A Guatemalan Thanksgiving
The turkey was locked in the bathroom. It had pooped everywhere. But we´re getting ahead of ourselves… let´s begin from the beginning.
Pete and Pete, our two new friends from Minnesota, bought a live turkey at the market for 175Q (about $25). It spent a happy day living in their bathroom, nestled under the sink.
Pete and Pete had killed chickens, pheasants and even a dove before and explained to us that they had learned this skill from their fathers who had learned it from their fathers, who had learned it from their fathers. They are very Minnesotan.
We arrived at their (and Zil´s) house just in time to say our last goodbye to the bird, whom they had dubbed San Marcos. The three of us (Megan, Zil, and Sarah) huddled outside the bathroom with our cameras as Pete and Pete soothed San Marcos by stroking its feathers before tying its legs together. Then they put the little poppet in a bag and brought it outside. As we all hovered over the Petes and San Marcos with our cameras, the boys wrung our feathered friend´s neck. It was like wringing out a wet towel. Then, since it hadn´t quite bit it, they cut off its oxygen supply for several minutes. This all resulted in San Marcos becoming quite dead.
Or so it seemed.
Pete #1 started to string the bird up by its legs in order to aid the loosening of the feathers… or some such thing. As he stood holding the bird, which had been really quite dead for about 5 minutes, the bird let out a final frenzy of wing-flapping. It´s poor snapped neck hadn´t quite killed off the brain´s desire to flee from danger. It was like in those horror movies when someone has been dead for several moments when suddenly their grayish hand grabs the pretty girl and everybody in the audience screams. In this case, Zil screamed and ran away. Sarah didn´t scream, but did run away. And Megan stared intently.
The next morning, Thanksgiving day, we ran into Zil on our way to school. She showed us a picture of a freshly plucked San Marcos and informed us that Pete and Pete had been working on derobing our friend all morning. They had done a magnificent job.
We then spent the afternoon listening to an ex-guerrilla talk about the Guatemalan civil war, shopping in the outdoor market for camotes (yams), and then whipping up some scrumptious candied camote surprise to bring to the evening´s festivities.
All in all it was a wonderful Thanksgiving. We ate with a bunch of other language students from different schools who all had a connection to someone who lived with Pete, Pete, and Zil in “Yoga House.” We ate stuffing, mashed potatoes, pies, green bean casserole topped with funyons, gravy, and, of course, San Marcos, who was particularly tasty.
So, here´s a final “thank you” for good food, good pheasant like creatures, and all the very good people that we´ve met on our travels.
-Megan and Sarah
Tags: American Identity, Guatemala, Photography, Quetzaltenango, Thanksgiving, Travel, Turkey, Xela
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Mame thinks it’s great that you were in a house with other people for Thanksgiving and admires your courage. She’s glad you have each other. Linda has just vowed to become a vegetarian again. Pape has no comment and thinks we should zip it, I think. He’s enjoying it as well.
I’m glad to know you are still healthy and eating food that doesn’t have ground bones in it. I have to say, I’m a little concerned about Megan’s reaction to the second coming of San Marcos, but as long as she looks after you, I’m willing to overlook a fascination with turkey killing.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Wow. What can be said. As usual with your amazing blog entries, it is not the SEEMINGLY amazing and unbelievable thing that surprises, but the secret, hidden unbelievable thing that continues to boggle the mind hours after the entry has been read. Pete . . . AND Pete. Pete and Repeat. Killing a Turkey. And killing it AGAIN. I just can’t get over it. I just can’t get over it. I just can’t get . . . oh. Sorry. I’ve repeated that already.
Our t-giving was very tame. We had two “heritage” turkeys which Miss K purchased at the fair food stand in the Reading Terminal Market. This means basically that these were wild turkey-ish creatures, like the one Squanto gave the pilgrims back in the day. Which brings me to the only unbelievable thing that happened to us on Thanksgiving day. We were playing Boggle with our pals. One of whom was drawing “frisk” for the benefit of another. It went on and on, long past the time the sand ran out. Finally we got it — and we all admired the picture, which was of a policeman searching the pockets of a gentleman. When suddenly, before our very eyes, the picture TRANSMOGRIFIED into a near-perfect rendition of Squanto handing a turkey to a Pilgrim. It was unbelievable. All that frenzied attempt to draw “frisk,” and the whole time she had been rendering a truly realist picture of the very so-called historical event that we were supposedly celebrating. We were all so amazed that we had to sign and date the picture right there. Someday I will show it to you.
In the meantime, I am totally amazed by your studly dudeliness, and I am very glad that San Marcos was tasty, bless his wattle.
kisses! b
be concerned. be very concerned…
Ok, having been concerned, be thankful. Be very thankful. In all, the turkey who keeps on living, keeps on giving. Thanks that is. I think.
