Why Are There No Thanksgiving Songs?

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving here was surprisingly normal, minus all the extra work that wouldn't be necessary in America.  We started with a live turkey and did all of the work ourselves. It takes a lot longer than picking up one cleaned and plucked from your local grocer's frozen food section.  This turkey accepted its fate quite nobly.  He probably never expected this end.  Certainly, he was unaware he would end up on the dinner table (actually we sat on mats on the floor) of some Americans and their guests.  Oh well, such is life.

 

We had an amazing spread of food which everyone contributed different culinary skills to.  In addition to the turkey we had such traditional Thanksgiving goods as stuffin', green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, potato salad, mac-n-cheese, banana bread, "spinach dip" (made with hibiscus leaves) in a bread bowl, a relish tray, pumpkin bread, squash bread, a couple of cobblers, and a few other deserts.  I carved the turkey and also carved a turkey into a pumpkin and we had a Thanksgiving jack-o-lantern of sorts. In true Thanksgiving fashion we watched some old football games we found on tape and ate leftovers for breakfast.  We sat around taking our tryptophan naps and everyone told stories about how their family does Thanksgiving, which was not like being at home, but it was comforting to be able to talk about home.  And, a good time was had by all.

 

 

I had a sad course of events happen just before coming in to the hostel for Thanksgiving.  One of my best friends in my village passed away from meningitis. He was only about 15.  Last Monday I was coming back from doing a radio show.  The bush taxi made really good time and I was able to ride in the cabin so it didn't matter much anyway.  So, I got back to my village at a decent hour (read: sun still up).  Upon arriving my neighbor Hashem told me that his son, Lawali, was sick and at the likita (doctor's office).  I went to put my stuff down with the intention of stopping in and saying hello.  Then, on my way there I enquired to make sure he was there.  I was told he was sleeping.  The sun was about to drop below the horizon so I decided I wouldn't disturb him and would wait to go see him in the morning.  I thought he'd be feeling much better by then anyway.

 

The next morning I was woken around 5:00am to the sound of the usual animals.  There were roosters begging for the sun, guinea fowl squeaking like wobbly tires, and donkeys braying.  There was also the occasional goat or sheep, but nothing volume-wise compared to the other animals.  Then, there was an unfamiliar sound, women wailing.  I haven't heard anyone cry in this country, so to hear these loud cries was a bit disturbing.  My heart immediately sunk, for I feared the worst. 

 

I rubbed my eyes and got out of bed. It was "cold" but I had to know what was going on. I began thinking of all the possibilities of what could have happened, but I knew it was Lawali.  I threw on pants and a sweatshirt and began to look over my wall.  Many women in groups of twos and threes were walking very solemnly into the concession of Lawali's family.  Then several of the neighbor men brought an amalanki (donkey cart) with straw mats and a few other things which I couldn't see.

 

I went outside and asked a friend what had happened.  He told me that one of the children had died.  I was stunned.  Even though I had already guessed what was happening, having the truth unfold in front of me like that was terrible.  Not only did I not know what to say in English, I definitely didn't know what to say in Hausa. 

 

I glanced over and saw one of the brothers.  He walked over and I greeted him. It looked as if he was using the facial expressions of anger to hold back the tears.  Lacking the language skills, I just touched my heart with my hand and shook his again.  He understood.

 

I sat with Hashem, Lawali's father, for a while after he called me over and went back to my house to fix the mornings breakfast.  This wasn't a situation I wanted to deal with on an empty stomach.

 

By this time, around 7:30 or 8:00 am, of what was already feeling like a long day, people had begun to gathered outside to greet the family.  So I took my mat out so that a few more people wouldn't have to sit in the dirt.  All the women met inside the concession and all of the men gathered outside.

 

The imam, a religious leader, showed up and the body was brought out on a wooden stretcher of sorts.  Some prayers were done with the family (men).  Then, we went out to a field where more prayers were done and the body was lowered into the ground. 

 

I was not in anyway prepared for this death.  Lawali had been one of my best friends here.  He is part of the larger adopted family who I live with and has treated me like a brother.  My language skills can be partly contributed to his help.  Most importantly with language, he defended me when others would say "Rabé, doesn't hear Hausa".  That meant a lot because people throw that around like dust here. He walked with me everyday when I went to play soccer.  He didn't play but loved to watch.  Every evening we walked to the market where the soccer match happens and every evening we walked back.  He would force a path through the kids who are still amazed by the boy with white skin and I would be thanking him and joking around about how he's going to have to play my position when I can't make it. 

 

It just makes me incredibly thankful for the opportunities I've been given in life.  As you reflect over your Thanksgiving, remember to be thankful for what you have and if you feel you have nothing to be thankful for, be thankful about the things that you don't have that you don't want.  Thank you for reading and thanks for all of your support.  I've enjoyed reading everyone's comments and apologize for not being able to comment on your comments, but I don't have much time on the internet and it is terrible slow and frustrating. Soon, I'll have more pictures posted too. 

 

Go Tigers!  Actually while I was in the market in Hamdallaye I saw I boy wearing a Auburn wool cap.  They have a different sense of hot and cold here.