Celebrating Thanksgiving?

Thanksgiving came and went. The thought of making a special pancake, home-fries and scrambled egg breakfast, with some French Press coffee, did briefly grace my mindscreen, which is otherwise set on an auto-change mode. But, I decided against it, realising the futility of tabling the  spirit of Thanksgiving in the tropics, especially when it has been pouring non-stop for three days!

My memory however, did bring back flashes of those myriad Thanksgivings, which mainly revolved around binging on mouthwatering ensemble of beans and mushroom casseroles, apple pies, pumpkin soup, corn breads with cranberry sauce, roasted potatoes with Rosemary, sweet potatoes topped with maple syrup, pecans, and cinnamon, and last but not the least, turkey stuffing (being a vegetarian, I didn't care for the centrepiece of the dining table).  Despite the fact that it was a much sought after holiday, and we all partook in the feast, and decked the walls of the house up with drawings of Pilgrims and Mayflower our son had drawn as a kid, I couldn't help but be reminded of the lost faces of the native Americans, the  Cherokees, Sioux, Dakotas, Mohawks, and 560 some federally recognised brave tribes of original inhabitants of the continent, made homeless in their own country, strangers in their own homeland. Many a news items flashed through my mind,  highlighting the alienation syndrome, several youngsters in the reservations faced,  shedding light on discrimination meted out to those few who tried to mingle with the mainstream America. In fact, the growing number of suicides in reservations across America and Canada, has, in recent years, reached an alarming rate.  Disenfranchised by a system, they are reduced to mere statistics vis-à-vis poverty, homelessness, substance abuse, and unemployment, caused by their geographical and cultural isolation. Straddled between two worlds, theirs, which is grounded in deep respect for the rhythms of Nature, and our own consumerist one,  based on the constantly changing tides of capitalism, they find it hard to strike a balance.

So, if the first Thanksgiving represented the symbiotic relationship between the natives and the pilgrims, where people of two cultures had come together to celebrate the bountiful harvest, the present one is a sad reminder of  the parasitic  nature of the colonists who rid the land of its indigenous people, and all but eradicated their culture. Is it a wonder then that across many reservations, this holiday is observed as the National Day of Mourning? Chief Joseph's tragic last words, who after being pursued by the American army in a 2,000 kms fighting retreat, and after months of fugitive resistance,  was coerced into surrendering, hang heavy  in the humid monsoon air:

"Hear me my chiefs. I am tired; my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more."

Chief Joseph and his band of 700 men, women, and children were just 60 kms from the Canadian border, just 60 kms from freedom...

Mindful of the struggles that the native communities have endured, and are still grappling with, we could take a humble attitude towards this holiday, and pay hommage to those millions of native people, who lost their lives fighting for their own freedom, in 'The Land of the Free and  Home of the Brave'.