The excitement began to build with the arrival of Ann from Yaounde on Wednesday. Shortly thereafter others began to roll onto the compound. The regular cadre went to the Coffee Shop that night with Ann, an exception to our normal Friday excursion, and when Phil began muttering with the proprietress of the restaurant about cooking of ham and delivery of pie, I knew that the Thanksgiving would be something excellent. Then I got an email from my ma about the high quality of expat thanksgivings she'd experienced and I got a Package in the mail from Dad that contained an Advent Calendar. Yeserii, a calendar for Advent complete with a sticker from World Market and the hint of chocolate. It arrived in a bubble package and the cardboard corners of the calendar are beaten in while the entire top section is ripped in an intriguing way. And now the calendar sits upon the top of my bookshelf with the letters from my mother marching their way down to the sides. It is quite the familial monument. Also that night, I opened another of my mothers ever prescient letters and it contained four comics. Thus the four of us at the table were all able to laugh at the same time but at different things. It made for a comfortably discomfiting experience.
Thursday, the day of Thanksgiving. I announced to my classes that it was a great holiday in the states but they did not really care until I mentioned eating lots of food. That perked them right up and I suddenly had to speak over their shouts of promises to come that night to "chez vous" where they wanted me to feed them. But their shouts arose also from the fact that I have finally gotten around to buying myself a couple of traditional African BuBu-s, which are the pajama like outfits you might see people wearing. This particular one is made up of a pair of drawstring pants that taper toward the ankles and a loose flowing top that hangs down just above my knees. The other hangs to my ankles. I will include a picture once I get my computer back. The pattern, for all these outfits are hugely bepatterned, is the Teacher'suniform. Anyone who is a teacher is allow to purchase one. though I am sure you could buy one anyway since no one asked for any proof of my being an educator. This particular one is full of fun slogans about teachers are responsible! and other platitudes. It is also bilingual since the education system is really trying to be so itself. As some famous people have never said, change the clothes, change the minds. Actually I bet many have said this given sumptuary laws and sartorial uniformity in work and play sectors.
I bought everything with the help of Alfred, one of the English teachers with whom I drink Shah. First we bought the materials and then scrunched up aboard a moto and whisked to a tailor who had a poster on his wall of various designed. In between his shaking my hand, and ordering the boy in the hole in the wall tailorshop around, I managed to point out some designs that I liked. He quickly noted them and then took a few abrupt measures of my legs and shoulders and arms. But not my head or neck, the result of which my ears mutter to my shoulders that they we're never to be do intimately acquainted whenever I try to put on my bubu.
Alfred also took me to buy a traditional village cap from his area which chiefs wear, so I was really all dolled up for class. When first I came onto campus many students who were not even mine began to point out that the American was not coming in pants and a shirt today, but when I went into class what roars of applause greeted me and shouts of handsome, gorgeous, great, and terrific rained down. They've really studied their adjectives, huh. I then took all their adjectives and had them change them to adverbs because I never pass up a teaching opportunity. They're pretty good sports about it. Afterward Alfred and I served the tea for Thursday faculty reception and I got a similar barrage of vocab, though far more subdued and I itched to do the same grammar exercise. But I did not instead I demurely poured the tea and served the beignets and made sure everyone got a handful of groundnuts. While I think the outfit is neat, I certainly would nerve apply gorgeous to it, although the second one I bought certainly could be described as such. The most enthused group was my second class. They're the same who last week ushered me in with great ceremony. Well when I came in they, and they must have plotted this since they had seen me in the morning, scrapped their benches back and shouted and formed a circle around me to fan me with their books and come up to touch my outfit and hat. It was very strange and I just stood their for a while in confusion and befuddlement.
But now we are nearing Thanksgiving. Ahhh how the lady had decorated our restaurant-for indeed we had thanksgiving at the coffee shop-she had bought a large bright orange tablecloth with matching napkins. Heavier than usual silverware was laid out and everyone had two choices of glass. And who was everyone? There were three Swiss who had come with the Browns, an American couple of whom the husband is a surgeon, the Fredericks, representing Canada, Mia, Phil, myself, and Bob and Nesmin from the bible translation society, Ann. The first course, hors d'oeuvres in the form of platter after platter of ham and pickles and olives, bread, and
CHEDDAR CHEESE
both white and orange that Ann had brought up. What a gustatory surprise, what pure awesomeness. And then their was a prayer, first a spoken one, but then I made everyone sing the Johnny Appleseed prayer and everyone knew it except the Swiss, who along with everyone else was a bit nonplussed by the sudden outbreak. It was pretty spectacular, so thanks Lutheran Outdoors for making sure we all knew the words.
The cheese was amazing and I wrapped olives in it, ham in it, pickles in it, cheese in cheese, cheese on bread. Oh glory oh glory. As you might be able to tell, I don't get much cheese out here.
The second course was the main course. Out came four rotisserie chickens, mashed potatoes, gravy-which Phil had made because they don't really have that here-, boiled rosemary potatoes, astonishingly tasty stuffing, and yet another surprise, Cranberry Sauce that the Browns had carted from the states.
And then dessert. No pumpkins out here, you know, but there are dozens of varieties of other squash and Val had whipped into shape four or five of these majesties and they were better and better than I remember pumpkin being. Of course I haven't had pie in years and certainly not pumpkin when it was offered, so my tongue may have forgotten. But there was also whipped cream. So I had lots of that and borrowed a small bite of Mia's apple cobbler so that I could put cheese on yet another food item. I succeeded in having cheese with everything. Victory I say, victory. Then I had to have Phil take me home because I felt mightily ill, but I had outeaten everyone else. Greedy one that I am, I was probably a bit green by the end. As we left, the mistress of the restaurant handed us gift bags, T-shirts with the slogan of the restaurant. Also, I did not sleep very well since I could barely move once I had lain down and the amount of tryptophan that should have been coursing through me failed to help. but I was up the next morning and grinning at Phil as he came by on his six thirty walk. And in classic American style, we had leftovers the next night along with some corn Phil had found and then watched A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, which was rather entertaining and the second part on the voyage of the Mayflower was very educational. And now I go to grade the exam I gave yesterday that had all my students groaning in academic pain like I was groaning in physical pain.
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