Chicken Claw Soup

 

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Chicken Claw Soup
  The cook for the hospital became very interested in us new "gringos". She was a shy little poor woman eager to please us. She would have us sit down immediately and wait for her to fix us something to eat. She cooked for the hospital workers only. The families of patients had to provide the food for the patients. Later during our year there, the two year old hospital completed its cafeteria and the dietitian was hired. The diet was then greatly improved.
  That first day at the hospital, we did not know where the kitchen was. When we did find it, no one was there. We expected that people would eat about the times we were used to but it was about 10AM before breakfast happened. Lunch was late 1-2pm and supper was very late. It was 7:30-9:30 pm. The nurses on duty ate when they got off work at 3pm. I couldn't imagine working eight hours without eating. That is what these nurses did.
  We had to close our eyes to the germs we were sure we saw on the plates and spoons and we tried to enjoy our first meal of black beans. It really was not too bad for we had been a whole day without any food. The next meal was water which was called soup. (sopa) Meal times were full of confusion as we tried out our new Spanish.
   They talked so fast! When I learned 3 different ways that they respond to "How are you",  I would repeat all 3 responses at once to tease them. They really liked that. The more we tried to talk, the happier it made them. We made all kinds of mistakes but they forgave us.
  We began to realize that the main part of their diet was meat. WE made it clear to the cook that we were vegetarian. She was very eager to please and cooked our food separate. Often she would not put any meat in the soup that was for all the workers so we could eat from the main kettle.
  One evening as I was dishing up our soup, I asked the cook to make sure there was no meat in it. She said there definitely was no meat in it. She was busy helping other nurses get their food so I went ahead and dished up ours. When I raised the big ladle out of the pot I screamed in surprise. A big long chicken claw was coming up on the top of the ladle. I plopped it back in and turned around to scurry back to my room. I was ready to vomit. My face must have been white.  I no longer had any hunger. As I turned there was a row of surprised Mexican faces peering into the pot. Peels of laughter followed as they realized what had caused my terror. Needless to say we just could not eat that evening.
All I could think about was the filth that chicken had walked in and what was now in the black bean stew.
  The poor cook was really upset, she had not put that claw into the stew. She worried about us going without eating. She would often bring us a treat of mangos, bananas, papayas or cantaloupe if she could buy it with the meager amount of money she was given. It think she sometimes sacrificed from her own paycheck t give us something to eat when the black beans every meal caused us to stop eating.