One Big Weekend

The other weekend I was in town at the same time that GuyExpo was going on. This is one event that is talked about all year round as one of the biggest events in Guyana. It is an exposition showcasing all that the country has to offer from local manufactured products, artists, foods (both for commercial production and plenty of snack booths to buy food), rum and beer, electronics, a health fair, native Amerindian tent, children’s games and rides, and more. The mornings are closed to the public for companies to network and place orders (I’m assuming what Costco is like before it opens to the public, where businesses can do their shopping and eat hotdogs without having to listen to screaming children). Then in the afternoon GuyExpo opens for the public with busloads of school children on fieldtrips and anyone else in Georgetown to come and stroll the fairgrounds listening to live broadcasts of local radio stations, and fill their pockets with tons of free handouts from all the booths. Then at night is really just a big party. A stage is set up for local artists to play, the beer and rum flow, plenty of food, adding up to one of Guyana’s biggest “Limes” of the year. It was really nice to be in town for this to see what everyone talks about all year round.

But that’s not all! On that Sunday was the Muslim holiday of Eid-Ul-Adha (which is also a national holiday since Guyana recognizes all Christian/Hindu/Muslim holidays as public holidays; and since each Sunday is already recognized as a national holiday, whenever a holiday falls on a Sunday, Monday is also declared a national holiday). I went and visited my friend on the Essequibo Coast as her host family is Muslim to see what the community does to celebrate; since there aren’t any Muslims (not that I know of) in my community, it’s almost entirely a Christian community.

In the morning we went to the Masjid (Arabic for Mosque I found out) to see them slaughter all their bulls. From what I was told, the holiday commemorates Abraham’s sacrifice of his son Ishmael. Members of the (Muslim) community get together to purchase a bull to sacrifice in honor of this holiday and then share out all the beef to the rest of the community. I asked why they don’t use a ram as in the story and was told that in Guyana it is common to use a bull, one gets more meat for the price of the animal, but other places around the world may use rams or other animals. At this Masjid we saw probably two dozen bulls being slaughtered. It was so impressive to see how quickly all the men worked with the animals. From a live bull to being skinned, quartered, and then cut into smaller pieces took well under a half hour for each animal. When asked if I eat beef, I said of course and the man I was speaking with came back moments later with a bag full of beef for me.

Later we went back to my friend’s house to cook our “steaks” as a late brunch. I have had fresh chicken before, where it was killed, plucked, cut, and cooked immediately, but never beef. All the beef I’ve ever eaten has spent days in refrigerators before I’ve ever consumed it. Never have I eaten beef that came from a living cow/bull less than an hour before eating! Needless to say it was amazing. The pieces we got in our bag were great; we separated the large pieces of beef from the little bit of fat, gristle, and bones, rubbed the meat with different spices we had on hand and put it straight on a tawa (think flat iron) to cook to a nice medium rare. It was really nice to have a steak cooked this way as all the meat I have in Guyana (though absolutely delicious) is finely chopped up with the bones and pressure cooked well above done, before being mixed into various veggie stews or rice. A nice piece of “organic/free-range” beef (and a cold beer) really hit the spot. Though there wasn’t much else to the holiday it was nice to spend the morning at the Masjid as I definitely wouldn’t have had that opportunity to find out what the holiday is about where I live.

But wait, there’s more! Though most people celebrated Yom Kippur the Friday night/Saturday, at the Hebrew Cultural Center in Georgetown, the Israelites celebrated starting Sunday night/Monday to coincide with the exact phase of the moon over Guyana. So since I was in town I was able to visit the HCC on Monday to celebrate Yom Kippur with them. They celebrate in a very similar way as in the states except that most people sleep over starting the night before and stay there until the sun sets the following day, there are no tickets, and there isn’t a fashion show to see who’s wearing what to services. They still fasted and had a similar type service (reading the Torah and various other prayers) although there was no special High Holiday book used with a regimented service; it was more like an expanded Shabbat service with more discussion and sharing. At the concluding announcements they mentioned needing volunteers to help set up for the following holiday “the Festival of Booths” (Sukkot) but alas I would be back in site and not able to return to spend the holiday with them. The big question remains: If I fasted twice (one to coincide with Israel and one with Guyana) do I have to fast next year?

