Wednesday, November 7, 2007 was the day. Our feast consisted of chicken pieces, mashed potatoes, homemade stuffing, a lettuce salad, and mango pie (hey, the colour is right) for dessert. All the elements of the traditional meal were there, just not exactly the way we're used to them. Both families ate together for the noon meal; the kids in the kitchen at the supper table while the adults ate on the coffee table in the living room. One of the girls was running a high fever, so the rest of us--who'd been dragging with sniffles and cold all week--were thankful we weren't sicker.
It was a regular school and work day, so there wasn't much hoopla otherwise, though the visiting homeschool coordinator did manage to read a bunch of Thanksgiving-themed books for the younger kids. After cleaning up the food and the little bit of decorations we rustled up on short notice, it was back to life as usual, the holiday duly observed and put behind us.
I must mention the chickens, though. The men had brought back two chickens from market in Kumba for our meal. Neither Becky nor Lisa were entirely confident of how to prepare them, but they pulled if off splendidly. Before Becky attacked the chickens, however, she called me to see how they'd been packed up. They were rather sad-looking chickens (size-wise and colour) compared to the hearty Hutterite chickens I've become accustomed to in Vinh's kitchen, but the shock came from peeking inside. I'm familiar with the gizzard and heart being placed back inside the bird in a little bag, but these birds also contained the head and feet! (You certainly wouldn't want to waste those, would you? [Shudder] I think Bruno, Scotts' dog, was the beneficiary this time.)