(08/21/23)
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Junglepixiebelize - Recollections of a Gringa Pioneer
Nancy R Koerner - Copyright@2023 - All Rights Reserved
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
"Your Half of the Chickens"
Having brought you a number of “stoopid” gringo stories through the years, I recently thought of another “oldie, but goody.” In this case, I can’t say that this was a friend of mine, or that I actually “knew” the players, so I guess I’d have to call it a Belizean “cautionary tale.”
A Belizean and a gringo decide to go into the chicken business. They are going to raise pullets for meat. It will be a 50-50 proposition. The gringo will put out the investment money, and the Belizean will be doing the labour. They buy all the building materials from Spanish Lookout: chain link fencing, posts, perches, roofing, waterers, medicines, and feed. Then they purchase about 10 dozen baby chicks. The two partners work hard for a week or ten days, building a good, solid fowl coop on the Belizean’s property, with a big enclosed chicken run. The gringo goes back to the States, and it’s the Belizean’s responsibility to care for the birds on a daily basis – to feed, water, and keep them safe. When the pullets are ready to go to market, the gringo will return, and partners will split the money. |
Three months later, the Belizean guy picks up his gringo friend at the airport.
“I got some bad news for you, mehn. We had a tiger cat (ocelet) get over the fence, an he done kill wa lotta chikens. Bout half.
“Oh, that’s terrible,” the gringo groans. “That’s gonna kill our profit margin.”
“I got some bad news for you, mehn. We had a tiger cat (ocelet) get over the fence, an he done kill wa lotta chikens. Bout half.
“Oh, that’s terrible,” the gringo groans. “That’s gonna kill our profit margin.”
Arriving at the Belizean’s little ranchito, they plan to crate-up the surviving chickens in the morning, load them onto the truck, and head off to market in San Ig. When they arrive and set up a stall, the Belizean man expresses remorse for their losses. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you just leave the selling up to me?” he says, smiling. “I’ll do it. Take your time, and walk around the market for a while. Then maybe bring us back a couple of Belikens?” The gringo is grateful. An hour later, he returns, and sees the Belizean selling the very last of the chickens. The Belizean is folding the wad of money and putting it in his pocket, just as the gringo walks up and hands him a beer.
“Wow. That was fast. So, how much did we get?” “Doesn’t matter,” the Belizean says, matter-of-factly. “Your half of the chickens died.” |