Turkey Day Nica Style

A week before the big day we sat in our program meeting and assessed what we knew about Thanksgiving 2007:

- We could have anywhere from 20-40 people at our house.
- We only have 7 plastic chairs and 3 of them are broken.
- We may or may not have enough serving dishes.
- Matt only eats dessert twice a year... which means we need to make A LOT.
- You can't find pumpkin pie mix in this country.
- Our oven only has one rack. The temperature settings are 1, 2, 3, and 4. We don't really have any idea what that means.

One Week till T-Day: All I remember was a flurry of market shopping, pie making, email sending, favor asking and house cleaning in preparation. We as Manna members were honestly a bit stressed, but happy and excited to be hosting not only my own family [yay Duncans!], but also a team from Vanderbilt, four of Manna's founders with their respective entourages, and just about all the single gringos we know.

12 Hours till T-Day: MPI had a casserole baking party while my family played a rousing game of spades [did I mention the Manna house has no TV?]. We kept giggling, making the chefs run away from their responsibilities to see what was funny.

Morning of T-Day: Vandy leaves for a surfing trip so we could clean and cook without stepping on people. Playing Geoff's Motown mix, my parents found aprons and took command of the tiny kitchen, directing Tessa and me to wash and chop until we could wash and chop no more. By the time we served the meal, Tessa had officially become part of our family.

The spread was incredible. Friends brought homemade rolls, yams, salads [who brings salad to Thanksgiving?!] and desserts. Our house produced a beautiful turkey with gravy [thanks, Mom!], sauteed vegetables, green bean casserole, mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, pumpkin soup, homemade dressing and four [count em, 4!] pumpkin pies. For the rest of my life, dinner parties will be a breeze compared to what we accomplished that day.

In a lot of respects, this was my favorite Thanksgiving. No one got snowed in-- although several chairs got thrown into the pool. No one got stuck cooking by themselves-- to pull it off, it truly had to be a group endeavor. Most importantly, no one forgot the reason for the day-- to celebrate friends, family and those friends who have become family. Seeing what we see everyday, we would be naive not to be thankful for such a privilege.

After all, Thanksgiving is so much more than just Pilgrims and Indians. It's not about our past, but rather being grateful for what we've be given today.

Speaking Goat at 3AM

While I was busy trying to permanently kick out Carl [that's right, I named my parasite. He was male, of course], our director presented us with the possibility of living in Cedro Galan [our rural community] for a week. Admittedly I wasn't super pumped about being away from the Manna house while Carl and I were having our dispute, but hey, when in Nicaragua, live like the Nicaraguans do!

To my glee, "Lalo" agreed to host me in their little red house. "Lalo" is the combination of Laura and Oscar who have an amazingly sassy and smart 7 year old named Laurita. Laurita and I, already friends from hanging out at her mom's English class, looked forward to being sisters for the week, playing hours of "ochos locos," drawing pictures for her parents and giggling over telenovelas [Spanish soap operas]. Laura, ever the concerned mother, specially made me food-- boiled carrots and potatoes-- because my stomach couldn't take anything fried [stupid Carl]. While I greatly appreciated her care, I started looking for other food outlets after my second breakfast of carrots.

My host family lived very simply, but happily. Smaller than my parents' bathroom, their home had dirt floors and two walls that divided the space into two bedrooms and a kitchen/living/dining area. We watched TV, prepared meals, and chatted in their four red plastic chairs, the only places to sit. The shower was a spicket with black tarp around it, which, due to the papaya and banana trees around the house, lent the feeling of bathing in the jungle. The mosquitoes swarming around me added to that feeling.

Although I knew it going in, the most difficult part of my experience was the toilet, a latrine [which we shared with four other families] about 30 yards from the house. This meant that if I needed the restroom during the night, I had to find my flashlight and toilet paper, unbolt the lock, tip-toe through two yards and pray that I didn't wake the dogs. Needless to say, the entire area knew when I went to the bathroom. If they didn't hear my entrance for some reason, I quickly remedied the situation by yelping every time I opened the latrine door. Seems that there was a goat who found it amusing to bleat at the gringa trying to juggle flashlight, toilet paper and the lock to the door.

At the end of the week, Laura told me that she and Oscar are saving money from his construction work and her small business selling children's clothes [she's a member of Manna's first microlending program] to install a toilet that flushes inside their home. I told her that I would bake a cake to celebrate the day.

My new realization: indoor plumbing is a marvelous thing.