I watched youtube videos of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with my housemate. We laughed about old trends, how the announcers always tell you how many people it takes to pull a balloon and what its size equivalent it is so that you have an understanding of how big snoopy is or sponge bob.
We moved to the kitchen where we listened to Christmas music and made stuffing and glazed carrots for our Thanksgiving celebration. It truly felt like I was home (minus the cold weather and the family). Oh- and there were political parades that went down my street banging drums, blowing their horns, and screaming.
The morning passed quickly and soon I found myself with five Americans, two Ugandans, and a three-year-old Indian boy in a car on the way to celebrate Thanksgiving. This year, I didn’t cross the Mississippi river but the Nile! We went over the river to “the other side” where we drove an hour, through dirt roads, past the sugar cane to get to an orphanage where we celebrated. I joined twenty-two missionaries* and their children and we feasted! I am sure that our dinner table looked very similar to yours- except my turkey was killed in my backyard, my pumpkin pie came from boiling real pumpkin for hours, and the onion rings on the green bean casserole were deep-fried at home. However, it was the same and tasty! The grand prize went to a non-traditional dessert of chocolate mint cookies. Yum!
The crowd:
It was a wonderful time talking with everyone, learning about their work, and their lives. I even met a girl who was volunteering as a nurse from my hometown. It turns out that I know her sister! What a small, small world.
After our feast, we began to worship the Lord. We opened the hymnbook and began to sing, gazing at the amazing green vista. Here I was, with thirty or so people from different parts of the US, many of whom I had just met, and yet we worshipped. Then we gave testimony of why we were thankful.- one after another listing what God had done in the past year. I felt so blessed to be part of this group of people.
The view of the country side while we feasted.
After I came home from Thanksgiving dinner, I skyped with my family. I actually felt like I was home, sitting in the kitchen, with my cousins and brothers, helping my mom cook. It was such a good time of talking! When I finished talking with them, I called my Gram. This dear woman can probably relate to my life in Uganda better than any other family member I have. She grew up on a farm, she took care of the chickens, made soap, washed the clothes by hand, and wore (gasp) skirts. When I told her that we had turkeys in our backyard before they slaughtered them, she didn’t respond like my normal peers in the states- her response was to ask whether they were black or white turkeys. Apparently, their color plays a role in how they taste!
*Missionaries often receive harsh criticism from development practitioners. While I could easily write an entire blog on my opinion of missions and development, I will leave you with this comment: The majority of professional development workers and their NGOs have moved to the northern part of this country, leaving the south still in need. As a result, more and more missionaries have moved into the region, working with the people, and doing the best that they can.
Sounds like a beautiful day! Glad you had people to enjoy it with.
ReplyDeleteBlessings,
Laura