The thrill of Christmas past
My memories of Christmas start from the time we lived at 47/4, Galle Road, Bambalapitiya, right behind the market on a sandy lane that had four or five houses. As an over-excited child eager for Santa’s arrival, I was put to bed early, so the grown-ups could focus on their preparations for the following day! I recall hearing the sound of bells tinkling, my wild imagination or it may have been the sound of a kerosene cart, but it caused the happy anticipation of Santa’s sleigh.
When I was seven, we moved to the environs of the Wellawatte Spinning and Weaving Mills.Starting with trips to Swastika Stores on High Street Wellawatte, for Christmas cake ingredients and salt beef (the latter which Ammi deemed necessary for Christmas lunch!), to Elephant House in Slave Island where you stood at counters to order a leg of ham, boxed mince pies, Christmas pudding in ceramic bowls and other favourites.
I loved the trips to Fort, to Cargills and Millers with their boarded wooden floors, lifts and a glorious selection of wares. I was always treated to a book at Cargills, and loved the different “Annuals” for girls that Santa sometimes left in a pillow case, at the end of my bed. Walking to those shops also meant a stop at the cadju “Amme”, seated with her open basket of boiled cadjunuts wrapped in leaves tied into little parcels. Each of us got a pack. Those shopping trips always ended at Pagoda Tea Rooms on Chatham Street. That was the “best part of the day”.
It is a wonder I got any sleep on Christmas Eve. That blissful state of “unawareness”ended when I was around ten and early one morning I heard Thaathi say “Barbie (my mother was Barbara) we forgot the ball” ! And I could hear it being surreptitiously placed. Santa continued to visit me until my early teenage years, and I kept up my part in the pretence.
My parents came from two different races and religions. Although a Buddhist, Thaathi entered into the celebratory spirit of Christmas with great alacrity. My mother in turn, carried out all the traditions and customs of New Year, and other occasions.I did have the good fortune of playing Joseph at a school nativity play, and attending the school carol services where Ammi was Principal.
Christmas morning saw Kiribath on the table with lunumiris, seenisambol, and pieces of jaggery. Taking pride of place was the Breudher with its accompanying butter and the ball of Edam cheese (this was before import restrictions).Buying the Bruedher was also an event. While many Burgher families specialised in making their own, Ammi always went to Perera and Sons on Galle Road, opposite the Methodist Church Kollupitiya, ordered ours and collected it prior to Christmas.
After breakfast, Ammi would hand out Christmas presents, wrapped and left under the tree overnight. The house helpers (plentiful in our household at the time) were given their gifts which always comprised items of clothing and cash and enjoyed their Kiribath breakfast together with Breudher and Christmas cake .
That Christmas cake was made well in advance, with the chopped dried fruits soaking in brandy which she topped up at intervals. Every time this mixing occurred the rich scent of alcohol infused fruit pervaded the air. Ammi said her grandmother always used Maraschino cherries and cherry brandy for her cake. The crystallized pumpkin preserve, and Chow Chow were made at home,months before and the ginger preserve arrived in ginger jars from China. Ammi’s cake was quite well known and she even took orders for wedding cake pieces.
My ayah Magalin became so adept at assisting in all theseoperations, that many a time she was left to get on with the preparatory work. When it came to the butter, eggs, semolina, essences and mixing stage, Ammi presided with great authority. More of this and a little of that, taste, taste and taste again, even if it was a raw mixture. For baking the trays were always sent to a bakery. If Thaathi’s Peugeot 203 was unavailable it was the Morris Minor taxis that came to the fore. The Bakery “baas” with his wood fired oven, was always tipped beforehand, so that he could ensure the trays were baked “just so” to Ammi’s satisfaction.
When the trays were brought home in the late evening Thaathi and I conspired together in removing the handwritten labels fixed to the top – a stealthy pull and the cake crust coating on the underside of that paper – gave us a much looked forward to foretaste of what was to come ! After a few days, the cakes were topped with a cadjunut and icing sugar paste flavoured with almond essence, cut into pieces, and wrapped in oil paper over which bands of Christmas wrapping paper and cellophane were used.A relative or two always pitched in whenever required. Both my grandmothers, Zena Lamb and Louisa Gunasekara were frequently around.
The Christmas Tree was always a real tree, that I had the pleasure of decorating, after it was balanced into a large wooden pot, held up with bricks, sometimes with an artfully concealed prop or two. Ammi didn’t go overboardwith the decorations or colour co-ordinations then. It was just the tree, a display of cards, or some balloons. New curtains were bought unfailingly every year.
Christmas lunch was always simple, since the main event in our home was Christmas dinner. Rice, with the “Innala” made into a thick white curry, together with salt beef.
Ammi followed many of the practices carried out at her grandparents home, where she was brought up.
The ham purchased at Elephant Housewas put to boil in beer, on a cauldron outside. Chickens would be roasted with a special stuffing, side dishes of salads, hardboiled eggs cut in half, coated in a white sauce and topped with green peas, platters of sliced cold meat, sliced ham, were served with bread rolls.
It was always “Open House” for Christmas Dinner. Family and friends, everybody was expected, and welcomed. The gentlemen had the stuff that cheers, and cheered they were, especially when the annual highlight of the “Carol (Karroll) Cart” appeared. We were ready when we heard the clash of cymbals, drums and music, the cat calls and whistles. The transsexual men beautifully attired, shimmering and shining in their Nautchgirl outfits.They danced under the porch while we all stood on the front verandah. The grown-ups had their own comments, “look at that one,” “this one is eyeing you”! As children we enjoyed the show which was pure fun. There was always a male character in the midst of all the women, making rather a fool of himself, getting pushed and shoved. Finally the main “lady” dancer of the troupe sidled up to Thaathi in her enticing way, and a sum of money exchanged hands, and then, they were on their way, bells on wrists and anklets jangling.
As the years passed, the troupe and the dancers dwindled, and one year they didn’t come at all. That was the end of the Carol Cart days, but the Uncles still danced. My uncle Douglas who livened up many a gathering had his own version of “Dougiyage Buriya”!
For children another highlight at the end of the evening was the lighting of fireworks – sparklers, Catherine Wheels, some little round discs that circled, hummed and whizzed along the ground that had our Dachshund going berserk! Lastly a house boy sent a few rockets skywards that had us shrieking with happiness.
Although this signified the end of Christmas,as children we were secure in the pattern of life and the world around us, surroundedby parents, family, extended family and friends. Today some of us have children overseas. We travel, or they come over and huge voids are temporarily filled. Christmas becomes magical with children and grandchildren around. The old days and ways are gone. We’ve all learnt to adjust and adapt, make our own traditions.
Recently I saw this quotation that said: The first Christmas was simple, it’s okay if yours is too!
That put things into perspective. We can relive the past, but there’s no necessity to recreate it.
To all of us who celebrate the Christ Child’s birth, and the reason why he lived and lives among us in spirit, let us focus on the main message, which is of Love. May the joy of loving and giving be upon you and yours at Christmas and all the days ahead.
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