10 Things You May Not Know About Guyana

In a BuzzFeed style post, here’s a list of ten things you might not have known (bonus points if you have) about the country I’m currently serving the Peace Corps in (Notice Jim Jones didn’t make the cut because his famous Kool-Aid recipe is all anybody knows about).

~             1              ~

It’s not Ghana. It’s not Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Equatorial Guinea, Gabon, Gambia, or French Guiana. It’s Guyana. Let’s say it together na? Guyana. ‘Guy’ like, “hey David you’re such a cool guy serving in the Peace Corps.” And ‘ana’ like, “hey Ana, have you read David’s new blog post on how to say the country he’s serving in?” Guyana. Good, now that we’ve got that taken care of, let’s look at a map to see where the heck this place is? Guyana, believe it or not, is not even on the same continent as the places I just listed (ok you caught me, French Guiana is), Africa. It’s located in South America in the magical gap in our minds (“The Guianas”) with Venezuela to the west, Suriname to the east, Brazil to the south, and the Atlantic Ocean to the north. So next time you mail ANYTHING to me, make sure in big capital letters you put SOUTH AMERICA under the address; otherwise it WILL end up going to the other PCVs in Ghana or the other African PC posts.

~             2              ~

 

The country changed its name after independence. Guyana used to be called “British Guiana” before its independence on May 26^th 1966. Since independence the country has been Guyana, an Amerindian word for “land of many waters.” Because for many years Guyana was a colony of the Queen, English is the official language of the country, a point of pride for international marketing. But me know why dem bais say duh, dem bannaz speak real brux here, ya understand na?

~             3              ~

The world cup is finally over, with an exciting overtime goal by Germany. So in the spirit of international football, here’s a FIFA fact for you. Guyana has the worst football team in South America. Not surprising when you think of the football countries here, but still, Guyana is the worst (155th place in the world)). Although on the bright side of things they’re only in 11^th place among the Caribbean countries, and Guyana is much more a Caribbean country than it is South American so it’s all good.

~             4              ~

On the upside of sports, Guyana has produced some of the best cricketers in the world. Cricket, after football (thanks to the British Empire) might be the 2^nd most popular sport in the world, and Guyana has supplied some of the best players on the international stage. For you Yankees, cricket is pretty much a combination of running bases with a bat, but don’t tell anyone who knows cricket that, they might get super offended.

~             5              ~

Being a Caribbean country, Guyana shares many of the same aspects as the islands in the surrounding sea like reggae and soca music, a laid back sense of time, and a delicious culinary blend of all the ethnic groups that make the Caribbean their home. In its commitment to the Caribbean, Guyana was one of four founding members of the Caribbean Community or CARICOM. An organization similar to Europe’s EU, CARICOM is a group of various countries in the Caribbean that forms political, economic, and social groups and institutions. And guess where CARICOM is headquartered? You guessed it! Right here in the capital of Georgetown is the CARICOM Secretariat. Now who says we’re not a Caribbean country?

~             6              ~

So you’re tired of The Man taking away more and more holidays that you used to get off of work or school? Well move to Guyana. Here the government recognizes all the holidays of the three main religions in Guyana: Christianity, Hinduism, and Islam, on top of secular federal holidays. You’re not Hindu? No problem. Enjoy the day off on Phagwah and cover your friends in dye and colored powder, or just hang out and enjoy the day off. Never been to a mosque or masjid? Don tek stress, enjoy the day off while your friends celebrate any of the “Eid's.” And after all these holidays off, everyone can get together for a “celebration after hard work” for Guyana's Mashramani, celebrating the country becoming a republic.

~             7              ~

Ready for an American female president? Guyana beat Americans to the punch. The 6^th president of Guyana was an American woman, a nice Jewish girl from Chicago in fact. Janet Jagan went to school at Northwestern University where she met a handsome man named Cheddi from Guyana, fell in love, and the rest is history for this First Lady, Prime Minister, and President.

