An African Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving in Africa, not exactly the same as it is at home, but it was a fun experience. This year my area leader, Chad, decided that it would be fun to invite all of our principals to his site for a traditional American Thanksgiving feast. Being away from home during the holidays can be tough, so all of the volunteers were excited to be able to have a little taste of home, and to spend some quality time with people that actually spoke fluent English. Inviting our principals to experience an American holiday was a nice idea, but really it was just a ruse to get our principals to drive us all out to Chad’s site so we wouldn’t have to navigate the taxi situation. Chad’s site is in a beautiful mountain location, but from my site you have to take three different taxis to get there, which becomes a serious problem when you are traveling after school. So the principals were invited to share our turkey extravaganza, and then were expected to head home so that the Americans could hang out and head to the beach the next day for the Kwa-Zulu Natal Provincial Conference put on by the Volunteer Support Network. In theory it was a great plan, but this is Africa, and nothing here seems to go the way that you want it to.

The first blunder on my way to African Thanksgiving was that my principal didn’t really want to go. This has been a reoccurring problem for me, but we will talk more about that issue later. So the Wednesday before Thanksgiving I was called into his office to discuss the logistics of making the hour car ride to the dinner. It took some time, but finally I convinced him that I needed him to take me because I probably wouldn’t make it before the taxis stopped running, and that it would look bad because he would be the only principal not there. This last part was of course a lie, but appearances here mean everything, so he couldn’t have it look like he doesn’t care about his volunteer. The next day I was packed and ready to go see some other white people, but of course we had to make a little stop in town at the local gas station. Little did I know we were picking up more than a full tank of gas. Turns out that my principal decided to invite a friend to our little dinner party so that he “wouldn’t have to drive back alone”. The already awkward car ride just got a whole lot weirder since I had to try and explain what Thanksgiving was to a complete stranger while at the same time texting my fellow volunteers to let them know there would be a random guest at dinner. Once we got to dinner I was hoping things would be a little less awkward, but they weren’t. My principal and his friend sat in the parking lot for the majority of the time they were there talking and smoking while I went inside to escape. They did finally make it inside right before dinner was being served, because no one in Africa would ever pass up a free meal.

Things got a little weird again when it came time to serve the food. In order to make sure that there was enough food for everyone, the volunteers served their guests. In South Africa men are always served first, and the women do not sit down until everyone else is eating. Being a female and having two male guests it seemed like I was playing right into the gender roles that are common here, and the ‘friend’ decided that since I served him once, that meant I was his personal server for the rest of the night. When he wanted more meat he told me, when he wanted pie he told me, when he wanted a drink he told me, and by the end of the night I was not having it anymore. Of course since I had no idea who this random person was I didn’t not feel that I was in any position to tell him no, so eventually I just stopped coming back to the table. Luckily for me they decided to leave right after they had finished all of their food, so I was finally able to relax and enjoy some delicious American food with friends. It still wasn’t the same as spending the holiday with my family, but for Africa it was more than I expected.