What A Wonder Is Christmas

Anniversaries have a wonderful charm for most children. Because of their youthfulness, the passage of a year holds so much for them and the markers of a year that matter are festivals. Of course, birthdays are usually the most important, but for Christian children the next is usually Christmas. I hope that I wont offend my non-Christian friends by my not referring to whatever holidays they celebrate towards the end of a calendar year. I was brought up with the sparkle in the eyes of children at the prospect of Santa Claus arriving on the night of Christmas Eve, with his sleigh laden and his reindeer panting with excitement as they rushed around to every house to drop off the gifts before morning.


Growing up in the Caribbean, we never bothered with the contradictions of a chubby, red-faced Caucasian, heading from Greenland, over snow-covered landscapes to get to our warm lands in his heavy fur-lined coat. We did not worry about notions of Santa coming down our chimneys, even though most of us never had any idea of what was a indoor fireplace and a mantelpiece. We did not see anything amiss with images of ornament laden fir trees--we usually saw some of those even if only in a public square or a big house--but if they were in the snow near a snowman then that was part of the joyous image. Santa would descend and have his milk and cake. He would leave soot on the ground. Gifts would arrive and all the mystery was not for us to resolve. What did logic have to have with fantasy?


Of course, the point arrived when we would stop believing; for some that came abruptly when a a so-called friend broke the news that Santa was not real. Usually, it was because they had seen their father dressing up as Santa. Or they had seen their parents sneaking to put presents under a tree and then scamper back to bed. Once the spell was broken it was just a matter of could one hold on to the myth for a little longer.


Not everyone grew up with the tradition of exchanging gifts. Often, in poor countries, it was a major effort to put something special on the dining table for Christmas Day. Thankfully, the joys of home cooking did most of what was needed as the fruits that had been soaking in wine or rum all year were given the chance to bless our palettes as slices of delicious cake. Or, we would get the taste of a wonderfully baked and glazed ham. But, it could also just have been a chicken and having more than just a slice or a wing. I wont pretend to not having confused my cultures, having lived in the UK from a young age. So, things like stuffing seem to have been part of Christmas for ever. So too was a real Christmas pudding--sticky, dark and richly-filled with fruit--and mince pies dusted with icing sugar. I know that these things are part of the Caribbean Christmas as many older people produce them in quantity each year, using recipes handed down over the decades.


Then, we had the drinks. For my family, it was always sorrel and ginger, and I remember so well my mother cleaning the sorrel bush, with the twigs falling around her legs. We children never got the full flavour as our sorrel contained no alcohol, but it was still a great drink, with its redness seeming to be so much a part of Christmas. (You can imagine my heartbreak when this week the arrivals from Jamaica had their sorrel and ginger taken away by Customs officials.) Later, things like egg nog came on the scene. At some places, it was also the time for sherry.


Yet, while the excitement of presents arriving for Christmas was very real, it was for me about present that came from nowhere: they were magically summoned each year. I still find it hard to accept that you have to go to shop and buy presents. I hold onto the myth that Santa does play a part. When I watch the scurrying to buy and wrap I still wonder at what I see. I know that the notion of giving has more than one time and place so find the frenzy in December more than a little odd. It has no impulsiveness, but has a lot of compulsiveness. But, I am no longer a child so know that from my eyes I cannot really see right. I just look at my littlest child, as presents pile under the tree and she tries to guess what they are. She, at six, clearly knows that Santa only does a part of the giving. Does she prize his gifts more? Hard to say.


Now that most of the children are asleep and having that last dream before the sound of reindeer hoofs pound the roof, I hope that I can go back and imagine Christmas as a child and see its sparkle again.

Whether the sparkle is really a glorious light, or just a dull flicker, I will hope that it is bright enough to shine on the eyes of any children you see and show that they are having a wonderful Christmas time.

Wishing everyone a very merry Christmas.

Hey, Santa, Where's Your Reindeer?

Caller: Hello, Mr. Jones?
Blogger: Yes.
Caller: This is the Living Waters Community. Could you help us and be Santa for a weekend?
Blogger: Of course. When?
Caller: Next Saturday and Sunday.