~             8              ~

Forget Niagara, Victoria, or Iguaçu, Guyana’s got the highest single drop waterfall in the world; or something like that. No one is exactly sure why Kaieteur Falls is so awesome, in this country of superlatives, but come see it for yourself! I’m hoping to get to go by the years end.

~             9              ~

We’re gonna rock down to… Guyana? Want to know what song will play when you call me? Electric Avenue by Eddy Grant, who’s a Guyanese. Pretty cool huh? All this time you’ve been listening to this song you never knew he came from Guyana (or knew of Guyana).

~             10           ~

As you know, I live in Guyana. But believe it or not, half of the PCVs in Guyana actually live in Venezuela. Do they have a long commute you might ask? No not at all. Venezuela claims that all the land west of the Essequibo River is part of Venezuela and not Guyana, in an area they call Guayana Esequiba. That is equal to half of the country! I’m sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the majority of the gold and diamond fields in Guyana are located west of the Essequibo, they’re just claiming it for pure historical reasons. So have I been to Venezuela? Well, it depends on who you ask.

Hey I'm on TV!

So one of the TV stations in Guyana came to camp GLOW and interviewed me on the program. so if you want to see what I'm like at camp towards the end of the day (exhausted if you couldn't tell), enjoy the video clip!

Hey Barack, What's the Peace Corps All About?

Here's a video Obama made. Yes, its quite a recruiting plug, but hey it's from the prez! Enjoy




And if you're wanting some tongue and cheek humor, here's another explaining exactly what the Peace Corps is like lol

One Down, One To Go

So I’m just over the halfway mark of being in Guyana with the Peace Corps, with one more year to serve. My cousins wedding was a good excuse to come home at the halfway point to see family and friends; and I did not mind one bit catching up on craft beer, hot showers, fast/clean laundry machines, and some food I can’t get here. But alas, here I am back in the heat and humidity of the tropics getting ready for my next year – with Camp GLOW coming up all too soon.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading recently; it’s strange how I’ve come to like something I’ve hated being forced to do for the last decade or so. One article I came across talked about the differences between "communities and networks" I couldn’t have read this at a more opportune time, as it was perfect in my reflection of what I'm doing here in Guyana and the relationships I've made. You're more than welcome to read the article yourself, I liked it, but the main thesis is that networks are an anonymous group that connect with only one aspect of a person, and communities are a tight knit group with giving and receiving an integral part of membership. With this lens, it gave me a new perspective in looking at my life now in the Peace Corps.

We use the term “community” quite often in the Peace Corps so it was nice to look at the article’s criteria in seeing the different communities I belong to. “Community” is more than just the village I live in, but also the staff I’m part of, and the group of volunteers I belong to, or even my host family; people often have more than one community. Though right now I'm missing showering with two hands and choosing what to watch on TV, it was so nice to be welcomed back by so many people as soon as I got off the plane (running into friends who work at the airport). Taking my afternoon “breeze out” I passed by various students who shouted “Sir” as they rode by on their bikes, or people at the hospital welcoming me back to work.

My CU alumni newsletters, though sometimes entertaining to read, never mention anything if I click “delete” before I open it, but the relationships I've made here over the past year seem to really point out how I'm part of a community rather than a network. Here in Guyana, in various circles I now realize I've been built into a system where I not only benefit and receive, but others depend on my input as well. It’s been nice to step away at this halfway mark to be able to come back and evaluate what I'm doing here in Guyana.

Is what I'm doing “hard”? At times yes. But other times it’s so enjoyable. I really do appreciate this opportunity I've embarked on and am truly looking forward to my next year to see what lies ahead of me. I'm not sure I’ll ever really be able to do something like this again and I try my best to remember that and to take advantage of every minute of it. I'm learning so much but I'm not sure I’ll even realize just how much until it’s all over.

Well, the sun is starting to set and it hasn’t rained that much today, so if you’ll excuse me, there’s music playing in the air, I’m going out on a walk.

PC Guyana Bulletin #2

Hey everybody, here's the next installment of the PC Guyana bulletin, highlighting everything that happens at this post.



