Sunday, August 14, 2005

a feast

Think back to a family reunion or holiday gathering where you had many family members in a small area. Maybe a lake house or a park.

Now imagine that that house is a small bungalow reminiscent of a shack.

Add over a hundred of your closest family members, friends, and neighbors.

This is a feast.

Here in the village there are feasts for a number of occasions. Today’s feast was to commemorate the one-year anniversary of the death of one of the elders.

Over one hundred people packed into a small house.

Feel the sweat.

There was very little seating. A few chairs and a couch were reserved for the very old.
Those in there 50’s and 60’s were on the floor with the rest of us.

My butt cheeks fell asleep.

For two hours gifts are passed out. The family hosting the feast bought gifts for all those attending. Different ages and genders received different gifts.

I was given a mug and saucer, a potholder, a tupper ware container, a bag of candy, and a temporary tattoo.

I desperately needed a potholder.

Other gifts included candle holders, saltshakers, plates, and baby clothing.

The baby clothing and knitted goods were given to the babies that were named after the deceased.

After the gifts came food.

As for the food, it was interesting.
A choice of bird or fish soup.
There was a variety of bird in the soup. I had the turkey; there were bones in the meat.

Large bones, small bones, little splintery bones.

Gnawing on the bone.

For desert we had eskimo ice cream
a combination of crisco, sugar, and assorted berries.

the best part of the meal was that it is very rude not to eat what you are given.

Comments:
gone are the days of "oh no i can't eat that it has bones in it" something new every day, mom
 
HI JODY,
IT'S NANCIE IN AUSTIN! I SURE WISH YOU COULD HAVE JOINED US HERE FOR "GIRLS WEEKEND"! I'M AM SO ENJOYING YOUR BLOG, I WILL READ EVERY WORD. YOU ARE A TERRIFIC WRITER! WHAT'S THE TEMPERATURE THERE NOW?
 
No eskimo pies? Uncle M.
 
oh trust me.
i don't do bones.
no now, not ever.
 
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