Before I say anything, I must say, after eating everything, it was a very good meal that had the best taste I could ever ask for. What makes it memorable may be what exactly I ate, or how something was prepared.
We had mothers come in and decorate the school while the children diligently worked, trying to sneak a peek every now and then around the divider to see what was going on. Everyone was in good spirits as they happily waited to indulge in the festivities we had planned, starting with the Feast of Feasts. As I pondered around the food area, I was very impressed with displays of turkeys, all dressed to look spectacularly delicious to anyone who looked at them. Two turkeys to be exact; making sure everyone had their fill plus more. Smells circled the school, making everyone more hungry as they waited. Finally the time had came, and children started the line a class at a time. While they wanted to dish everything up themselves, the mothers did it like an old fashioned lunch line at Harper Elementary as the plates were passed down the line, then handed to the student at the end. They then proceeded to their desks and ate in the classrooms with their friends close by. After everyone had finished, I got in line, hoping for a heaping plate since everyone had been through. I got exactly what I wanted. As they filled my plate, I kindly declined the macaroni salad and something else that didn't look so swell, so I just said I was allergic to it. Worked like magic. I got my plate, and took my excited stomach to my room and sat in some peace and quiet. Many colors flooded my plate and I tried picking what to eat first. The bright pink and white cranberry Jell-O salad and whipped cream salad was obviously the best choice. Especially since they had given me two helpings. I loaded my spoon with a mouth full, opened wide and clamped down trying to savor every single ounce of it. At that moment, my taste buds sent shocks through my spine alerting me that something was wrong. My sweet taste buds that had been so finely prepared were thrown for a loop when something completely different was present in my mouth. While in many homes I have been in over Thanksgiving, cranberry something is on the table and a tradition. However, I suppose this has something to do with Haitian-American culture, they believe that pickled-egg potato salad should replace the cranberry, giving onlookers false hope of receiving a nice dish. Instead, this...STUFF....was served to me, punishing me for assuming too much. I could have died!
After I cleaned the puke up off the ground (This is a joke. Once I realize what it was, I ate it and it was fine, just not my Jell-O salad I was craving) I proceeded to the turkey. I had not slabs like I am used to it being cut into, but chunks. So, I took a chunk, inserted into my mouth and chomped down again. After this I immediately was looking up my cousin Erin Johnson's (a dentist) phone number. For it felt like every tooth was broken off into my mouth. Apparently, the knives they used are sharp enough to filet right through bone, cutting the turkey into a grid or something, avoiding taking the bones out. Why take them out when we can cut through them? Well, fine! OK! I understand your concern! Just please, next time, let people know this is not a traditional Thanksgiving Feast. Please and thank you!
Since I have no teeth, I proceed onto the mashed potatoes since I don't really have to chew them. Quickly, I decide this too was not a good idea, as the stuff in my mouth tasted like mashed potatoes, yet, was something very, extremely cold. Almost frozen. I did not want to say anything because I want to be culturally polite. So, I do the next best thing. Find Alicia, the only other white person within 20 miles, who happens to be the secretary and ask her about it. She informs me that it is indeed mashed potatoes, but when she tried to heat them up, she got yelled at so she just set them on the table. I should have realized that I was the last person through, and no one had touched these potatoes. Usually a sign of some sort, so, I took mental note of that one too.
As the meal was slowly declining, I decided to stick to the black beans and rice they had prepared, as well as the fried plantains, a traditional Haitian meal. It...was...SPECTACULAR! I should have just stuck to three plate-fulls of this instead.
After downing the last of my plate, someone asked if I wanted sweet potatoes also. While I love sweet potatoes, I kindly declined wondering if they were even orange or sweet or even potatoes. I was 2 for 5 on guessing what things were so I was going to stick to my current odds and turn it down. I think I made the right choice!
To refresh everyone...The meal was very good and lots of work was put into the meal to prepare it. I may sound ungrateful, yet, I was not at all. I was so happy that the time, energy, and most of all love was put into making this feast. It is just, when working with different cultures, things are prepared different ways. When it is a thing like Thanksgiving dinner, that everyone is used to their own traditions, it is hard not to get expectations that it is going to be mom's mashed potatoes with ranch and cream cheese. This by far was the best meal we have had this year at YLC, it would have just been better with an instruction packet on how to properly consume each thing on the plate!
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