Thanksgiving, SA style

There is a shocking lack of recognition and celebration surrounding American holidays in South Africa. (OK, we're not too shocked. And, if nothing else, this experience has given us a newfound understanding of immigrants' desires to preserve their native traditions.) "Thanksgiving? What's that? Are we suppose to be giving you thanks or something? For what? You Americans have so many weird holidays."

Now, without going into the nitty gritty of American history in all of its glorious inconsistency, it was difficult for us to explain the benefits of Thanksgiving outside of there being a huge amount of food and lots of family and friends around to help eat it. Luckily, that was a good enough explanation to merit having a little get-together...replete with much food and good company.

That said, it is a bit difficult to get the proper Thanksgiving fixings over here. Although there are plenty of Helmeted Guineafowl wandering around our front yard at any moment...


it's not really our style to choose one...chase it, catch it, slaughter it, pluck it, gut it, stuff it, cook it, and eat it. (If only they weren't so gamey.) Plus, we're hard-pressed to find the right side dishes to compliment said gamey fowl. Cranberry sauce and mom's made-from-scratch stuffing (YUM!) don't come too easy in these parts...especially with no moms around. We could rustle up some yams, green bean casserole, or mashed potatoes and gravy, but that doesn't really hit the right chord when it's 40 degrees Celsius. Nothing much does sound good when it's this hot. Except for maybe the ever-loved "Death By Chocolate" Magnum bar (the South African answer to Haagen Dazs) which offers complete bliss in any weather.

So, what to do? A pizza party, of course. Yeah! Calling all (six) friends: Thanksgiving in South Africa is a go!


Turns out one of our colleagues (the only other American) worked at a pizza place in his younger years. So, he had us over to show us how to make his super secret dough and delicious Chicago-style pizza. Seriously, it was phenomenal. Thick, chewy crust, just the right amount of tomato sauce, and loads of delectable toppings. For a brief moment I thought I was actually in Chicago.


Neil could hardly wait till it cooled...


All said and done, we made five of these scrumptious (and very large) pizzas. There was one with peppadews, artichoke hearts, and beet root that made my heart sing. Then it made my heart burn a bit too. But it was worth every burn-accompanied bite.


Another one was covered in nothing but cheese, beef sausage, and mince. Beef-lovers pizza, indeed.


I haven't heard Neil profess this much satisfaction with a meal since my mom visited Seattle in 2001 and made a spinach and mushroom quiche. (She maintains that it was nothing special. He refuses to admit/believe this). Of course, this time his euphoria may have had less to do with flattering a potential mother-in-law and more to do with the warm glow of a television...a common comfort of which he has perhaps been too long deprived. Ah, what could be better than gourmet pizza and South African soap operas? What a happy little Thanksgiving this was shaping up to be.


Of course, there was a tiny cooking mishap which resulted in the entire house filling with smoke. And when we opened the doors and windows, it filled with bugs too. So, we shut of all indoor lights and (rather reluctantly) made our way to the porch where although we would become the Thanksgiving feast for the bugs, at least we wouldn't asphyxiate to death. The fact that we might all live to see another day made us all pretty happy.


But, where is Neil? Well, you see, Neil is so brilliant a shade of white that the bugs thought he was a huge light bulb and their positive phototactic tendencies went into overdrive. After his arms got tired of swatting away trillions of giant winged-beetles that sound like fighter jets when they whiz by your head, he retired to the darkened house and proceeded to wash all the dishes. What a decent person...and superb dinner guest. He was making quite the headway too until this little friend of his ended up losing it's grip on the soapy surroundings and plunging into the dish water.


It's true that no rural South African event would be complete without some major bug component. But coming from the relatively bug-less haven of Seattle, it's taking us some time to adjust to all of these little creepy crawlies. And this little development brought our involvement in the evening's festivities to an abrupt close. "Bye, everyone! Got to run...bug in the sink. Happy Thanksgiving!"