So it began. A call to help with 'Christ in Christmas', to be held at the Lloyd Erskine Sandiford Centre. I had only a few days to put on 30 pounds. I had anticipated such a need but was going to have problems as I had a few tennis games scheduled. I did not want to put the weight on with beer, though it was tempting. I gave up and told myself that I would have to be myself. I need not have feared. All was ready for me as I arrived for my first evening session. Santa costume? Sure: pure polyester. Santa boots? Check. Slip on plastic leggings. Santa hair? Yes. Fluffy white nylon. Santa beard? Of course, and all the hairs gravitate into your mouth so do not try to eat and drink with it on. Santa gloves? Check. Belt? Yep. Hat with bobble? Betcha!

I did my first stint on Saturday evening and another at noon on Sunday. If I had thought it was hot inside all that synthetic material, I had no idea it would be SO hot. I felt sweat rolling down my chest from the moment I put on my suit. One I packed on my 'stomach' (not duck down pillow), I was a waddling duck, for true. Down the stairs I went, like at a ball, bell ringing and "Ho, ho, ho," rolling off my tongue. Children looked up and smiled, or ran for cover. Once I was in my 'grotto', the flow of children and parents wanting to talk to Santa moved steadily. All the parents seemed to think that putting on a broad grin would make their child smile and if that did not work then putting up rabbit ear fingers would do the trick. Wrong! I told a few of them to just take a stroll and leave the kids to play with my bell; they usually made themselves happy and smiled naturally.

A few adults kept on walking past, looking longingly at my beard. Those who dared to speak made clear that they were looking for something from Santa: "You have an envelope for me?" one lady asked. She was not put off by no several times and gave me a story about how the recession had been hard. Children, of course, wanted to get into Santa's good books. They asked where I lived and how I would know their houses. Some wanted to check that I was real and would not be happy till they had a pull on my beard. "Ouch!" I yelled, and that seemed to stall them. Some wanted to be sure that I was not suffering and offered to get me some of the samples on offer: baked ham, black cake, even a cappuccino. As I mentioned, though, eating with nylon beard dressing is not fun. I could listen to the parang music without problems but had to resist ringing my bell at the same time.

But, the children who spoke to Santa or had their pictures taken with him (with or without their parents) were all happy. The little ones with cats painted on their faces were not worried when Santa offered to take them to the North Pole to help make gifts, and held my hand and headed for my sleigh. You have to love the trusting mind of a child and their capacity for belief in people who seem good and kind.

The pictures of Santa and his friends will be posted shortly on the Barbados Island Photos site.

Thirty Bahamians, One Hundred Fried Dumplings, Five Gold Rings and A Jitney

Family time should be the best of all. That explains why my wife's family spend an enormous amount of time in each other's company. At Christmas, this comes by the bucket load with dinners, visits to church, visitors dropping in, and a bunch of excuses to all hang around each other's necks. One tradition that has developed in recent years is to take this to "another level". The family has planned for the past five or so years a "dine and dash" progressive meal. In previous years, it was in the afternoon and was a roving dinner, ending at the house that houses the dessert queens who work under the title of 'Julie Blanche Desserts'. This year, things got a bit radical. I was not in on the planning but I heard that it was a breakfast theme. Now, a lot of these folks are not morning people, and I mean NOT morning people. So, when I heard that we were due to convene at 8.45am, a time that is like midday to us, I thought, 'This I have to see."

Here's how it's supposed to work. The family, in its various parts, meets at the house where the 'dine and dash' will end, and from there it takes a bus, or in Bahamian parlance, a jitney.Now, the list included about 30 people; I neither counted or needed to know precisely, as I had geared up to feed that number or near to it. The group then leaves the last spot--a bit insane when you realise that we have not yet eaten, yet we leave behind a bunch of grub and bounce around in a bus with the promise that "you will come back for the food that is here." What kind of madness is that? These are not Jamaicans, for sure. The trip gets better as we roll along because at the end of each stop we sing two additional verses of "The Twelve Days of Christmas".

