One of the saddest, yet most enjoyable parts of living in
Madagascar is finding new ways to celebrate American holidays. Thanksgiving is
one of those holidays that is obviously not celebrated in Madagascar. It is
depressing in that we are missing out on all the family time that you can never
get back, but pretty exciting in that we have to find a new way to celebrate
this holiday every year. Take the concept of an oven for example – a vital
(dare I say a critically essential) item when it comes to Thanksgiving
tradition. It’s rather comical when you consider the historical context of the
celebration cause you know those pilgrims weren’t cooking with ovens. Anyway,
every year the Peace Corps volunteers of the south east of Madagascar find a
way to celebrate this fine holiday so I thought it might be cool to show some
pictures of how we did it this year.
We got the directions on how to do this from google and my magnificent chef of a cousin, Keenan. We dug a pit about three feet deep in my backyard and placed tons of searing hot coals inside. We put in about a foot of coals, then the bird, then more coals and sand to create our own kind of oven. The bird cooked for about 5 hours and then we dug him out and it turned out incredibly well. Only a small part of the turkey wasn't fully cooked. It was one of the better turkeys I've ever had, though I guess I'm a bit biased. Photo cred to Briana. There may be a picture or two you won't want to look at.
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| Don getting more than just a thanksgiving meal from Drumstick |
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| Briana, Don and I with Drumstick. |
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| Not for the squeamish. Drumstick was the third bird I've murdered in country and I promise I don't enjoy it. I'm no expert but I think it was as humane and quick as you can get when cutting an animals throat. |
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| Plucking |
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| Plucking complete |
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| We stuck clothes hangers through drumstick so that when we dropped him into the charcoal pit we would be able to pull him out easier. Here we are diligently wrapping him in foil. |
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| Almost done. |
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| This was just the beginning but it turned into an inferno in that corner |
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| Drumstick covered in tin foil and then wrapped in hemp |
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| Pushing the coals in on top of Drumstick. |
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| So hot |
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| Covering the pit with coals and sand. You can see the hanger from Drumstick in the bottom right |
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| Sud Est |
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| Briana and the rest of the gang surprised me with a birthday cake |
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| My second family |
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| FEAST! Thanks to Don's family and my family for sending us some Thanksgiving care packages |
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| Sedric. This kid is 12 and is incredibly good at English. He came over the next morning and I gave him some leftovers |
In other news, life in Manakara is great. I have completed
three teacher trainings so far in this first trimester with several more in the
works for the next trimester. I have an English course for the high school
seniors of Manakara as well as an English conversation club with a select few
who can speak a little bit better than most. We discuss a bunch of different
issues (ie. Gender roles in Madagascar vs. USA, how to get Madagascar out of
poverty, etc) and I really enjoy hearing their [often strange] opinions on
these topics.
Let me just detail one strange conversation. Following the
death of that teenager in the ocean in Manakara tons of people in the city knew
that several PCVs and myself were responsible for bringing him out: they were
asking us about it and thanking us on the streets. These students also had
heard about it, which led us to a conversation about swimming in the ocean here
in Madagascar. As I mentioned in that post, your average Malagasy person is
completely petrified of the ocean and it doesn’t help that Manakara’s beach is
one of the rougher ones I have ever seen. But the Antemoro people (the tribe
that comprises most of Manakara and a lot of the rural areas north and south of
the city) take this fear to a whole new level. They believe, among many other
things, that eating pork is wrong because pigs are filthy and no one should be
eating anything that rolls around in mud 24/7. I guess when you think about it,
they have a good point but it just tastes so good. Some Antemoro agree with me
and therefore there are a few who sacrifice their cultural pride for this
delectable dish. Now, according to the Antemoro tribe, those people who choose
to eat pork and then happen to go swimming in the ocean in the following days
are guaranteed one fate: death. So, when we discussed the death of this
teenager the only possible explanation for his passing was that he must have
eaten pork at some point in the days leading up to what he thought would be a
harmless dip in the ocean. The Antemoro believe there is some kind of creature
of the sea who will not let you out of the ocean if you wear any kind of red
clothing or eat pork. It is completely unfathomable that he simply died because
he wasn’t a good swimmer. These are the kinds of things that they will debate
ad nauseam and you have absolutely no chance of convincing them otherwise. I
suggested we all eat pork and then I would go swimming with each person
one-by-one because there is absolutely no way I would let him or her die. They
said it doesn’t matter if I don’t believe; they would never survive because it’s
just not possible to trick this water creature. So, while these debates can be
incredibly fun and interesting, they also get a little frustrating sometimes.
In the coming weeks I am going to be going back to
Ampasimanjeva for a friend’s wedding, then for the opening of some new
classrooms at my old school and Christmas. In case I don’t get to say it
beforehand, a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone!