I spent the day in Park Slope with my friend Sally, her two children, and 14 of their friends. Her wonderful husband Gary had died in late September, so it was a day to keep on living, keep on giving thanks, and remembering those who are elsewhere — all kinds of elsewheres — with a sense of many returns.
so much love to you two adventuresses — long may you thrive, and many happy returns,
becca
Rule #1. Never name a pet you are going to eat.
Your thanksgiving sounds wonderful and I can’t help but wonder if you held hands at the table and took turns sharing whatever it is you are thankful for. Had I been there, I would have given thanks for YOU. I was so sad that the phone connection was bad but excited to hear your voice even for a minute.
We had a nice thanksgiving at Lake Tenkiller. I shared a condo with Connie and Tom, enjoyed seeing Sarah’s beautiful children and vistied with Kate and Phil. A good thanksgiving. missed you and Austen, tho’.
I will work on the tasks you requested today.
Love to you both.
mom
holy crap. I’ve often said (in sonorous tones) that those who eat meat should be willing to kill it themselves. Good for you. Given that my reaction to the whole thing would have been tears and the luxury of trauma (which really only the rich-disassociated-from-the work-of-food-production can afford) I’m reconsidering vegetarianism, another luxury. Thank you for bringing me back to awareness of my own hypocrisy and the opportunity to reflect again on being a thankful person and on the virtue of striving to be sometimes honest. Love to both of you adventurers! Lool.
Hi all,
For the record, I’m not fascinated with turkey killing, just tough and impervious to fear, excepting, of course, a fear of spiders. And, Sarah wanted me to add, flies that might be mistaken for spiders and any and all insects that resemble spiders in any way.
Although we had a good Thanksgiving, we missed you all something terrible. We’re happy to hear that everyone had good Thanksgivings as well. We’re grateful for the best friends and family anyone could hope for.
-Megan and Sarah
I’m glad to hear the clarification on the turkey killing thing… and that you’re tough. All good.
I relate to the spiders too.
Especially, I’m happy to know you two had a great holiday–even though I think San Marcos looked more like a pheasant than the real thing.
The Petes did have a certain American Expat Gothic about them, though.
One more thing… where are you and S going to be on the 8th (her b-day)? Inquiring minds want to know.
Several things. First, hearing your sweet voice on T-day was a real treat. You sounded very happy; very alive. Thanks for calling. Second, I agree with your mom’s advice not to name a pet you’re going to eat. It reminded me of a friend who told the story of growing up on a farm and his parents made him name his pet pig Lunch. Come Easter Sunday, no one was upset when it was time to eat Lunch. He told it for true and I always believed him. Last, today I have the CD by Gillian Welch playing softly while I get reacquainted with my 9-5 day. Nice rhythm, nice sound. Sounds like your holiday was definitely something to remember. That makes me happy.
Hello, funny-faces. I remember the post-mortem flappings of chickens from my childhood — I’ll take spiders any day! In between the two-leggeds and the eight-leggeds, let us consider the four-leggeds. Namely, your own four-legged. Tonight I lay flat on the floor and in that position she suffered me to pet her side, her head and her tummy while she kept an eye out for all the strange things and strange sounds that this house is full of. Mostly she hides behind the bookcases in my little upstairs writing room all day, and holds dominion over the house by night. There is, unfortunately, trauma coming her way once again, because for several days before Christmas her very own chosen sanctum will be taken over by Lool, Ceej, one border collie and one very bossy (I am told) tiny beagle. This is going to seriously add insult to injury, because the basement is a construction site complete with poundings, scrapings, strangers emerging up the stairs and going back down (thus the lock on the basement door that Loki told you about in her earlier epistle — that’s because the outside door to the basement is open a good deal of the time.) Loki is going to need intensive love therapy when you come home to overcome the stresses of this place. Unfortunately, her favorite place other than behind the bookcases upstairs is spread out in full glory on my kitchen counter. I started out to insist she obey my rules about that, but with Nellie hissing at her, the builders startling her with poundings, and the absence of her High Servants Numbers One and Two, I decided, What the hell, I can clean the counter every morning. I think she knows i don’t like it. She clearly knows the word, “NO”, but I don’t use it much — at least not in an angry tone of voice. She’s just plain got enough to deal with. Her one triumph has been catching mice. We didn’t know we had any — she has caught three.
Well, loves, that’s all for tonight. Happy days — we love you madly.
G’ma
NOBODY tells stories like you two. Glad you had a happy thanksgiving. Going home for Xmas won’t be the same w/o you guys in SF.