[U]Cosmos and the Suckling Pig.[/U]
Just before the Biafran War, which whether by gun-toting mercenaries or the bloody slash of the simple machete, cost the lives of 2 million people; there were happier times which are the ones I prefer to remember.
Father had a good jod as Transportation Superintendant for Shell B.P. in Port Harcourt and after I ran away from Kings Canterbury(Sturrey, Kent) at the age of 8, my Mother insisted on a stop to the good old English Public ($$$ private) School education. So, I boarded a B.O.A.C. 707 at Heathrow accompanied by an International Aunt as they were known in those days, bound for Lagos and onwards to Port Harcourt by Shell's Fokker Friendship. All a great adventure for a young whipper-snapper like me.
When the plane door was opened, I was met by the now all too familiar blast of hot, humid, tropical air and of course my dear parents; standing expectantly awaiting their wayward son with beaming smiles and arms outstreched. After the joyful rounds of hugs and how-are-you's were over, I was introduced to a very large Nigerian man with a sunny disposition whose name was Cosmos and was told that he was our Chief Houseboy and he would take care of the little luggage I had brought along and we headed for the exit and what was to be my new home.
Umukoroshi was a small country village just outside Port Harcourt; where Shell had built a large housing complex, complete with schools, hospital, commissary and a very nice Club. Everything an expatriate could need on the African equator, thousands of miles from their respective countries of origin which were indeed diverse. I loved it straight away and quickly put English private school trials and tribulations to the back of my mind and settled into the normal routine of "camp" life which I was born into in Maracaibo, Venezuela and Casabe, Colombia. Cosmos and I soon became chums and what he said, went as gospel amongst the small group of gardeners and servants which my father and mother had under contract with their families.
Cosmos had other talents which had brought him acclaim; one of which was the effortless ease with which he flawlessly executed his employer's orders. This ran the gamut from a rowdy get together of the drilling rig personnel, to formal dinner parties for fifty or more guests. Nothing was too much for him and his prowess soon caught the attention of the Managing Director's wife, who was a regular vistor at our house as she was a close friend of my Mother.
To cut an already long story short, Mrs. Baxendale had designs on Cosmos Umbegwe for her upcoming Christmas Party and of course my Mother could not refuse her request that he be the Master of Ceremonies at this occassion; known far and wide for it's auspicious guest list, comprising not only high ranking company officials but also the leaders of Biafra, including Col. Ojukwu himself.
As the time neared, planning the details came to the forefront in the Baxendale household. Cosmos was constantly summoned to speak with this or that servant to assure that there was nothing missed in the translation from, plum Hampshire English into the "pidgin", spoken my the majority of the Ibos, Calabaris and Hausas as a common language. Five course menus were drawn up to include everything from canapes to sorbet, turkey with sage and onion stuffing to Baked Alaska for dessert. For added variety with flourish, clay-oven roasted Suckling Pig was to be a high point in the procedings. Cosmos was to to be the bearer of this wieghty offering with much pomp and circumstance.
I should mention at this juncture, that this story has been told so many times by numerous narrators, my father (always a wag) included, that I cannot vouch that it has not endured a number of artistic embellishments in the telling over the years. One had to be there, which I wasn't, to truly experience and therefore have the right, to a little poetic license.
On the night of the dress rehersal everything went more or less as planned and barring a few minor details such as how to set a table correctly for so many courses and which were the correct glasses for the various wines. Cosmos was given his instructions and did a dry run with the salver held high, obviously without the swine in place. He was told to "Entah wid di pig; apple fo' mouth, both arms above di head when you heah di musick Auld Langsyne". Simple enough. Cosmos slept peacefully in his quarters behind our house, everything was in order.
Finally, after much pregnant expectation, it was the night of the party and the guests began to arrive in all their finery. Quite a colourful sight, contrasting W. African National Dress with frigid Antartic Penguin and Western evening gowns.
Once all the guests had arrived and the band had warmed them up with a few fast numbers, drink continued to flow and the party moved into full swing. Dancing made everyone hungry and the delicious smells from the large kitchen made for eager diners when the bell was finally rung to announce the commencement of dinner.
With all the guests seated; soup, sorbets to freshen the palate already eaten and the chilled Chardonay already poured, the guests stood and joined hands as the band struck up Auld Langsyne. The sign for Cosmos.
The doors of the kitchen swung and were held open for the Master of Ceremonies who entered as all heads turned as one to witness this much heralded event. True to form and immaculate, in full dress uniform, this regal man bore a large tray aloft with an equally large young pig upon it, decorated with all manner of garnishes as befitted a dish so lovingly prepared. However, one small detail was missing from below the aspic glazed eyes and snout. The apple, which was clenched not by the Suckling Pig but firmly in the centre of Cosmos's ample mouth! He had in fact been following his orders, to the letter, as always.
