Thanksgiving In South Africa

South Africans don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, nor do we have an equivalent to this uniquely American tradition.

As Thanksgiving Approaches . . .

With “Temporary Visitors,” we paused to consider the turkey’s fate; with “May I Eat as I Please, Please?” we ruminated about French tarts and frozen peas.  With “Thanksgiving Prep,” we ended up redecorating the house in anticipation of arriving guests.  And with “Thanksgiving in South Africa,” we were reminded that Thanksgiving is not just about the groaning board.

Thanksgiving in South Africa

South Africans don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, nor do we have an equivalent to this uniquely American tradition.

I’ve been privileged to experience Thanksgiving with family and friends for each of the fourteen years that I’ve lived in America. This year, we’re in South Africa. I feel oddly disoriented.

It seems strange to be surrounded by Christmas trees and all things Christmas this early in November, as the country gears up for the holidays. It’s as though a crucial step has been skipped. I want to let everybody know what they’re missing. I want to say that Thanksgiving is a wonderful way to prepare for December and the end of another year; whether we celebrate Christmas or not. I want to explain how, every year on the fourth Thursday of November, Americans join together around bountiful tables to share a meal of Turkey with all the trimmings, celebrating their ties to people they love and giving thanks for their blessings; without the stresses and strains brought on by excessive commercialization.

Thanksgiving Prep

It all begins, innocently enough, with my simple desire to replace the comforter on my son’s twin bed. After 10 years, it is faded and worn. My husband has a clever idea though – don’t buy another twin comforter, let’s use this opportunity to move the full-size guest bed into our son’s room, since he is now 6 feet tall and not nearly done growing. Our son will be much more comfortable in a full size bed, and we can move his twin bed to the guest room.

May I Eat As I Please, Please?

Every Saturday this summer, we visited the local farmer’s market—for fresh vegetables, of course, but also for French tarts so good you knew butter suffused every pastry pore.  I waited to have my annual blood-letting until the market closed, for I suspected my cholesterol level might be in doubt.  I should have waited until the holidays were over.

Temporary Visitors

I can’t stop thinking about turkeys. A few days ago while out driving, I notice the open field next to my children’s former preschool has become home to a large flock of turkeys. A temporary fence encloses 50 or so beautiful white turkeys roaming the pasture. Who knew turkeys could be white, instead of the typical brown versions that adorn grocery store ads in November?