Some People Keep These As Pets?

We did it.

We ate mice. In Dowa on Wednesday, the FHI district coordinator, who introduced me to the Malawian delicacy a few weeks ago, let me know that he had some more in his car if I was finally brave enough to try. I decided that I couldn't leave Malawi without giving it a go at least once.

So after a few hours of being in the field, we finally returned to his car. I went across the street to get a Coke, just in case. Jing went for a head, and I, a leg. But, while Jing's definitely had brain, eyes and skull, I maintain that my leg piece had considerably more fur. Jing's did look more inedible than mine though, I concede.

So we popped the little guys in our mouths and chewed like hell. The taste was like nothing I have ever had before. I guess it could be described as a distant relative of pork, but much, much saltier. Somewhere between chomping through this little guys femur, trying to gather enough saliva to swallow the fur, and trying not to gag, I realized that I don't think I'll ever be a contestant on Fear Factor. Jing and I both had a little trouble actually getting it down, but we did—without the Coke, which was a rule. Using soda to help you swallow? There's just no credibility in that when you're eating mice in rural Malawi—seriously.



The moment of truth.


Crunch.


I ain't never scared.


This is how it's really done.