So, what was the big dig-in going to have? Stop one: coffee and Mimosas at a house out east, occupied by one of this year's newly weds. First off, the jitney driver was not told early enough where to turn so we had to go back. Our version of Lewis Hamilton ripped the bus into reverse and started a manoeuvre into some one's yard, when there was a collective "Yiiiieeeee! Whoooaa!" from the back of the bus. I knew what had happened: a bunch of the 'I need one thousand yard clearance' crowd though the bus was going to hit a poinsettia. Our Formula One jockey got out of his seat. "Listen, y'all. This boat only has one captain and you looking at him." A Bahamian and crushed pride is not a pretty sight; worse still half a bus load. "Well, make sure that the boat don't capsize!" hollered a wag. 'Hamilton' stretched to his full length now: "This ain't no PLP [opposition party, last government] boat; it's not turning over!" That silenced about half the island, because this busload was full of supporters of the new FNM government. "Yea! I think we straight wi' this driva." came a happy voice from deep in the back.

Well, I am a champagne snob and if it's not a good Tattinger or Veuve Clicqout, or Dom Perignon, then I know that we joking, but I'm happy to go along for the laugh. My wife and I have earned our life stripes so we don't joke on these things. The newly weds did alright, and as they have a newly baked bun coming out of the oven in a few months, we know that the dollars are being well spent elsewhere.

One thing about some people in this region is that we are slow adaptors. Having messed up the driver once--and mind you he's being directed by people to their own home now--they only mess the man up a second time and get him to turn too early. 'Hamilton' looked like 'Sterling Moss' as his hair dropped out with fury. Next turn, then. OK. Stop two: fruit at the house of the second set of newly weds. Notice, no real cooking so far from the marriage neophytes. Yummy, munchy, fresh Caribbean (NOT) grapes, with Florida (NOT Caribbean) oranges, and wonderfully red (NOT Caribbean) strawberries. Have to tell them that next year it's 'native' or nothing, even if I have to get my Dad to ship them Ortaniques from Mandeville. How CSME and Caricom can hold together with this slackness?

Stop three: pastries and muffins at the Julie Blanche 'factory'.Well, these people never have a shortage of food, now. So, we had to deduct points because they added things to the buffet that were not part of the prescribed menu: yes, it was delicious sweet potato bread, and yes there were many more types of muffins than were needed for a 10 minute stop, but stop it, now. Excess means one thing to a Bahamian and I heard "Why you come on this trip with that little bag, girl?" and I knew "ferl" was on its way. Just a little som-un for the ride. Wrap, fold, twirl; four slices of potato bread nicely bundled.

The people had been getting on my case for a little while about stop four. "Hey, we are going to get 'sword' fish, but he Jamaican so he can' say that prop'ly; he call it 'salted' fish."..."Why he only cooking part of a meal? Where the pear and the ackee?"..."What are these 'dumperlings' anyway, do they have apple in them?" My Sherpa had been out scouting for the essential dried salted cod of quality and quantity; sure she bought twice as much as I wanted but I suspect that subliminally she wanted me to make lots so that she could feast on it later. She has no idea what ti takes to clean all that fish. So, soak, then boil, then skin the fish I did last night. Then chop the onions, and tomatoes and added the black pepper and goat pepper I did last night. Then cook the cauldron with love and care and sampling I did last night. Then to bed with aching legs and tired hands and head I did last night. Half way there. Before dawn, up did I get to make the dumpling (no 'er' in my cooking): flour, oil, water and more that only my daughters know did I fold together and knead and roll. Then into the frying pan went one load, two loads, three loads...a hundred dumplings made to fill those Bahamian bellies I did this morning. When 6am came I was ready to go back to bed. But to bed I did not go.

You see trouble early. "Take two dumplings," I said, so the first four people took three each and then someone took five. One hundred divided by thirty equals three carry ten... "Oooh, he can cook, now"..."I packing some for my husband; he loves this"..."Please leave some to the side for me when I come by later, please". Roly-poly, Humpty Dumpties left my mother-in-laws house with as good a view of Jamaica as I could ever wish for.

Onto the beginning again for the end. I had heard about this treat for a few days so was really intrigued. Stop five: waffles, strawberries, fried chicken, coconut chicken. All served by the grand space of Lake Cunningham. Roll me over, lady. The silence was deafening as the people got all their wishes to come true. I bowed to the chefs.

