Preparing Thanksgiving dinner for the family is one thing. Preparing it for more than 100 people you don’t know is something else.
Especially when most of your guests have absolutely no concept of Thanksgiving.
Actually, most of them have absolutely no concept of a turkey.
That wasn’t going to stop Dorothy Riley of Chicago. About a week ago she and a group of friends put together a Thanksgiving feast for 150 African immigrants and refugees at Bethesda Evangelical Lutheran Church on Chicago’s North Side.
The guests, most of them Somali Bantu who have been resettled in the Chicago area by Interfaith Refugee & Immigration Ministries, got the works: turkey, dressing, mashed pota-toes, gravy, sweet potatoes, green beans and cranberry sauce for dinner, and cake, brownies and cookies for dessert.
At sundown and before the big meal, there were dates, somosas (a traditional meat pie) and tea for the Bantu to end their Ramadan fast.
The idea for this melding of two cultures, not unlike that first Thanksgiving dinner nearly 400 years ago, came to Riley several months ago. Back in January, an article in her church bulletin mentioned the needs of African refugees who had been coming to Chicago. She and friends Barbara Roper of Chicago, Sandy Elbaum of Skokie and Grace Masi of Oak Park stepped up.
They do a variety of things for Chicago’s refugee community, from collecting and distributing items such as VCRs and clothes to taking people for their driver’s license exams.
“We do everything. We’re little elves,” Elbaum said as she cut up brownies and put them on plates in the kitchen at Bethesda.
This dinner was just an extension of their mission. “The purpose for me to be involved was to introduce [the refugees] to African-American culture and get African-Americans interested in resettling them,” Riley said toward the end of the evening, when she was finally able to sit down with her own plate of food.
“I was thinking about the holidays. Everyone does things for them around Christmas, so I thought, What about Thanksgiving? This would be a good time to introduce them to Thanksgiving in America.”
Chicago has seen an influx of Somali Bantu refugees during the last couple of years, with more than 300 arriving mostly from camps in Kenya. The Somali Bantu were originally from Tanzania and Mozambique and were brought to Somalia as slaves. Once they got their freedom they became farmers.
From bad to worse
They were already considered outsiders in Somali society, but their lives got even worse when a civil war broke out 13 years ago, fighting that continues today. Changes in U.S. policy over the last three years have opened the door for more Bantu to come into the country.
At the dinner, they made up the majority of the guests–Ghana, Togo, Liberia, Sudan and Ethiopia also were represented–who got their first taste of Thanksgiving. Literally. It’s quite different from a traditional Bantu celebratory meal, which would include beef or goat, rice and a thick cornmeal called soor.
“Turkey is a totally new food to them. They don’t have turkey in their country,” said Yussuf Ali, the Somali Bantu project coordinator for the Pan-African Association in Chicago. “And the tradition of thanking at a dinner is also something that is new to them.”
Riley’s first thought was to include a presentation about Thanksgiving, explaining it to the newcomers. She also considered showing them what a turkey looked like before it ended up under all that gravy. But those ideas proved too complicated, so Riley, a former chef, concentrated on the meal.
The Bantu may not have gotten the full story about the Pilgrims and Native Americans at that first Thanksgiving, but they did have a general idea of why they were there.
“This is fine,” she said. “It’s an experience, they’re not just having dinner. It’s a cultural event. They’re learning an American tradition.”
Riley recruited friends to help out, five turkeys were prepared, and on about a week’s notice Rev. Paul Bacon allowed Bethesda’s gym to be turned into a dining hall for the evening.
“The abundance we have in this country, compared to what they’re accustomed to in the [refugee] camps, we see that as a blessing from God, something we as a church need to share with other people,” Bacon said.
“This helps these people understand an American custom. Whether they like turkey is another thing.”
As mealtime neared, Sheikh Abdalle, the Bantu spiritual leader, said a prayer, blessing those in attendance, asking for peace and requesting a blessing for the children. Then Rev. Isaac Gyampadu and Rev. Bacon also said short prayers.
“This is very nice, very good,” Sheikh Abdalle said through an interpreter as he waited for his dinner to arrive. “I’m very glad to see the other pastors do the joint blessing.”
The feast comes together
With the guests gathered around a dozen large tables in the gym, volunteers in the kitchen carved the turkeys, made tea and coffee, scooped cranberry sauce into tiny plastic cups, whipped up potatoes and stirred the gravy. When the food was ready, a production line formed around a large wooden table.
Tranquilla Pate started each plate with a scoop of stuffing and some turkey. She handed off to Masi, who added mashed potatoes and gravy before passing the plate to Elbaum, who added sweet potatoes.
Roper was next, scooping on some green beans, and Riley then took the plate, adding a roll and the cup of cranberry sauce before handing it to a server who delivered it.
The guests’ reactions to the meal were mixed. Some ate eagerly. Some picked at their food like little kids. Most were somewhere in between.
“They like it,” said Mohamed Osman, nodding toward a group of fellow Somali Bantu at a nearby table. “They’re enjoying it.”
Nahiya Osman was a little more tepid. “The food was OK. I liked it,” she said.
And would she have it again?
“No,” she said, giggling.
“They won’t like it the first time,” offered a 16-year-old from Ghana, who has been in the U.S. for six years and asked that her name not be used. “I had to get used to it.”
Now, she says, “Oh, I like it. Pumpkin pie, potato salad, dressing, mashed potatoes, green beans. All of it.”
A universal experience
Once the meal was finished, the tables were cleared. The adults sat talking–just like an American Thanksgiving–while the children chased each other–just like an American Thanksgiving–and played with balloons that had been used to decorate the gym.
All that was missing was a Detroit Lions football game.
Suddenly, though, the gym became energized. The adults stood and clapped, the children began to squeal. Three Bantu men entered the gym carrying drums.
“They saw the drums and they were ready to party,” said Catherine N-Ibeagha, the women’s program coordinator for Interfaith. “It was like a Western party when they turn on the music.”
The drummers set up in a corner, and soon adults and children gathered around. The drummers played, the people danced and laughed.
Not just like an American Thanksgiving.
But as N-Ibeagha said, “I think we can definitely call it a Somali Bantu Thanksgiving celebration.”