DOWNLOAD IT HERE
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-pSgYjtR2BVTHdiaXJ3cHhiOW9OTmRqVGxwUkNBVHl3ejNN/edit?usp=sharing

Creolese 101

Eh wam de bannaz (hello, how are you my fine upstanding friend)!?

It’s now been a year since I’ve been in Guyana, you know “the only English speaking country in South/Latin America.” If I haven’t made it clear in my blog as yet, that there’s multiple things off with that "Peace Corps phrase.” Like how I serve in the Caribbean rather than South/Latin America (saying I serve in South America conjures up a whole different idea of what Guyana is like), or how this is an English speaking country. Guyana is definitely NOT an English speaking country. Besides all the indigenous languages spoken in the interior (though no one I interact with speaks any of these languages, but other PCV’s do), English is definitely not spoken; it’s Creolese. Yes the same Latin alphabet is used, and even many of the same words, but with totally different meanings. Here in Guyana we do not speak English but instead a different language altogether. I’ve put together a little compilation of videos/songs and local news articles to give you a taste of what language is like here in country.

Here’s a medley by a Guyanese group The Tradewinds. It’s three folk songs: “In Guyana,” “Lilly Gyal,” and “Bamboo Fyah” with a nice montage of pictures from all over the country. This kind of old folk music isn’t really played very often but listening to the songs is a good representation of how you could expect people to sound when you come to Guyana.

In a local paper, the “Kaieteur News,” they have a column entitled “dem boys seh.” In this daily newspaper the writers comment on local/national news stories in Creolese. It’s best if you read it out loud at first to hear yourself if you’re trying to understand what the articles are about. These are a great way to see how people talk here in Guyana. Here’s the link to find the column online http://www.kaieteurnewsonline.com/category/features-columnists/dem-boys-seh/ pick any story, they're all just as good as the next.

Another song by The Tradewinds that I listened to in training called “The West Indian Alphabet.” They go through all the letters in the alphabet matching them with local meanings.

I hope this gives you a better understanding of what language is like here in Guyana. PS please let me know what else you’re interested in me covering in upcoming blog posts.

Slippers and Spurs

Over the Easter weekend every year there is a rodeo held in Guyana. It’s located in Lethem, which is in Region 9, the southern part of the country, and this year I was able to go with several other PCV’s. When I think of a “rodeo” several things come to mind: cowboy boots and hats, lots of cattle, horses, country/western music, and plenty of Texans making sure I know exactly where they’re from as I take their order (well maybe that last one was from working at Ted’s when the stock show came to Denver). None of those things come to mind when I think about Guyana, a Caribbean country where Bob Marley is a more accurate icon than say Ted Turner. Yet Lethem seems like it’s located in a completely different country all together.

On the 21+ hour bus ride to get there from Georgetown there are three separate passport checks. This seemed completely unnecessary since the checks are nowhere near any border but in the middle of the country. However, once I arrived in Lethem it seemed oddly symbolic of going to another country as I didn’t even feel like I was in Guyana anymore. The landscape is completely different moving from the tropical scenes of palm and banana trees that line the coast to grassy savannahs and “mountains” (they’re more like big hills), reminiscent of driving through eastern Colorado. The people are also different whereas on the coast of Guyana one finds mostly a mix of Black and Indian Guyanese; here it’s mostly Amerindian and Brazilians (with Lethem’s close proximity to the border with Brazil). The regions name is “Rupununi,” and like most Lone Star Citizens introduce themselves as from Texas before America, the same holds true for the people here; they are proud to be from The Rupununi and let you know it. The style of food is also slightly different, where greens are hard to find, cassava and its products (cassava bread, farine, cassareep, etc.) are everywhere. The cost of meat is also substantially less, which made eating plenty of grilled meat throughout my trip a delight. For the same price of a small snack ($300) I could get a large skewer of meat fresh off a grill (beef, pork, or chicken).

mmmmmmmmmm meat!

