This Christmas, Hiruni decides to bake a cake
It all began when Hiruni thought she had to make a Christmas cake this year. Hiruni was a woman who could hold varying, different, strong and opposing views on any subject.
Making Christmas cake was one of those subjects.
For years, she had no need to.
When she was a child, her mother made it. After she married, her mother -in-law made it. And this product was so scrumptious, no one else tried to match it. So, Hiruni had it good for many years. Towards the end of her mother-in-law’s life, making Christmas cake became too much of an exertion. The time came when she could not make it any more.
Did Hiruni step up?
She did and she didn’t.
Kindly, she organized the buying of beautifully wrapped cake both for Mum-in-law and for her family.
Her children married and moved out. Some of them made Christmas cake. (Most of them cooked very well, having learned early, because they had to.)
Hiruni also had other reasons for not making cake. There were the years of war; making Christmas cake seemed a travesty at the time.
There was no biblical precedent. Gold, yes, frankincense and myrrh, yes. Cake???
But this year is different.
COVID is … here.
It was here all year.
It might be here at Christmas.
No cause for cheer.
Or, is there?
Christmas carols are played at Hiruni’s at any time after the month of June.
This year was no different. Hirun, her husband, made her a mixed tape of her favourites. Neighbours are fed up of being woken by these strains daily, but Hiruni has no regrets. Sometimes she carols along. Then Hirun does have some.
Hiruni has grandchildren who are all studying online at present. The work is considerable. She sees them seldom but when she does, they are:
All about six feet tall;
Their cheeks have filled out;
Their hair (not subjected to approved school lengths), has grown and sometimes curled.
Their spines are erect. This might explain the six feet tall factor. It is undoubtedly due to children not having to tote a ton of books in their backpacks, daily. This is true. Look around at the young in your vicinity.
The times are difficult for schoolchildren. Classes online take up a significant part of the day. The logging on and off at set times, the temperamental nature of Data, not to mention the cost of it, do bring frowns to many a brow. Hiruni hears of tempers, tantrums; even fights. Sometimes, the grandchildren also have these. But, thankfully, they also have time to play and to cook and to read for fun.
Bookshelves are raided and grandchildren find they like what the adults like to read. And some of these are comics. One embarks on a course of reading Asterix. He reads with avidity and a very keen eye. Unlike Hiruni, he goes beyond the puns and analyses the art, differentiating Caesar drawn in the earlier books from Caesar drawn later on. Hiruni agrees with him that the old Vitalstatistix was ugly – ish compared to the current one.
He expects ‘Asterix and The Goths’ for Christmas. This drives him to crack jokes and ask Hiruni, “You Goth that?”
“I Goth it!” Hiruni would reply.
There is time for this levity.
Creativity kicks in and one home is ‘converted’ into Santa’s Workshop. An old exercise chair lends its shape obligingly into a gift – wrapping centre. An old couch is eyed with calculation as it would make an excellent sleigh. Especially if the dog could pull it along. Presents are handmade as shopping is curtailed. Small ones help with decorating wrapped parcels.
Cribs sit alongside Advent Wreaths, as many aspects of Christmas need to appear early.
They need to appear now.
Who knows what’s coming next?
All these factors will, again change, but for now, have certainly made a difference.
Because this year is different, Hiruni decided to make a cake.
The mixture of fruit looked delicious, shining and shimmering in its juices, glinting red here and golden orange there. Cadjunuts (not chopped too small), providing a touch of white. She mixed and stirred, adding a spice here and a drop of flavouring there.
Suddenly, it seemed that the day to make the cake had arrived.
Hirun suggested she wait until there were some helpers around.
No, it was the day to make the cake.
He had a meeting online and wouldn’t be around to help.
No, it was the day to make the cake.
Hiruni made the cake.
She lined the tin.
She pre-heated the oven.
She put in the cake.
She burned the cake.
“I burnt the cake!” she sobbed on Hirun’s shoulder when he emerged from his study.
“There, there!” he said to her. “It’s not so bad. Just cut the charcoal -y bits off.”
“It’s all charcoal; -y bits!” she yowled into Hirun’s ear. He would have preferred the carols.
Hiruni sent wailing WhatsApps with attached photographs off to her progeny, called herself a moron in sixteen different languages and went to bed.
She woke to a flood of comfort.
n This happened to mine last year
n The part that’s not burned looks amazing
n I’m sure it will taste great! The unburnt bits look Yummy!
The grandchildren added:
n There must be something wrong with the recipe
n I can’t BELIEVE Hiruni Aarchchi’s cooking didn’t come right!
n It’s not something permanent; it’ll wear off
n It’s only food, not people
And –
n It’s not as if Aarchchi burned an ASTERIX BOOK!
Hirun woke to Hiruni’s shrieks wondering if she was still upset. When she stopped laughing, she showed him the words of wisdom from her nearest and dearest.
And there, suddenly, it was all laid out before her.
Mary and Joseph didn’t know what would happen next either. Their immediate present was uncertain. They journeyed, but did not get back to where they were before. They moved on. They had to.
They had to start again with different priorities.
And in her messages Hiruni saw:
The cheerful comfort from Mary’s cousin Elizabeth;
The faith of Mary;
The strength and staunchness of Joseph;
The hope sung by the angels;
The promise of love from God – Jesus.
This is Christmas.