Severe cases of 'black man's disease' started to show themselves as eyes drooped and calls for whist partners fell on deaf ears. The Law would take none of this and out she came with the mega-version of 'Scrabble' and the dictionary; she was geared up. It was a surreal game with words made up out of the recipe book of urban slang, but no one really cared. In the background, children tried to drown themselves by falling off the dock into the lake, or break limbs by playing bouncing tag inside the trampoline net. Some of us tried to be athletic and play a version of wind-assisted badminton on a court amidst the bromeliads and palms and rockeries; nimbleness was on show.

We sang the last verses of "The Twelve Days" and then had a prayer read by one of the children, with perfect diction and great feeling. God's in his heaven, all's right with the world.

So, by about 2.30pm, breakfast was over. How could we pretend that we had not had a great time. I suggested that we carry on by drawing lots and descending on the chosen homes to eat whatever was available; many laughed nervously in case this idea got hold. Maybe next year. For now, we can just dash along and think about dining the same way next year.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I have spoken or tried to speak (or sign) all of the languages below at some time in my life! (If you did not realize it, Breton, Cornish and Welsh are related.) Thanks to my African friends who introduced me to some of their tongues. Thanks to my Norwegian "cousins" for visiting the Caribbean and also allowing me to meet up again centuries later. Thanks for an absence of fear in trying to say at least "Hello" and "Thank you" whereever I travel. Thanks to my parents for never letting me think that the colour of my skin had anything to do with anything except the colour of my skin. Thanks to all those people I have met who had never met a black man before and now know that we are a lot like them.

The world is really small and languages are one of its barriers. Let's try to get over them little by little with seasonal greetings (see a much longer list of Christmas greetings that will help).

American Sign Language

Arawak - Aba satho niw jari da'wisida bon

Breton - Nedeleg laouen na bloav ezh mat

Cantonese - Seng Dan Fai Lok, Sang Nian Fai Lok

Carib - Sirito kypoton ra'a

Cornish - Nadelik looan na looan blethen noweth

Creole/Seychelles - Bonn e Erez Ane

Dutch - Vrolijk Kerstfeest en een Gelukkig Nieuwjaar!

Estonian - Rõõmsaid Jõulupühi ja Head uut aastat

French - Joyeux Noël et Bonne Année!

German - Fröhliche Weihnachten und ein glückliches Neues Jahr!

Greek - Kala Christougenna Ki'eftihismenos O Kenourios Chronos

Hausa - Barka da Kirsimatikuma Barka da Sabuwar Shekara!

Igbo - Ekelere m gi maka Keresimesi na ubochi izizi afo ozo

Irish - Nollaig Shona Dhuit

Italian - Buon Natale e Felice Anno Nuovo

Japanese - Shinnen omedeto. Kurisumasu Omedeto

Latin - Pax hominibus bonae voluntatis

Latvian - Prieci'gus Ziemsve'tkus un Laimi'gu Jauno Gadu!

Malagasy - Arahaba tratry ny Krismasy

Norweigan/Nynorsk - eg ynskjer hermed dykk alle ein god jul og godt nyttår

Norweigan/Bokmål - God Jul og Godt Nyttår

Polish - Wesolych Swiat i Szczesliwego Nowego Roku.

Russian - Pozdrevlyayu s prazdnikom Rozhdestva i s Novim Godom

Spanish - Feliz Navidad y Próspero Año Nuevo

Swahili - ºKrismas Njema Na Heri Za Mwaka Mpyaº

Turkish - Noeliniz Ve Yeni Yiliniz Kutlu Olsun

Welsh - Nadolig LLawen a Blwyddyn Newydd Dda

Yoruba - E ku odun, e ku iye' dun!

The once a year that is Christmas

Christmas is essentially a religious festival to celebrate the birth of Jesus, but its true meaning has been lost for many people. In the Caribbean the strong influence of Christianity has kept the religious element to the forefront of lives in this region. Whatever else happens at Christmas it really revolves around the religous celebration. It is a time for giving and receiving which takes on a some special shape where I spend Christmas, in Nassau.

Christmas Eve is the final time to prepare for Christmas Day. Last minute shopping is essential for some even with weeks of shopping already done. The food preparation starts and takes up most of the day. The house smells wonderful as the seasoned ham and turkey are roasted and fresh bread is baked. We already had a day with the kitchen filled with the smell of "benny cakes" (sesame seeds and caramelized sugar) and "peanut brittle" (peanuts in caramelized sugar).

