necesitaba usar la punta de mis dedos. Lo mismo hise con la otra gallina. Despues que las pele agarre un periodico y le prendi fuego. Lo meti en una oya y pase las gallinas sobre la llama para quemarles unos pelitos que se les quedan despues de desplumarlas.

Las abri para sacarles lo de adentro y separe el cuerpo. Luego puse una holla con agua para aser un delisioso caldo de gallina. Las gallinas conjeladas cambian el sabor, es por eso que prefiero caminar y comer todo fresco. Pero tambien me gustan las gallinas que benden ya preparadas