Growing Up in Williamsport, Ohio

​Thanksgiving in Brazil
 
Around 1970, I had a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving in Brazil. Brazilians didn’t land on Plymouth Rock. Nor did they celebrate Thanksgiving a year later with Indians so there is no Thanksgiving celebration in Brazil. Because there isn’t a holiday, all of the American missionaries on the seminary campus got together every year for a Thanksgiving dinner. When it was over, we returned to our usual obligations. Since it was a regular school day, I had to teach an English class afterward. 
 
The mission director’s wife always orchestrated the event, and it was held in their house. The only turkeys in Brazil were wild ones and they were tough. Because of that we always had roast chicken with all of the trimmings that were available. She always provided an elegant ambiance with music and her best china. We had a Thanksgiving prayer by the mission director. Sometimes we sang a song, or our children put on a small program. The result was the same as in the States. It was a wonderful meal with the only family we had in Brazil….our mission family.
 
“I couldn’t eat another bite,” I said, as I headed up the sidewalk to teach my English class. It consisted of about fifteen students. Several were Japanese, some Portuguese, African and various others. Many of these same students had been in classes that I had previously taught. When I opened the door to the classroom, it was to a chorus of “Surprise!”. Eunice Fujisaka said, “We knew this was a special day for you, so we asked the cooks to help us prepare a party for you. I made candy covered peanuts. The cooks made “pasteis” (little, fried meat pies) and we have popcorn.”
 
Saito, with a gleam in his eyes, chimed in, “Do you remember the Japanese goodies that I brought to the student international party? I had the lady who made them make some more for this class.” Boy, did I remember! At the international party, he had put one on each of my three daughters’ plates, and of course, I had t o take one. I ended up with four of those lumps on my plate, which ultimately felt like four rocks in my stomach. They were reddish brown sweet bean candies that I never wanted to taste again but it was obvious that I would taste them again at this Thanksgiving party (no offense to any Japanese person reading this story).
 
I really appreciated the students’ thoughtfulness and celebrated Thanksgiving again with them. They never knew that I could not eat another bite. I was thankful for the privilege of being in Brazil and for my students. And as it was at the first Thanksgiving, the Indians came and shared food with a pilgrim. Together we raised our pewter mugs (aluminum cups from the school cafeteria) that were filled with punch. Our toast was to our respective homelands, “Viva os Estados Unidos! Viva Brasil!”
 
Oh, in case you want to try these Japanese sweets, here is the recipe for Red Bean Dessert
 
7 ½ ounces of canned crushed red-bean paste
2 tablespoons plus 2/3 cup water
7 1/3 ounces of rice flour (shiratama)
Sugar for sprinkling, optional
 
Cook the red-bean paste with 1 to 2 tablespoons of water over medium heat. Cool. Place the rice flour in a bowl and gradually add the remaining 2/3 cup of water mixing with your fingers until you have a smooth dough. Form the dough into a large ball. Break and roll into 1-inch balls or squares. Flatten and make a small depression in the center of each. Sprinkle with sugar if desired.
 
 ©Marilyn Francis Ferguson 2020
Photography/graphics by Michele Ferguson Schuck