The long Eve-day ends with a visit to church for midnight mass. Carols precede the service, which means getting to church for 11pm. The mass ends around 2.30am, and is then followed in this family with a visit to a sister of my mother-in-law for chicken souse, sheep tongue souse and Johnny [journey] cake (a kind of flour and cornmeal bread--in other Caribbean countries "Johnny cake" refers to a completely different dish but each based on flour and water). (For non-Bahamians reading, Bahamian souse is hot and is really like a broth with potatoes, celery and onions, not the cold cooked pork dish that is familiar to Bajans.) A wide array of traditions exist for Christmas in terms of events and food and it makes good reading to see how that varies [see BBC web site].)

On Christmas Day morning the young children rise earliest of anyone and make sure that their parents are awake too. Some of the little ones are awake from in the middle of the night. Cookies and milk were already placed ready for Santa's arrival: we tickle the children's imagination and ask if they can see Santa coming on his sleigh or ask if they can tell which reindeer is Donner and which is Blitzen. It takes less than ten minutes for their presents to be unwrapped. Paper flies all over the floor and the gifts get their moments of glory. "Ooh! A bike", "Dora and her own back pack", "Lipstick", "Harry Potter!", "A camera"...

Slowly those who are past their teens appear in their PJs. Grandma and Grandpa take centre stage in the rest of the proceedings, as we all gather near the Christmas tree. Like the children the grandparents' first thoughts are about their gifts. No real exchange of gifts takes place. The tradition with my in-laws is for the daughters in the family to organize a pool to buy one substantial gift for each person. The household is a true queen-dom and the few males who are present are fondly overshadowed by the women. For Christmas gifts we men will get a few items that really please: a tool kit, a radio or a camera make good gifts. But the ladies get the real big set of treats: jewelery, perfumes, earrings, other accessories. I am personally always content with any gift I get and I love to get a bottle of cologne or aftershave. There is nothing that most of us need but plenty that we want and we know that Christmas has become a time for self-indulgence.

Once all the gifts have been opened regular life resumes and we really start on the road toward Christmas dinner. In this family the tradition is to have a rotating location, with all relatives gathering at a designated home. Cooking is shared. Several turkeys and hams are cooked in different homes. My mother-in-law makes macaroni pie. One of her sisters is in charge of peas and rice and baked beans (guarding a family recipe from her father). A third sister, who bakes for a living, is in charge of the array of desserts. We all take charge of eating as much as we can.

After the meal the events are varied. When I first shared Christmas with this family nearly 10 years ago each family would try to give a brief account of what they had achieved or had to deal with over the past year. But this "tradition" seems to have lapsed and a variety of "presentations" now take place, but with no structure. The main thing is that the many branches of the family are together for one day and we are content to share time and to exchange stories.

After all the eating and drinking it's time for rest. The already long day has a long way to go. Junkanoo will start at about 2am so those who want to attend would be wise to get some rest; by the time it ends near 9am many of the spectators are ready to hit their bed.

This family has added another event in recent years: the "dine and dash". The normal meaning of this phrase is to eat a meal and run out of a restaurant without paying (sometimes called "chew and screw" or "doing a runner"). However, our version is almost the opposite and quite honorable. We rent a minibus and take a tour to a few family homes on one of the days after Christmas, taking one course at each stop: appetizers, salads, main course, desserts and coffee. It's a chance to eat something a little more exotic than the traditional Christmas dishes as each family tries to be adventurous and offer something special. The "dine and dash" takes a whole afternoon and has been the source of a few adventures. The first year the minibus got a puncture on our way to the last stop, which this time was home, and we had to be rescued by a wrecker and the busload was ferried in a shuttle of cars.

All of that is enough to wear out the best. But it is all part of a celebration, perhaps over indulgent to some. But celebrations by definition need to be excessive. Christians believe that this time of year, and remembering the birth of Christ, is when they should be excessive about their faith. They and their beliefs get refreshed.

The old year will soon be done and we are again ready to send it out on a high note, which is Christmas. On that high note we will sing our Alleluias.

