Mex-a-giving

November 26

Yesterday I invited about a dozen friends (Majabiya and her family and neighbors) over to my house for a Thanksgiving feast. I had obsessed over the menu for weeks, my criteria being: what could I cheaply make a lot of, fairly ‘easily’ that would be different and interesting to Nigeriens? Easy: Mexican food! Consulting the Peace Corps Niger cookbook, I made refried beans, which I cooked in two 2-hour batches the night before, saved the been goop drain-off, then refried them the day of in aforementioned bean goop and oil and onions (which I could have used more of) and added taco sauce mix my mom had sent me from the states. Rice with another taco sauce packet, flour tortillas and salsa (tomatoes, onions, salt, lime juice) rounded out the meal. Luckily an army of children had come over around noon to help sweep my concession, cook (and burn) the rice, wash dishes and ride my bike.

I showed them how to put the tacos together and I’m proud to say that it was a hit: “When are you going to teach us how to make this?” which I think means they liked it. They particularly liked the beans and tortillas, taking all the leftovers, presumably to show and share with family members at home. It was over and done with in less than 2 hours-I told them to come over at 5pm and they were all gone by 6:30. I had been cooking like a fiend for 4x that amount of time, but I loved doing it, especially for Majabiya, who cooks for me and welcomes me into her home all the time. It is such a labor of love to cook for family and friends, because they’re worth it. When I cook for myself I’m happy enough making the same thing every day: pasta and sautéed veggies, or some variation on the theme. Going to all the trouble of refrying beans is not something I’m going to do for myself. Majabiya thanked me for the food and party, and I thanked her: “Without you, I would have to celebrate alone” was the sentiment I attempted to communicate in Hausa.

Of course in the process of planning and throwing this party I thought of Thanksgivings past. This is my fourth one celebrated outside of the states and I always make it a to-do. It’s the perfect opportunity to share American culture with the rest of the world. I love that it’s not religious, it’s American, and I also love sharing the story of what we’re celebrating. As I tell it, the Amerindians shared their food with and saved the first Europeans to come to America, which was a bad move on their part, as the Europeans later proceeded to kill the Amerindians and steal their land. “What do you do for Thanksgiving?” people ask. We don’t exchange gifts, it’s a time for families to come together and eat lots of good food.

At least that’s how I explain it in my very basic Hausa. But reflecting on the Thanksgivings of my past, they’ve as often been spent with friends rather than family. We have celebrated with my mom’s best friend Nancy (who’s like an aunt) and her family; my godmother and her husband; “just us” (mom, brother, stepdad, me); and last year I spent it with my aunt, uncle, cousins, their friends and a coworker of mine I’d just met a few weeks before while my mom and stepdad were in California with other aunts, uncles and cousins. At least in my family it’s nothing like Tabaski in Niger, where people travel far to their hometowns to celebrate with brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, mothers, fathers. It got me missing my grandma for the second time this week. My family has been without a matriarch for almost half my life. She must have been a unifying force as we (her 5 children and their families) have rarely convened all together since. The first time I missed her was while reading the Jane Austen book. I know my grandma loved her and regret not having read the books while she was alive so we could have discussed them. I also know she’d be able to relate to my Thanksgiving and other cooking endeavors.

I will never take a home-cooked meal for granted again-it takes a lot to plan and execute a meal that doesn’t involve instant- or microwaveable- anything. My godmother sent me cookbooks from the 70’s and 80’s and the complicated recipes and obscure ingredients struck me as incongruous with the (too?) fast-paced jam-packed ‘scheduled’ lives Americans lead these days. ‘Scheduling’ isn’t a prominent part of life here in Niger, and while it’s taking some getting used to, I like it. Family and friends are important in a matter-of-fact, everyday kind of way. I’m learning the protocols of greeting and visiting (and fucking it up a lot in the process). I’m grateful for the friends who have welcomed me into their homes so quickly, so easily. Even though it was exhausting, I see many such feasts for my friends in my future.

A week later the Zinder volunteers convened at the hostel to celebrate Thanksgiving together. We had 3 ducks, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, squash bread, deviled eggs, squash casserole, green bean casserole, salad, and fruit salad, which I made. Bananas, oranges, apples, a papaya and shredded coconut. Mmmboy. We had wine, bissap, and mojitos. It was a good convivial time.

I’m grateful for anyone who has ever cooked for me, for current friends who are open and patient and generous to me, and friends and family back home whose letters and packages are so thoughtful and always welcome. Happy Thanksgiving! Barka da salla!