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Faux Pas

Catullus 101

Multas per gentes et multa per aequora vectus

Carried through many nations and over many seas


advenio has miseras, frater, ad inferias,

I arrived, brother, for these wretched funeral rites


ut te postremo donarem munere mortis

So that I might present you with the last tribute of death


et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem.

and speak in vain to silent ash,


Quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum.

Since fortune has carried away from me you in the flesh


Heu miser indigne frater adempte mihi,

Atlas, poor brother, unfairly taken away from me,


nunc tamen interea haec, prisco quae more parentum

now in the meantime, nevertheless, these things which in the ancient custom of ancestors


tradita sunt tristi munere ad inferias,

are handed over as a sad tribute to the rites


accipe fraterno multum manantia fletu,

receive, dripping much with brotherly weeping.


atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale.

And forever, brother, hail and farewell.



Adonais written by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

Friday, September 02, 2011

Ode to Black Pudding and Souse

(Irregular Ode in Pentameter)

Small chattel-house where she was born and raised
In Maycock's village, her ancestral home;
Bare-foot youth on Sunday evenings did walk
Rope leashed black-belly sheep and goats, to graze
Weeds and grass on dust roads, with out boardwalk;
Mindful of cane-fields that grow planters' cash;
As arrowed canes swayed before cropping bash;






































Those cane-sucking youths watched Broomfield's sweet teeth
Skinned and strained, sweet crystals in crocus bags;
They lived just a stone-throw from grandma's house;
She sold villagers black pudding and souse;
In enamel plates without paper-bags.


Once each month early a Saturday morn,
The butcher came; slaughtered her homegrown boar,
To prepare for her unique Bajan fare;
Black pudding and souse she sold with great care;
Advents stance on this Bajan dish made clear;
Leviticus eleven be aware.


Black pudding and souse I have recipe;
A relic from days of by-gone slavery;
Handed down by grandmother Emily.
Legend says that colonial masters
Gifted to blacks; they owned in this country
Specific parts, carved from their butchered pig:
The head, feet, tail and the offal; Darwinly
They believed, slaves were full of infra dig
That matched, their "fine-china from calabash";
Look at pictures below and toss your mind:
Prime cuts of hog for themselves; they did stash;
Feasting on shoulder chops, loin chops,
Spare ribs, bacon and ham in posh housetops.







Back in the village folks are thinking now
How best to make delicious new cuisine
That blends various parts off their master’s sow;
Who among them would do what, when and how?
Maxine was given the pig’s head to clean;
She cut it in two parts and removed brain;
Pam Smith-Skeete cleaned ears, tails and sow's trotters;
Tossing them in iron pot that squatters
Boiling in salt on dried peels from the cane
Cooking done; set aside for meat to cool;
Cooled meat cut in slices off bones in bowl
Of pickle made of salt water, limejuice,
Cucumber, few red peppers diced, not whole;
Now sits in larder garnished with parsley;
Souse now in pickle marinates coolly;
This dish of ingenious necessity
Waits, for boudin noir trail joints to roll in;
Clean logistics worked out for pudding skin;

Black pudding, English name for boudin noir
Pig's blood captured in bowl with vinegar
Poor pig hangs in the air, head down is silent;
Blood gushed from pig's head like opened hydrant;
On hell's ground pig wailed 'oink, oink damned tyrant';








































Not so, just doing the job says Nellie:
Block all clots, we must from sausage entry;
Use cheese-cloth to ward off transmigration,
And stir, stir away, the coagulation;
That bloody blood; don't want it thickening
Tanti now is cleaning the chitterling
Intestines, yanked from monogastric pig;
She cleans filth, slime, fat from guts' swirling jig.
Faecal matter removed entirely;
Meg prepares the casings for black pudding.






















Minds boggle, how folks clean well, heaps of gut;
Water from stand pipe in a small mud hut;
Rounds of guts she cleans meticulously well;
No tips from Department of public health;
Just tips from wise old heads to her did tell:
Cut the guts in equal lengths with clippers;
Rubbing hard with the pads of your fingers
Like when you wash clothes, cut mucous with lime;
Plenty salt and spoon to remove the slime;
Now turn inside out with this cane-trash stick;
Now clean all over again and again;
Blow up guts like balloon so clean and clear
Plunge in salt water for hours remain.

For hours henceforth guts steep with salina;
While Marge grates sweet potatoes in tin bowl;
Adds thyme, sweet marjoram, Bajan sugar
With mixed shallots, and dash of clove powder;
Blends bloody ingredients make mixture
Loose consistency, casings will control;
Kay packs casings with mixture not tightly ;
Using funnel, fills casings not fully;




Just like grandma force-feeding her turkey;
Old-fashioned tool; but yet very sturdy;
Ties each casing's ends to make sausage roll;





Coils of sausages in bottom of pot
In boiling water, one hour to squat;
Until potatoes in natural casing
Are as firm to the touch, in the testing;
And are not busting their skins, and burning.

