GUYANA – Christmas is made of this – Ten Poems – By Dmitri Allicock

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Comments

  • Reginald Chee-a-tow  On December 17, 2016 at 10:39 am

    Keep it up.

    Sent from my iPad

    >

  • Gigi  On December 17, 2016 at 6:46 pm

    Beautiful and heart warming poems as usual Dmitri. I find it discouraging that the Guyana gov’t or organizations have not stepped up to encourage or support you in publishing a book that can be used to teach local poetry and culture in schools.

    Nostalgia creeping in…but I will not be one hopping on a plane to reconnect with these forever lost memories.

    Orange peel in pepperpot? Never heard of it. I would love to taste pepperpot made with orange peel but I’m not going to try adding it to my mom’s recipe. Anyway, I now have a new admiration for peperpot… my daughter invited a college friend home for Thanksgiving. The friend is Russian and Jewish. Surprisingly, she did not care for the turkey, ham and the other traditional American Thanksgiving food, but she kept asking throughout her stay if it was okay for her to have some more pepperpot. She absolutely loved pepperpot and even took some back with her when she left. Of course, when I told this to my American colleagues/fellow teachers they could not even muster up a comment even though the discussion was all about Thanksgiving. Must have been a dreadful blow to their exceptional egos. My husband and kids were upset that I did not break from tradition and cook turkey or duck curry, instead. Next year I definitely will because most of the turkey and ham ended up in the trash as usual. Guyanese Thanksgiving here I come!!!

  • Albert  On December 17, 2016 at 10:45 pm

    Gigi……”my daughter invited a college friend home for Thanksgiving. The friend is Russian and Jewish”
    Children can do the darnest things. Imagine if it had been an invitation of one from say Nigeria or Kenya. Then you might have had some nightmares……..just kidding.

  • Albert  On December 17, 2016 at 11:24 pm

    Once visited an Amerindian outpost near the Brazilian border in the early 60’s. They had a giant pot in the middle of the compound with what I now believe was their version of pepperpot. A fire was under the pot the entire day. What look like a hunting party return with the carcass of an animal, cut the meat up in large pieces and throw it in the pot. Everyone in the compound was invited to eat. The dark color mixture did not look too encouraging so green mangoes were my meal that day.
    My wife in her Guyanese custom like to cook pepperpot occasionally. I don’t want to offend her so I eat the stuff always remembering the Amerindian version.

  • demerwater  On December 21, 2016 at 5:43 am

    Dimitri, I was looking for a spot to post this memory of a bygone Christmas. My hope is that others may add their own bits and pieces. In the end it would be a poetic ‘time capsule’. You and Rosaliene Bacchus are sure to have something memorable to add. There are other and better (than I) poets who may care to edit my effort. Maybe Cyril will pull it all together and post it as a ‘co-operative’ effort.
    Thanks and Merry Christmas.

    It was the night before Christmas;
    And all over the house,
    Things needed doing.
    Things were getting done.

    On the coal-pot pepperpot was boiling;
    Into the ‘pooknee’ I was blowing.
    On the floor daddy was toiling.
    The linoleum he was unrolling.

    Mummy was lovingly lacing,
    A festive ribbon plate.
    In the yard was much carousing,
    Everything was running late.

    The furniture had been washed and varnished.
    The brass plant pots were free of all tarnish.
    Clothes were washed and starched and ironed.
    Our new clothes and shoes will soon be “try-on’d”

    Cake baskets hung from the rafters,
    Children looked up and feel their mouth water.
    Ice apple and grapes, walnuts and pears;
    Tomorrow there will be much Christmas cheer.

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