Sandra

“Tonight, we eat fufu and Sandra,” my brother said as I came home from class on Monday.

While we were learning Dagbani in the afternoon, my brother was skinning, cleaning and cooking the cat that lived in our compound.

The Sandra story started the day we got to Masse. One of the first things my brother told me was that he was going to kill and eat his cat, named after his ex-girlfriend, Sandra. The thing with Sandra the cat is that she is actually a male, but that doesn't really matter. At first, he kept saying he was going to do it “tomorrow”, but the “tomorrows” turned into a few days and I started to think he was wasn't really going to do it.

There was little talk about Sandra for about a week. Some of the other volunteers wanted to join the Sandra feast, and others wanted to rescue her. A few days ago, he said he will be moving back to Accra soon and that we will “enjoy” Sandra before then. So on Monday as I was eating lunch, he calls me outside, “Jeff Jeff, come here. We kill Sandra now!”

I go outside to see him holding a big bag with Sandra freaking out in it. It was something like a rice bag or one of those bags they put snakes in. Apparently he caught her, put her front legs behind her head and threw her in without getting bit. Since domestic animals are very scared of people, he said you can't use a knife to slaughter cats because they'll bite you.

We go out behind the compound, and my host-father and I watch as my brother proceeded to pick up this big rock and threw it on the bag. He missed a few times and it took a few hits, so it seemed to be a pretty sloppy job. My host-father seemed to disapprove, and although he doesn't eat cats, he said it's better to find their head to hit so you don't spoil the meat, or whip the bag against a wall.

I left to go back to school for the afternoon and had two bites of Sandra when I got home. I'm not quite sure how to describe it. It was a thigh piece, dark meat and tender, but there was too much seasoning to really taste it.

But eating cats is a strange practice here. Some local friends and other volunteers' families said that most people won't eat their dogs and cats, but it does happen. They've made fun of my brother for doing it, and made sure to caution me that if you eat the head, you'll start meowing.

My brother says Sandra's head is in his freezer, but I'm not sure if I believe him. He says a lot of strange things, like how he can't wait to kill and eat a cat, or how he desperately wants to marry any white girl, as long as she isn't Russian. I'll let you know if anything becomes of Sandra, but I hope not.