Little did these slaves know that their culinary arts
Would be a dish pleasing so many hearts;
Oinks, joints, blood, tears, of ingenuity
Have made unwanted pig parts, real soul-dish
Where the rich, the middle class and poor folks
Eat, black pudding and souse with much relish;
A bold statement that cut off racial yokes;
Where those folks on tiny coral island,
Gushing waters of true democracy.
Food, a way to most hearts in many ways;
Served on high days, and holidays,
Independence festivals, crop-over and,
Never at Easter, that would be gross.
Black pudding and souse still in great demand;
This soul-food, deep in culture and sucrose.




© Paterika Hengreaves
September 2011/Barbados

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In plenty and in time of need
When this fair land was young
Our brave forefathers sowed the seed
From which our pride was sprung
A pride that makes no wanton boast
Of what it has withstood
That binds our hearts from coast to coast
The pride of nationhood



Chorus:


We loyal sons and daughters all
Do hereby make it known
These fields and hills beyond recall
Are now our very own
We write our names on history's page
With expectations great
Strict guardians of our heritage
Firm craftsmen of our fate




The Lord has been the people's guide
For past three hundred years.
With Him still on the people's side
We have no doubts or fears.
Upward and onward we shall go,
Inspired, exulting, free,
And greater will our nation grow
In strength and unity.



Chorus


We loyal sons and daughters all
Do hereby make it known
These fields and hills beyond recall
Are now our very own
We write our names on history's page
With expectations great
Strict guardians of our heritage
Firm craftsmen of our fate

The tree that gave Barbados its name

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Thank God only minor damage has been caused by this 7.0 Earthquake in New Zealand's North and South Islands.

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National Anthems of New Zealand

Anthem 1

Māori Version

E Ihowā Atua,
O ngā iwi mātou rā
Āta whakarangona;
Me aroha noa
Kia hua ko te pai;
Kia tau tō atawhai;
Manaakitia mai
Aotearoa

Ōna mano tāngata
Kiri whero, kiri mā,
Iwi Māori, Pākehā,
Rūpeke katoa,
Nei ka tono ko ngā hē
Māu e whakaahu kē,
Kia ora mārire
Aotearoa

Tōna mana kia tū!
Tōna kaha kia ū;
Tōna rongo hei pakū
Ki te ao katoa
Aua rawa ngā whawhai
Ngā tutū e tata mai;
Kia tupu nui ai
Aotearoa

Waiho tona takiwā
Ko te ao mārama;
Kia whiti tōna rā
Taiāwhio noa.
Ko te hae me te ngangau
Meinga kia kore kau;
Waiho i te rongo mau
Aotearoa

Tōna pai me toitū
Tika rawa, pono pū;
Tōna noho, tāna tū;
Iwi nō Ihowā.
Kaua mōna whakamā;
Kia hau te ingoa;
Kia tū hei tauira;
Aotearoa

English Version

God of Nations at Thy feet,
In the bonds of love we meet,
Hear our voices, we entreat,
God defend our free land.
Guard Pacific's triple star
From the shafts of strife and war,
Make her praises heard afar,
God defend New Zealand.

Men of every creed and race,
Gather here before Thy face,
Asking Thee to bless this place,
God defend our free land.
From dissension, envy, hate,
And corruption guard our state,
Make our country good and great,
God defend New Zealand.

Peace, not war, shall be our boast,
But, should foes assail our coast,
Make us then a mighty host,
God defend our free land.
Lord of battles in Thy might,
Put our enemies to flight,
Let our cause be just and right,
God defend New Zealand.

Let our love for Thee increase,
May Thy blessings never cease,
Give us plenty, give us peace,
God defend our free land.
From dishonour and from shame,
Guard our country's spotless name,
Crown her with immortal fame,
God defend New Zealand.

May our mountains ever be
Freedom's ramparts on the sea,
Make us faithful unto Thee,
God defend our free land.
Guide her in the nations' van,
Preaching love and truth to man,
Working out Thy glorious plan,
God defend New Zealand.

Anthem 2

God Save the Queen

God save our gracious Queen,
Long live our noble Queen,
God save The Queen.
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us:
God save The Queen.

O Lord our God, arise,
Scatter our enemies,
And make them fall;
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks;
On thee our hopes we fix:
God save us all.

Thy choicest gifts in store
On her be pleased to pour,
Long may she reign.
May she defend our laws,
And ever give us cause
To sing with heart and voice,
God save The Queen.

Note: The second verse of 'God Save The Queen' is commonly omitted.

Edmund Hillary

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