 The rodeo was held on Saturday-Monday with main events happening the first two days. I was skeptical as to what this “rodeo” was going to be like, but once I arrived I was surprised to see that it was just like what I expected an “American” rodeo to be like. Plenty of trucks driving into a dirt fair ground, amusement park rides and side show games for the kids, fenced off central ground with bandstands around for spectators, lots of food and beverage stalls, and country music blasting everywhere. It was nuts, I didn’t feel like I was in Guyana for one bit, but rather in some strange small American town. Now there obviously were some major distinctions, like people speaking to me in Portuguese and prices quoted in Reals, I’m not too sure I could find a good lawyer if I flew off the rickety old loop-d-loop, and instead of drinking Budweiser it was cans of Schin. But by far the best and craziest difference was the footwear. The vaqueros wore the same clothes as in America: wide brim hats, chaps, button down shirts, denim jeans, spurs, etc. but no boots. Instead they were riding barefoot with spurs wrapped around their ankles! Not to say that it’s easy, or even I could do it, but I’m wondering how many American bull riders would be willing to ride barefoot? I’m guessing none. That was crazy to watch all these riders stay on their animal whether a bull, horse, or run around the ground roping cattle either in a pair of slippers (flip-flops) or completely barefoot.

Note the slippers and spurs

My weekend at the rodeo consisted of running off to get more meat-on-a-stick, delicious fresh blended drinks (pick any two fruits and any bottle of Guyanese/Brazilian rum (with a complimentary top off while hanging around and gaffing), watching all the rodeo events, learning how to two-step, running off for a cold Schin, learning how to dance forro (pronounced "faha"), and taking in the amazing scenery around the area. I had an absolute blast. Granted, this was the only rodeo I've actually been to and only had stereotypes of what I thought American rodeos would be like, I would definitely love to go to an American one, but will probably be comparing it to my first Guyanese experience and wondering “what are all these cowboys doing riding with boots on?”

Pine/Lime a winning combination

Where’s the Afikomen?

While many of you were enjoying beef brisket and matzo balls this Passover, I was at the Hebrew Cultural Center in Georgetown celebrating the “Feast of Unleavened Bread.” What made this night different than all the other nights, I’ve celebrated Passover? Well, a lot.

I was told to arrive by 6 p.m. I was already in town for a training at the Peace Corps office that ended just a little after 5, so I had to book it to catch a bus to the Center; I ended up arriving just a few minutes after 6. However, unlike the past few times I’ve gone on Saturday’s it was quiet (no sound of drums from a block away) and only a few people were there. Strange, I thought, since I’ve been told that Passover is supposed to be a big deal. The sun was just about to set, how odd that I was one of the few people there.

After hanging around for a little, the Kohen (what they call their Rabbi), asked if I wanted to come and watch the ceremonial slaughter of the lamb. Well of course! So I went out back where there was not one, but seven lambs tied up, a trench dug, a large pit, and a wooden beam suspended. The lambs were then herded to the other side of the building so they wouldn’t see what was to happen. Then the first lamb was taken and blessed by the Kohen, then held down over the trench and slaughtered by a male congregant. After most of the blood had been drained from the neck into the trench it was hung up on the suspended wooden beam and the process was repeated six more times. While the other lambs were blessed and slaughtered, other congregants worked to help fill the giant pit with charcoal and skin the hanging lambs. Once all the lambs were skinned and organs removed, they were each given a thorough wash to remove any remaining blood and seasoned. I’ve never had raw lamb before, but I was so close to taking a big bite out of one of the legs as a congregant passed holding a whole seasoned lamb and I caught a whiff of it; it smelled amazing. Seasoned with olive oil, plenty of lemon, and green seasoning (a Guyanese seasoning staple, though you can buy it here, most people make their own because its way better. A wet blend of parsley, celery, thyme, garlic, hot pepper, and salt; it would taste great off a car bumper), the lambs were placed on grates over the burning coals. Once all the lambs were finally on the grill the service could begin. In the meantime the women were in the kitchen making whole-wheat matzo from scratch, and provision stew (a mixture of ripe and green plantains, eddo, and sweet potato, think of it like a chunky mashed potato mixture).

