Mansaf and Cranberry Sauce
 |
|
|---|---|
| “What do you mean, you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving?” |
“What do you mean, you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving?” Brian asked his new friend, Jafar.
“We’re not American, remember? We’re from Jordan,” Jafar said, tossing the beat-up football the way Brian had shown him. “And Thanksgiving is an American holiday.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Brian. “But just because you’re from another country doesn’t mean you can’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”
“What’s so great about Thanksgiving?” asked Jafar.
Brian threw Jafar a long pass. “For starters, you get to eat turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce.”
“What’s cranberry sauce?”
asked Jafar.
Brian grinned. “It’s like dark red Jell-O. It comes in a can.”
Jafar wrinkled his nose. “It sounds gross.” He launched the football into the air just as the bell rang for everyone to go back to class.
Toward the end of the school day, their teacher, Mrs. Kirkland, handed out markers, pastels, and construction paper. “I’d like each of you to make a picture of what Thanksgiving means to you.”
Some kids drew turkeys. Others drew Pilgrims and Native Americans. Brian drew himself and his mom and dad at a big dinner table full of food. As he was coloring an orange pumpkin pie, he glanced across the room at Jafar, who was crumpling up his paper.
Mrs. Kirkland was circling the classroom. When she came to Jafar’s desk, she stopped and spoke to him quietly. Jafar shrugged his shoulders. She whispered to him again, and Jafar nodded. He took a new piece of paper and began to draw.
At the end of class, Brian went over to see what Jafar had drawn. His friend’s picture had no turkeys or Pilgrims in it. Instead, Jafar had drawn a dirt road, a small house, and a strange-looking tree with gnarled branches. “It’s a picture of our house in Jordan,” explained Jafar.
“But what does it have to do with Thanksgiving?” asked Brian.
“Mrs. Kirkland said I should draw something I’m thankful for,” said Jafar. “I’m thankful I got to live there for ten years.”
Brian studied the picture. “What kind of tree is that?”
“An olive tree,” said Jafar. “We had one in our courtyard.”
Brian looked more closely at the picture. “Cool,” he said.
That night at dinner, Brian’s father asked his mother if she was going to make his favorite sweet potatoes for Thanksgiving.
She laughed. “When have I not made them? Thanksgiving dinner is always the same.”
Brian looked at his parents. “Mom, Dad . . . would it be OK if Thanksgiving were a little different this year?”
Three nights later, the doorbell rang. Brian and his parents opened the door to welcome Jafar and his parents. Jafar’s father carried a plate piled with apricots and figs. Jafar’s mother was wearing a colorful head scarf and holding a large yellow bowl.
“We’ve brought mansaf,” she said, presenting the bowl to Brian’s mother.
“What’s that?” Brian whispered to Jafar as the two boys went into the dining room.
“You’ll see,” said Jafar. “I’m sure it’s no weirder than cranberry sauce.”
“Dinner is served!” announced Brian’s father, emerging from the kitchen with the turkey. He set the platter at the head of the table, and everyone sat down.
Jafar stared at the huge turkey, the brown liquid overflowing from the gravy boat, and the bright-orange sweet potatoes.
Brian looked curiously at the contents of the yellow bowl.
“Mansaf is lamb with rice and yogurt sauce,” explained Jafar’s father.
“In Jordan, we serve it on special occasions,” said his mother. “I always make mansaf for our big feast, Eid al-Adha.”
“It looks delicious,” said Brian’s mother. “I can’t wait to taste it.”
 |
|---|
“I’m sure it’s no weirder than cranberry sauce.” |
Brian’s father cleared his throat. “Before we eat, our family tradition is to go around the table and say what we’re thankful for,” he explained. “I’ll start. I’m thankful I didn’t ruin the turkey.”
Everyone laughed.
“I’m thankful for my wonderful family and for such nice new friends,” said Brian’s mother.
Jafar’s father smiled. “I’m thankful for the hospitality you have shown us. In Jordan, hospitality is very important.”
Jafar’s mother turned to Brian. “I’m thankful that Jafar met you. He likes school so much better now.”
Jafar said, “I’m thankful to finally celebrate this mysterious American holiday.”
Brian grinned, then looked around the table. “And I’m thankful to have all of you to share this with.”
“Let’s eat!” said Brian’s father.
Jafar ate three helpings of cranberry sauce, and Brian had seconds of mansaf.