Bashley
Just before the Biafran War, which whether by gun-toting mercenaries or the bloody slash of the simple machete, cost the lives of 2 million people; there were happier times which are the ones I prefer to remember.
Father had a good jod as Transportation Superintendant for Shell B.P. in Port Harcourt and after I ran away from Kings Canterbury(Sturrey, Kent) at the age of 8, my Mother insisted on a stop to the good old English Public ($$$ private) School education. So, I boarded a B.O.A.C. 707 at Heathrow accompanied by an International Aunt as they were known in those days, bound for Lagos and onwards to Port Harcourt by Shell's Fokker Friendship. All a great adventure for a young whipper-snapper like me.
When the plane door was opened, I was met by the now all too familiar blast of hot, humid, tropical air and of course my dear parents; standing expectantly awaiting their wayward son with beaming smiles and arms outstreched. After the joyful rounds of hugs and how-are-you's were over, I was introduced to a very large Nigerian man with a sunny disposition whose name was Cosmos and was told that he was our Chief Houseboy and he would take care of the little luggage I had brought along and we headed for the exit and what was to be my new home.
Umukoroshi was a small country village just outside Port Harcourt; where Shell had built a large housing complex, complete with schools, hospital, commissary and a very nice Club. Everything an expatriate could need on the African equator, thousands of miles from their respective countries of origin which were indeed diverse. I loved it straight away and quickly put English private school trials and tribulations to the back of my mind and settled into the normal routine of "camp" life which I was born into in Maracaibo, Venezuela and Casabe, Colombia. Cosmos and I soon became chums and what he said, went as gospel amongst the small group of gardeners and servants which my father and mother had under contract with their families.
Cosmos had other talents which had brought him acclaim; one of which was the effortless ease with which he flawlessly executed his employer's orders. This ran the gamut from a rowdy get together of the drilling rig personnel, to formal dinner parties for fifty or more guests. Nothing was too much for him and his prowess soon caught the attention of the Managing Director's wife, who was a regular vistor at our house as she was a close friend of my Mother.
To cut an already long story short, Mrs. Baxendale had designs on Cosmos Umbegwe for her upcoming Christmas Party and of course my Mother could not refuse her request that he be the Master of Ceremonies at this occassion; known far and wide for it's auspicious guest list, comprising not only high ranking company officials but also the leaders of Biafra, including Col. Ojukwu himself.
As the time neared, planning the details came to the forefront in the Baxendale household. Cosmos was constantly summoned to speak with this or that servant to assure that there was nothing missed in the translation from, plum Hampshire English into the "pidgin", spoken my the majority of the Ibos, Calabaris and Hausas as a common language. Five course menus were drawn up to include everything from canapes to sorbet, turkey with sage and onion stuffing to Baked Alaska for dessert. For added variety with flourish, clay-oven roasted Suckling Pig was to be a high point in the procedings. Cosmos was to to be the bearer of this wieghty offering with much pomp and circumstance.
I should mention at this juncture, that this story has been told so many times by numerous narrators, my father (always a wag) included, that I cannot vouch that it has not endured a number of artistic embellishments in the telling over the years. One had to be there, which I wasn't, to truly experience and therefore have the right, to a little poetic license.
On the night of the dress rehersal everything went more or less as planned and barring a few minor details such as how to set a table correctly for so many courses and which were the correct glasses for the various wines. Cosmos was given his instructions and did a dry run with the salver held high, obviously without the swine in place. He was told to "Entah wid di pig; apple fo' mouth, both arms above di head when you heah di musick Auld Langsyne". Simple enough. Cosmos slept peacefully in his quarters behind our house, everything was in order.
Finally, after much pregnant expectation, it was the night of the party and the guests began to arrive in all their finery. Quite a colourful sight, contrasting W. African National Dress with frigid Antartic Penguin and Western evening gowns.
Once all the guests had arrived and the band had warmed them up with a few fast numbers, drink continued to flow and the party moved into full swing. Dancing made everyone hungry and the delicious smells from the large kitchen made for eager diners when the bell was finally rung to announce the commencement of dinner.
With all the guests seated; soup, sorbets to freshen the palate already eaten and the chilled Chardonay already poured, the guests stood and joined hands as the band struck up Auld Langsyne. The sign for Cosmos.
The doors of the kitchen swung and were held open for the Master of Ceremonies who entered as all heads turned as one to witness this much heralded event. True to form and immaculate, in full dress uniform, this regal man bore a large tray aloft with an equally large young pig upon it, decorated with all manner of garnishes as befitted a dish so lovingly prepared. However, one small detail was missing from below the aspic glazed eyes and snout. The apple, which was clenched not by the Suckling Pig but firmly in the centre of Cosmos's ample mouth! He had in fact been following his orders, to the letter, as always.
Bashley
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