The International Institute in St. Louis threw a series of early Thanksgiving dinners for students and tutors yesterday.

Here are a few pictures from the event.

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I often wonder how people go about deciding which country or countries deserves their allegiance. I suppose if you have lived in one country all your life it wouldn’t matter. However, when you have the special fortune of having dual citizenships then it becomes a topic worth exploration. I am Nigerian.  I was born there. I also have an interesting relationship with the USA. I live here, and I vote here. I am often told by my Nigerian friends and colleagues how American I am. And anytime I attempt to pronounce  “house, hot, and or home”, I am reminded that I am a proud daughter of Oduduwa, and his stamp remains in my syntax.

I had the opportunity of spending last evening with a group of individuals learning English and the American culture at the international Institute in St. Louis Missouri. They hail from as far as Bhutan, a little country in the south of Asia and some were Mexicans, our Southern neighbor. I also had a conversation with a Nigerian woman from Ogun State and another from China. They all were interested in America, eager to learn her history and above all so grateful to their teachers and the country that has given them a second chance. For a moment I was touched and I could not help but sing along with everyone to the song that best illustrates the magic that is America.  “This Land”. This land, I hope truly belongs to all of them.

I love Americans, but I never expected to become one, or to like being one. The citizenship was not something I sought nor did I have control over it. My parents gave me a blue passport on my 16th birthday and that was that. I suppose if I had gone through the naturalization process like the men and women in the American citizenship class, I might have felt more comfortable with my American self. Oh I get away with a lot. People already expect me to be loud, obnoxious and fat. So I just shrug away moments when I feel like being loud, obnoxious and fat as my American moments, it suits me well. And whenever I find my self in Nigeria, any rudeness to the elders is automatically forgiven, this I tell you is a major blessing.

The evening started with a tour of the Institute and one thing that arrested my attention was a little poster displaying famous American immigrants. Among them were Albert Einstein, Madeline Albright, and Pulitzer. These individuals like myself immigrated to the United States and were able to create lives that still inspire the world. The evening proceeded predictably. On the main stage was a PowerPoint presentation of flags and snapshots of all countries whose members have migrated to the United States. Turkeys were given out in celebration of thanksgiving and we sang and laughed and clapped. I am especially thankful for a country that invokes hope in the heart of so many. The people who spend their free time teaching others how to make a new life in a new country are the very essence of what makes this country oh so great.

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More importantly, I would spend it in celebration of life, and much more: friends, family, adoptive parents, wonderful colleagues and co-workers, close and loved ones, distant well-wishers, blog readers and commenters, students, plantain chips, pounded yam and pepper soup, NPR, the dollar store, movies, music, Axe detailer, low gas prices in Missouri, eagled-eyed editors, warm socks, languages, smiling strangers, awesome classmates, amazing teachers, fast internet, long distance phone calls, Amazon.com, Skype, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, BreadCo, and the very many things and people that make live worth living.

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You have been there all this while, so I am taking this time to thank you, yes you, because you have been reading this travelogue from the very beginning, and you because you joined in the middle and have stayed committed, and to you because you come in occasionally without leaving comments, but you leave with a smile, a giggle, a laugh or any other pleasant thought. You come in to rate the articles, invisibly, give them thumbs up, and then refer the articles to your friends to read. You, yes you even share my links on Facebook or retweet them on Twitter. Hmmm. What can I say but thanks? I thank you, and I appreciate your sometimes invisible but always reassuring presence. One day, I hope to list all the locations around the world where you have viewed this site from, and maybe also mention you all who have has left a comment at least once, or you who have talked to me behind the scenes, pointing me to a wrongly spelt word in a hurriedly-written post, just as an appreciation to your efforts and time. I am very grateful: friends, family, critics, and acquaintances.

Today in America, everyone of us will gather around dinner tables to devour family meals of the season set aside to thank the Lord for the harvest of the year.  The anniversary began by the very first immigrants on the continent after their first harvest, and it has continued since. President Abraham Lincoln it was who decreed that it would take place on every last Thursday in November.

Back home, we have the Odún Ìkórè, which is a similar thanksgiving get-together of families and friends, but which usually takes place late in the harmattan/winter season, just around Christmas. I have attended a few of them in the Anglican church with my late paternal grandfather, and it was always nice: plenty food, palm wine, and a harvest barzar after the church service. I am also aware that back home today in Nigeria, there is the Moslem holiday to celebrate a different festival. I have a living grandfather for whom that is also day of joy and celebration with his immediate and extended family.

Here for me as a blogger ghoul in a stranger forest of a distant land, my harvest is both that of the success of this blog, the joy of the Fulbright programme and this travel experience, and the happiness it has brought me through the friends, fans and admirers that I have made though the medium. I thank you all, and wish you a very happy, and a very very pleasant celebration. As long as you’re there, I will be here, pleased in the warmth of your reading eyes.

-ktravula

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I woke up today with an overwhelming sense of lassitude which has characterized my Thursday mornings. I have named them lethargic because they are usually the day of the week when I’m most useless to myself and to society. For the past three months, I have spent the better part of this day in bed with my earphone in my ears and a laptop on my lap. Or sometimes on the sofa flipping through the interminable channels on American television. Maybe it is from working all day on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesdays till late in the night, but whenever I wake up on Thursday, I only think of getting back into bed. Today is one of those days, and minus a little occasional effort around the bathroom and towards the door to get delivery of ordered food, I have been indoors.

It could be the cold, the gradually reducing temperature. It could also be the change in seasons that makes sure that it is already dark by 3pm. It is mostly the fact that I don’t usually have any campus obligation on Thursdays. And to cap up the already lazy week is the fact that next week is totally work-free. Yes indeed. By this time next week, we will be celebrating the annual Thanksgiving Holiday in the United States. It is however a week-long holiday that ensures that no one goes to school or work. Everyone stays at home to eat, drink and be merry. For my apartment, it will be very lonely as my two American housemates are heading home. It will be this traveller alone in the large apartment, pondering time, paces and spaces. This is usually a time when poetry descends from its high realm of the heavens. It will definitely be a long week.

It could also be the withdrawal symptoms from the open spaces of Chicago. Truly, my Thursdays are usually lethargic, but this particular level of slowness is unprecedented and could only have resulted from my three days on Chicago’s streets. So what if I had spent a week there, or even a month? I probably would never have wanted to return here in a hurry. That city is endearing in a way that is not too pushy, yet it entices. I can’t say the same of Lagos, Nigeria where I usually always seek to escape from at the slightest opportunity. Next month will find me in Washington DC, New York (probably) and the state of Maryland. It will be a chance to compare the differences in the behaviour of big cities. Of course, thinking only of the cold, I would probably just wish that I can stay here in Edwardsville where somehow I’ve been able to adjust to the gradually lowering temperature.

I need ideas of something fun to do for one whole week, besides the Turkey-eating activities of Thursday which will take place as scheduled in the right homes of my host parents at Edwardsville.

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