My friend Denis happened to stop by on his way from the
airport. He had come to the US from Uganda for a month’s training with The Navigators. It was Halloween and as it happened we were
in the middle of carving pumpkins when the doorbell rang. Denis came in with effusive greetings. Then he saw the pumpkins.
“What in the world are you doing?”
“We are carving pumpkins.
Do you know Halloween?” Denis
shook his head. He was staring at the
pile of pumpkin guts and half-carved faces.
I explained: “This is a tradition in the US where the children dress up in
costumes and go door to door begging for candy.” Denis let his glasses slip down his nose in
disbelief.
He said, “But you are playing with your food.”
“This is the land of plenty," I replied. "We can play with our food.”
“But I have never seen such a thing.”
“Oh, there’s more,” I said, carving out a toothy grin
on my pumpkin palette. This is the night
we celebrate the dead. It’s full of
ghosts and goblins and ghouls and coffins and spiders and skeletons and people
decorate their front yards to look grave yards.
It’s all good fun.”
“Yeah, well, okay,” he said.
“You celebrate the dead by playing with your food. This place never ceases to amaze me.”
He stuck around long enough to see the pumpkins in the
deepening dusk with candles inside, glowing in their goofy-faced glory. “What do you think?”
“You know,” he said, “I think I am hungry for some fresh
squash.”
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