Christmas: a little history and etymology

Most countries that celebrate Christmas do so on December 25; however, in many countries the main event is Christmas Eve (December 24). The word Christmas originated as a contraction of "Christ's mass". Its origin is from the Middle English word "Christemasse" and the Old English phrase "Cristes mæsse", which was first recorded in 1038 and is a compound from Old English derivatives of the Greek "christos" and the Latin "missa". In early Greek versions of the New Testament, the letter Χ (chi), is the first letter of Christ. Hence, Xmas is often used as an abbreviation for Christmas.

Christmas in the Caribbean

Christmas is special, and very much so in the Caribbean. Not only do we enjoy warm weather when most of the rest of the world is cold, but we also have a way of making the season festive. For most of the past 10 years I have spent the season with my in-laws in Nassau; my wife has never spent Christmas anywhere else. The Bahamas has its unique way of celebrating Christmas and New Year, with the annual street parade-carnival, Junkanoo (see official web site).

Junkanoo is held on the mornings of "Boxing Day (December 26) and New Year's Day (January 1). The events usually last 7 to 8 hours and the participants ("rushers") are exhausted at the end, in part because some of them need some liquid sustenance to keep going; power bars alone don't cut it. We see some of their tired bodies on our way home for breakfast. Whether shaking bells, beating drums of playing brass the body gets a full work out. I have rushed once and it took me days to recover. It's better to be on the street to watch and listen and jump to the beat of the advancing bands, as the goombay drums pound. The bands have "colourful" names (such as "One Family", "Roots", "The Valley Boys", "Saxons", "Fancy Dancers", "Barabas and the Tribe"), and rivalries are intense even within families. Costumes are hand made and only last for one event. It is always a labour of love to cut, glue and paste the costumes and part of the buzz comes from starting a costume late and working madly to get everything finished before the parade. Last year, all hands were involved getting one of my sisters-in-law ready for her first rush.

In Barbados and Jamaica pantomime is still an regular feature of Christmas and we enjoyed a show put on by school children in Barbados before leaving on holiday.

Church is an important part of celebrating the season, and Christmas week will involve many visits to church. However, with little children to deal with we can't all make the late night masses, especially if watching Junkanoo on the streets is part of the plan. We love to sing carols and parties are even better if they have carol singing as well as food, drink and music. The traditional Christmas fare is something we all anticipate greatly: turkey, ham, peas and rice, macaroni pie, etc, plus the desserts like black cakes and guava duff. In Barbados they eat jug-jug and pudding (made from sweet potatoes). You have to accept that there will be a lot of eating and think about sweating off the pounds afterwards. Drinking alcohol in great quantities is done much less these days. But if there is egg nog on offer (whether "leaded" or "unleaded") then you have to take at least one glass.

Christmas is about families getting together and the airports are jammed with returning students and other family members in time for Christmas. They come and go with heavily laden bags. Of course shopping and gift giving take on enormous proportions during the season. But generosity is not limited to family and friends. Many of us will take the time to remember those who have been helpful, even in simply doing their jobs like garbage collectors. Some have developed plans to help families who are needy and have little to enjoy at Christmas.

People who live in North America and Europe love to visit the Caribbean at Christmas time. The weather is an obvious attraction: who could resist temperatures of 28 degrees Celsius, sandy beaches and a relaxed attitude, compared to zero (freezing), snow and ice, and a lot of stiffness? The "snow birds" fill the planes from New York, Toronto, and London, England. A lot of people travel the other way too, especially to Miami and Fort Lauderdale for shopping.We have had the good fortune of being able to take a vacation of at least two weeks every Christmas, and it has been a great time for decompression; our employers have had to understand that Christmas is the most important holiday for us and just deal with it. This year I will have been "off" for a month; taking time off is much easier when you work from home. I spent two weeks in Jamaica with my family (with whom I plan to spend Christmas next year), and will now spend the rest of the time in Nassau.

Children get the most out of Christmas and often cannot wait for Christmas Eve/Christmas Day. "Is Santa here yet, Mummy" is the daily wake up call. I will feed off their excitement.

Everyone who celebrates Christmas deserves to feel that it is a time when people should be especially kind. I hope that people can take that spirit a little bit longer into the new year.

I wish everyone a wonderfully merry Christmas and hope that all will have a very happy New Year.