A little after 9 p.m. the service finally began (and you thought you got hungry waiting through a Maxwell House Haggadah Sedar?). It wasn’t a sedar like I’m used to sitting down at a family table, but rather like a typical Shabbat service at the Center with prayers, songs, and Torah readings with the congregation sitting in rows. And to fulfill the commandment, the Kohen told the story of Exodus, which was by far the shortest part of the entire service! It was only about a paragraph long. Towards the end of the service as the drums beat, the bitter herb was passed around so everyone could get a piece. In Guyana they don’t have horseradish, but instead use carilla, which is actually a bitter vegetable. It makes for the perfect bitter herb.

When the service finally ended a bit after 11p.m. the feast begin (again, anyone else going to complain about how their sedar took forever and they were hungry?). The food was amazing, by far the best matzo I’ve EVER eaten (who would ever say that?!). It was warm and soft and they served it alongside fresh pine(apple) jam. Everybody looked at me like I was crazy when I explained what matzo is like back in the states; a miserable stale cracker. The provision stew was comforting finally eating close to midnight getting some hot food, but the award definitely goes to the lamb. Fresh (about as fresh as it gets) grilled lamb pulled from the bones, I’m not too sure there’s anything better! And as the Kohen explained to the congregation, that in accordance with the Torah, only males that are circumcised may partake in the lamb (circumcision is not a common practice in Guyana) and anyone that would like he can put in touch with a reputable individual who can arrange the procedure (later in conversation with other congregants his work was vouched for as “doing a good job”). The lamb was served on an honor system.

Here there were no four cups of wine, asking of any questions, or finding hidden matzo around the building. People limed (hung out), ate, and talked all through the night. As it’s referenced in the Torah, it’s a “night of watching” so everyone stays (or tries) awake the entire night. The kids love it; it’s like a lock in where they can hang out with their friends all night long. I figured since I finished eating dinner after midnight staying awake until sunrise wouldn’t be so hard. It was the next day that proved the most challenging as I had a presentation to give first thing in the morning back at the office.

The night was a lot of fun. I sat up talking with a lot of the congregants for hours about anything from current politics to the differences between how I celebrate Passover and how they celebrate. Periodically people would get more food and continue the feast, as all of the meat had to be finished by sunrise. Any meat leftover (along with all the bones and organs) would be burned in the fire just before sunrise. Once the first sun’s rays shown through an overcast sky the horn blew and those sleeping woke up for a brief morning service. After a hot cup of tea and a breakfast of some more fresh matzo and fried plantains, I headed straight to the office for a second day of training.

From the outside this seems like a completely different holiday, but it really just sticks with the biblical version to truly celebrate the Feast of Unleavened bread. I was waiting to see if any of the lamb’s blood would be collected and wiped on the door posts, but the Kohen said it wasn’t necessary since that was only for the original Passover and not for the retelling.

No Poppy Seeds or Prunes: A Little Known Fact About Purim

While many of you were dressed up, listening to the Magilla, and enjoying freshly baked hamantaschen this past Purim, I also celebrated in true Guyanese fashion. But first a little backstory…

Everyone knows the Purim story of Esther, Mordechai, and Haman. But few people know the story of Haman’s cousin. Haman had quite a few cousins, as the tribe of Amalek wasn’t small at the time. Pine (pronounced pee-nay) was Haman’s younger cousin who lived in the neighboring Persian town of Bootshan. Growing up Pine’s parents would take their children to visit their cousins in Shushan each year during school breaks. It was during these summer breaks that Pine met Vashti and they soon became lasting friends looking forward to the times when Pine would visit Shushan.

As years went by, their friendship blossomed into romance, but Vashti’s parents had other plans for her. They weren’t about to let her marry a poor Bootshanite. With her beauty they settled for no less than royalty. Fast forward several years, Vashti is now a queen married to King Ahasuerus and Pine is earning a meager living as a baker in Bootshan. Though it had been several years since Vashti became queen and had even seen Pine, her heart secretly belonged to him. They kept in contact through letters written in secrecy being delivered to the palace hidden in loaves of bread that King Ahasuerus ordered from Pine’s bakery in Bootshan.

