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!

History of the World, Part III

You’ve seen Part I I by Mel Brooks, the trailer for Part II, here’s part III, “Jews in Guyana.”

Before coming to Guyana I did a search on Jews in Guyana and all I could find was an article saying how “the last Jew in Guyana” was moved to a Jewish cemetery in Suriname by her children as she requested because there was no Jewish cemetery here, let alone a Jewish cemetery (which I think I found when I was in Paramaribo). So after slightly more research, checking out stats for the country in the World Fact Book, I concluded that I would most likely be the only Jew in Guyana (except maybe another token Jewish Peace Corps volunteer). However, one of the staff members introduced me to a woman named Shaleema that works as a janitor in the office telling me that she was Jewish too, yet I was quite skeptical once she told me that she was a Guyanese. I finally was able to meet her last August and after talking with her she invited me to come along with her to the “Jewish Cultural Center.” Not calling it a synagogue/shul/temple along with her asking me “so how long have you been Jewish?” (to which I responded, “about 25 years now. What about you?”) made me kind of skeptical. Maybe it’s some off shoot of Christianity (there are a ton of different churches here so it wouldn’t surprise me) or maybe this is just one big “lost in translation” moment. Either way I told her I would definitely like to come along the next time I'm free in town; which until this past weekend had been never. Since I was in town all week working in the Peace Corps office on training for Guy 26 and had the following weekend free I asked her again if I could come along to the “Jewish Cultural Center” with her this weekend to which she was excited that I asked.

We talked briefly about it as she asked me if in America there were many “Jewish Cultural Centers” and if we also “have the drums” or the “Hebrew songs.” I told her that yes we also have Hebrew songs and prayers but no drums and there are probably thousands of synagogues across the country, which she really looked stunned when I told her that, maybe more stunned than I was when I found out there was just one cultural center in Guyana. She talked about how they celebrate holidays like Yom Kippur, the Festival of Booths, and the Sabbath, but when I asked her if she was going to celebrate Purim because it was coming up she didn’t know what that holiday was.  I really had no idea what to expect but kept an open mind.

We met at noon at Stabroek market and caught a bus down. As we approached the street she told me that they already started. I asked her how she knew (as everything runs late in Guyana) and she told me she could hear the drums. As we approached the building I could see men dressed in African attire guarding each door with large hand carved wooden staffs. I was escorted through a separate entrance and led to a seat while Shaleema was led through another entrance. There was no mechitza but men sat on the left side of the center isle and women on the right. The room was small holding about 60 or so members with just shy of a dozen drummers up front playing an assortment of drums. Everyone was in African garb. I felt like I was transported back to Ghana. The way the drums beat, the dress, and the way everyone danced and clapped felt straight out of West Africa. All the men wore large crocheted kippahs, similar in style to what Muslim men wear, or wrapped up their dreadlocks (plenty of men and women have their hair locked). Everyone men, women, and babies wore tsit-tsit. And when I say tsit-tsit I don’t mean a tallis, but instead pinned blue yarn to the corners of their garments. The rabbi, who they called Cohen, wore white cotton African garb and a necklace that was a wooden or bone replica of either the breastplate the priests would wear in the temple, or the Ten Commandments. It was only about 4”x6” so I couldn’t make it out exactly, but I’m betting it’s the former. Some of the prayers were in Hebrew but I was thrown off a bit by how they said it. I’m thrown off when I go to other (like reform) services and there are different tunes but can generally follow along. The same thing happened here but exaggerated. One big difference was that they pronounced  יהוה like its spelled, “Yahowa.” And they said “Ya” a lot, which coupled with different tunes, really more like African chants with the drumming, really threw me for a loop. So I’m pretty sure that the prayers were the same, but since it’s been a few months since I’ve read the prayers I’m still left wondering if they're the same or different; either way they’re real  similar. There was a Torah service (along with prayers before and after each reading) that was first read in Hebrew then English, followed by an English Haftora. But no Torah, they read out of a printed Tanakh book and used a projector so others could follow along if they didn’t bring their own Tanakh (where these books came from I have no idea). Throughout the service as well as personal interactions people used “Ivrit” to replace English words and phrases like: Slicha (excuse me), toda raba (thank you), bivakasha (please), tov (good), and yeladim (children) to list a few.

There was a break around 3 for lunch and they resumed around 4 and went until about 7. And you thought services were long in the states! There was a typical sermon and the sisterhood showed a power point to educate the congregation on topics relevant to their needs. That day was about chewing gum, how it’s artificial along with alternatives to achieve fresh breath through natural methods. I thought that was particularly cool to see additional education for the congregation based on their needs. That’s something I haven’t seen at all at any of the other church services I’ve attended. At the conclusion of the service one of the announcements was about how the congregation would have a tent for Mashramani and they would be selling KOSHER and vegetarian food. I was shocked. I was honestly expecting them to say Halaal (or just vegetarian food) as almost all stores and restaurants around Guyana sell Halaal meat/food and I've seen nothing that’s kosher (granted I also haven’t been looking).

I know growing up I’ve heard of Jews in Ethiopia as well as Israel's Operation Magic Carpet but Jews from Africa I’ve thought of more as a myth, like a unicorn; I’ll believe it when I see it. But this congregation really surprised me. The Judaism they practice seems as if it stems from an African tribe that never had contact with the rest of the global Jewish community after the diaspora. Several times I caught myself thinking “hey they’re reading this wrong,” or “they’re doing this wrong.” Then I had an Ethnic Studies realization that what they’re practicing isn’t wrong, it’s just different. What makes the Eurocentric version of Judaism today any more right than what they're doing? And once I had that little epiphany the rest of the service just made sense. There’s still a WHOLE LOT that I don’t know about the congregation (how they formed, who they are as individuals, how does their practice influence their lives, how do they celebrate the holidays, how did the Cohen get from the Bronx to Georgetown, and so much more) but I’d definitely like to find out. Who knows, you might just find me in my West African clothes, large wooden star, and large knit kippah next time I'm in town.