Yesterday I promised that I would have a Thanksgiving story to tell you guys about our Thanksgiving dinner and by golly I intend to keep that promise. So ready, set, go!
I’m told yesterday at school (yes, I actually had to go to class on Thanksgiving day – how unfair is that?) to show up at Serigne’s roof at 18.30 (that’s French for 6:30 pm) because that’s what time the party starts. So 18:30 rolls around (because the watch I bought here is stuck in French time) and I realize that I need to buy some bread to bring to this party. I buy some bread and head on over to Serigne’s house. Luckily, he lives in my neighborhood and even more luckily he provided an easy to read map to direct me to his house.
It’s 18:40 by the time I roll up to Serigne’s rooftop and I’m informed that even though I am 10 minutes late, I am the first one there. First thing I’m thankful for: the fact that the other toubabs are even later than me covering up my chronic lateness.
So people start trickling in, bringing in all sorts of things that they’ve made and/or purchased for the feast tonight. I made a list as the night went on and it looks something like this:
Asian food rolls
Homemade applesauce
Kraft mac-n-cheese
Homemade mac-n-cheeze
Mashed sweet potatoes
Orange squash
Fried plantains
Vegetable noodles
Garlic and rosemary mashed potatoes
Chicken
Stuffing la Africain
Quiche with tomatoes on top
Salsa
Cranberry sauce in a can (!!!)
Juices de: bissap, buie, ditakh, gingembre
Egg rolls
Bread
Salad
Canned popcorn
Homemade trail mix
Canned fruit cocktail
Homemade fruit salad
Peach cobbler
Squash pie
Vegetable vendor squash pie
Madelines with chocolate
Cookies, esp. of the Aladin, Karen, Salsa, Favorite, and
Second thing I’m thankful for: the creativity and ingenuity of all my toubab comrades that made such a feast possible.
Now don’t worry, I made sure that I tried everything. And I can definitively say that even though my comrades had to get a little creative when faced with some of the ingredients that us Americans like to put in our traditional foods (I mean why would anyone can a pumpkin in the first place? But squash makes a darn fine substitute), they still managed to put on a fantastic Thanksgiving meal. I am also incredibly impressed at the American traditions that somehow found their way through the USPS, a plane ride or two or twelve over the
Just so you understand what it was like we’ll digress for a bit – when I had to go pick up my package I had to first of all find the package depot (not a clue why we can’t just keep packages at the post office near school). That involved a car rapide ride (always fun and never rapide) downtown, asking about four different people at the post office downtown, then about a half hour walk to find a building that was only two blocks away. When I finally got to the package depot, I went up to a window and showed them my package slip. They told me to go talk to a guy in the next room. The guy looked at my package slip and told me to go talk to a guy in a back room. I wandered through this door into an air-conditioned room and found a guy at a desk whose only job must be to verify that people do, in fact, have their package slip because he told me to go find that big guy out front. He also stamped my slip to prove that he had looked and made sure that I had my slip. The big guy told me to go on through to the package room. I showed the guy in the package room my slip (that had been stamped to prove that I in fact had it) who went back into the labyrinth of bookshelves, with packages strewn everywhere like some sort of Greek ruin. How he even found my package is beyond me. But he came back with my package. He then opened it to make sure that there was nothing illegal (like goat feed) in it. After taping it back up, he told me to go talk to “that guy.” So I went back to the big guy, who wrote something in a notebook. Then I had to go talk to another guy right next to the big guy who wrote something in his notebook. They both then stamped my package slip to prove that they had, in fact, looked and even written in their notebooks (at this point my package slip was looking more like a page in a diplomat’s passport than anything remotely useful). I was then told to go pay the customs fees (oh by the way I still don’t have my package). So I go pay my custom fees (who stamps my passport – I mean package slip). He then tells me I need to go talk to the guy at the front desk, who really is just the guy from the package room. The guy at the front desk looks at my passport and tells me I need to pay these ladies the processing fee. I pay them and they stamp my passport to prove I paid. They then tell me I need to go back to the desk and our friend from the back shows up and tears out a page from my passport. He then ventures back into the labyrinth, battles a Minotaur, and returns with my package. Apparently I can now go.
Third thing I’m thankful for: packages being delivered straight to your door.
Anyways, somehow the cranberry sauce and Kraft mac-n-cheeze made it through this and into my bowl where it was mixed with all of the above (my own personal Thanksgiving tradition) and thoroughly appreciated by my stomach.
People are eating, Kiki and I are discussing the finer points of the bissap markets in the States, as well as the effect that China’s entry into the WTO would have on market dumping and the fragility of the African bissap growers (how intellectual I know!), and general thanks are being given all around. The night is getting late, it’s getting sort of chilly (not yet cold though), and someone decides to start a Circle of Thanks. After everyone had gotten in a rather large circle on Serigne’s terrace, we went around and said what we were thankful for this Thanksgiving. It was a good moment, some girls cried, and everyone was happy and felt good.
Are you ready for our Christmas Spirit moment? You’d better be because it’s coming…
That night on Serigne’s roof, I learned that the true spirit of Thanksgiving is not stuffing yourself on delicious food until you burst, and then washing it down with three slices of pumpkin pie. The true meaning of Thanksgiving is to remember all the things that we’re happy for having in life. As the metaphorical baton was passed around the Circle of Thanks and people started saying what they were thankful for, I heard people who have struggled with
Fourth thing I’m thankful for: the power of Thanksgiving to make people happy.
Once the Circle of Thanks had dissolved, people started to trickle out as slowly as they had trickled in – saying goodbyes and happy thanksgivings and plans were made for this weekend. Stuffed to the gills, I decided to have one more piece of squash pie before leaving.
Fifth thing I’m thankful for: the fact that I only live 10 minutes away from Serigne’s house so I didn’t have to walk a long ways home before passing out full on my bed.
So I hope everyone had a delightful Thanksgiving this year. I’m going shopping today (Black Friday!) but I’m pretty sure that today is one of those days where I’d rather be hassled at a market in Dakar than looking for 4 hours for a parking place at the Danbury Fair Mall only to have to endure population densities that would make Tokyo look like the wide open tundra of northern Canada once I finally made it inside.
Oh and goats, I’m thankful for goats.
Love,
Jake
PS - I'm officially updating only the Google Pictures now. Picasa just takes too long and is too complicated. Sooo...from now on all new pictures will be on the google link over there ----->
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