Fire rooster

Hot water dribbled on the body of the red feathered cock in the bowl Nji placed in front of where she sat on a stool in their yard. Not too long ago the cock shuddered lifelessly as she slit its throat in preparation for their Sunday meal. In fistfuls, Nji began plucking feathers from the pores of the chicken’s pale body while Deka, her daughter, peered enthusiastically from behind. As Nji cleaned the chicken her brows stayed furrowed while Deka’s almond-shaped eyes coruscated with each dab Nji took at the chicken’s body.
Nji chuckled to herself. “I remember how I had your pregnancy,” she said, to Deka, as she dipped the chicken in the scalding water to allow stuck feathers wash from its body. “You see, I was not ready that night…but you know how men are, all they know how to do is take, like cocks. Men take lands, they take charge, they’re entitled and then they take women, just like your father.”
“How did he, mama?” Deka asked. She looked on, engrossed.
“I was his new bride, nubile, unencumbered with that manner of intimacy and to be honest I was shy.” Nji paused for a moment to wipe driblets of sweat from her forehead with her arm and then she continued with her brows still furrowed. “Our first night together your father behaved like a cock on heat, he wanted me in haste and so he came on strong. I was unready. I ran to a corner in our bedroom but he followed and took me from where I perched. He embraced me tightly; I squawked and tussled with feeble punches but gave in finally when I felt warm stiffness inside of me. After that, he groaned, guttural, like an animal. It ended quickly, just like chicken mating.”