One day King Ahasuerus ordered Queen Vashti to come to a banquet he was throwing, but she refused. Queen Vashti hated showing herself off to even the King as deep down she missed her true love, Pine. King Ahasuerus was so insulted at Queen Vashti’s refusal that he ordered her execution. When Pine learned of this he knew he would have to act fast if he were to save his long love Vashti. He planned their escape the night before her execution. King Ahasuerus placed an extra order of bread and cakes to be delivered to Shushan in celebration of his soon-to-be singleness. Pine would deliver the order to the palace himself and sneak away with Vashti in the night. Finally they would be together, but where would they go? Every soldier in the vast Persian Empire would be looking for the two of them. They had to travel to the end of the world. Some place no one had heard of or would think to look. Then it hit them. They would escape to Guyana. They would be safe from harm in a country no one has heard of and could finally live together in peace.

Yet things weren’t always easy for those two. Vashti was used to living in a breezy palace and the mosquitos at night were unrelenting. But the two eventually came to enjoy their new home in the Caribbean. Pine put his bakery skills to use and worked at a local snackette learning to make local dishes like cheese rolls, salara, chicken pies, channah, sugar cake, dal puri, sausage rolls, and fresh juices. After sometime of cultivating his knowledge of local delicacies he eventually opened his own snackette.

Word of Pine’s snackette spread near and far and people were coming in droves to the “man wit de tree point hat.” One thing that Pine brought with him to Guyana was his family’s signature hat. Kids would run to Pine’s snackette during school breaks for channah and pholourie and even sing about him on the way.

“De hat it git tree carners,

Tree carners git de hat,

And it not git tree carners,

It ain’t de mans hat”

No one had ever seen such a hat before; even the adults were talking about it. One day one of Pine’s customer asked him, “eh budday, mek some ting strange fo me na? fo me tell me pickney bout de hat pon de goobie.” Pine thought to himself, “Self, what can I make to resemble my hat to sell to this customer?” Pine told him to come back tomorrow and he would make something special for him.

He decided to make fresh pine(apple) jam and stuff it in pastry crust and fold in the sides to make a triangle like cookie. The next day the man returned excited to see what Pine had made him. When Pine presented the man with his creation he took one bite of this large triangle cookie and smiled. One bite into the light and flaky crust revealed the golden jam, packed inside with real bits of pine mixed with delicious Demerara sugar. The man was ecstatic, he bought enough to bring back for his whole family to share and tell of Pine’s strange hat. “What you call dis na?” the man asked. Pine had never thought about a name for this new pastry, “um… a… Pine (pee-nay)… taschen… yea.” The man smiled and walked off with an odd look about his face as he tried to repeat back to himself “pinetaschen.”

The next day when the school bell rang for morning snack a herd of children rushed over to Pine’s snackette. He was getting ready filling bags with hot channah and sour but all he could hear were children shouting, “Please fo some pine (pīne) tart!” Pine was so confused. “What is a pine tart?!” he thought to himself. “You mean a pinetaschen?” he asked the children, who just looked back with blank stares on their faces. Then a child from the back spotted a pinetaschen in his window and pointed, “Look look a pine tart!” Pine figured it out pretty quick, it wasn’t his first day with creolese and was used to hearing words changed and butchered from what he was used to; and he was ok with it.

Each and every day the children would race from school and ask him for “pine tarts” which he smiled and handed out. The pinetaschen soon became everyone’s new favorite snack and everyone was now making these new “pine tarts.” The Guyanese just couldn’t get enough of them and soon every snackette had “pine tarts.” Even former president of Guyana, Janet Jagen, loved the pine tart as it reminded her of growing up in Chicago with her parents during Purim.

 

So Pine’s pinetaschen didn’t stick as a name, but Guyanese sure do love a good pine tart. Probably the best I’ve had is from a snackette in the Linden market from Ramesh (pictured) which I was sure to get one on Purim to celebrate. Even though there’s no hamantaschen filled with poppy seeds or prunes, apricot or chocolate, I love them anyways with their homemade pine(apple) jam. Here’s to Pine and his pinetaschen, and a happy Purim!