BMB - A CHRISTMAS CAROL

This post was written in response to a thread suggested by British Mummy Bloggers #BMB 

A TROPICAL CHRISTMAS PAST

My most memorable Christmas was spent on the islands of Vanuatu as a teenager.  Never heard of it?  I hadn't either.  But my dad worked at the agricultural college there for a couple of years in Port Vila, the capital.  I say that glibly but acknowledge how fortunate we were to have had that experience.  Swimming, sunbathing, learning to scuba dive on Hideaway Island, barbecues on the beach and giggling at some of the Pidgin English phrases we'd learnt. Having previously been based in sub-Saharan northern Nigeria for five years, while we four daughters did the boarding school thing, the change of scene was doubly welcome.  It was hot, humid, prone to cyclones and earth tremors and a long, long way away!

As a 17-year-old supposedly studying for my A Levels in between all that sun and sea, I travelled out there with my two younger sisters via Dubai or Singapore, then Sydney, sometimes Brisbane, Noumea and then a tiny 'elastic band' style plane to Port Vila.  We wiled away the minutes waiting for our connecting flights by racing up and down the travelators (I'm sure fellow passengers were impressed!) or spending our pocket money on Duty Free goodies like M & Ms - which you couldn't get in the UK at the time.  Once we finally got there, ignorant about the likes of DVT, the heat hit us in the face like a sauna and the jet lag was something else!

This particular year, my dad was given a suckling pig by some of his colleagues so that we could celebrate it traditional Ni-Vanuatu style.  We dug a pit in the very fertile soil (you pick up these details when your dad's a tropical agriculture nerd!), tossed in some stones and lit a fire on top of them.  While that was taking hold, my mum prepared the meat.  A great cook with a well-thumbed Mrs Beeton tome, I don't think she found a recipe for this, but someone at the Corona women's society (like the W.I.) probably gave her the heads up.  She sprinkled salt on the outside of the pork and stuffed it with apricots and prunes to give it a tropical flavour, then wrapped it in banana leaves.  The bundle was balanced on top of the hot stones and covered in soil to trap the heat like an underground barbecue.  Then the big wait began.....

It secretly simmered for hours as it was too hot to eat a big meal in the middle of the day anyway.  I remember prancing around excitedly in my t-shirt night dress for ages and then we busied ourselves unwrapping presents, ringing the grandparents and my older sister back home to share festive greetings and trying to figure out what time we had to tune in to the World Service for the Queen's Speech.  Of course, we nagged Mum constantly, "Is it ready? Is it ready?"  and dad would go over and prod it with the gardening fork and look like he knew what he was doing!  Then, finally, the moment came.  We could see if it had worked.  What if it was inedible?  The soil might have got into the package or maybe it was still raw.  The dangers of salmonella!  Whose idea was it to put prunes, of all things, inside it anyway?

Well, it was the most tender meat I've ever tasted and, prunes aside (literally, on my plate anyway!), it was a good job we liked it because there was so much left over it almost filled the freezer.  And somehow, a traditional turkey wouldn't have worked in those sunny climes without snow and carols, sherry and mince pies.  Our secretly simmered suckling pig was super special.  And I think that's what Christmas is about.  Not getting your family and friends exactly what they want as presents but making memories.  From the sentimental Christmas tree decorations your kids have crafted to the carefully chosen crackers (we've gone for posh London ones this year) and table decorations, it's about setting the scene for the anticipation of something special.  Then waiting and waiting until, finally, the big moment arrives.  Merry Christmas fellow bloggers!