Long time ago…“pol kudu” and “cheena patas”
This kudu, used small particles, of leftovers from coconut scrapings became crucial at Christmas-time. The rich milk of the coconut scrapings had been over the whole year the base liquid for most curries, after which the kudu was thrown into the dustbin. But in the days before Christmas, the kudu became valuable and was spared its disposal. It was carefully stored for the 23rd morning.
These days, I have not seen cement floors in homes. Other materials like wood have taken over. But at No. 7/4, Hamers Avenue, in those times, it was all cement, and in our home, red cement. Its attractiveness was never fully apparent through the year. The floors lost their entitled red glimmer by usual usage and bare necessary broom sweeping. But then this was Christmas, and homes had to look very different from the lowly manger, where the event now celebrated began.
Early in the morning of the 23rd, Kussi Amma Alice came on to the dull red cement with a large bag of saved pol kudu. Alice was accomplished, for she had been doing this for years, Christmas after Christmas, with a special broom with strong bristles at the bottom. For difficult corners Alice Amma was on her knees, always showing joy doing this Christmas chore, for us. She was a Buddhist with true feelings for others.
Soon all the kudu had scrubbed off and absorbed all the dust and dirt. The verandah, sitting room and dining room floor glistened in bright red shining surfaces. Alice pleased with her efforts, having collected the now dark brown dirty kudu in a bag, retreated to her kitchen which had a dull grey coloured cement.
The tree was then brought into the sitting room which was ready to receive it, with reflection below.
Now, the ‘Cheena patas’, on the evening of the 24th. They are diminutive little firecrackers, so small that when fired, the sound is a modest acknowledgement, just a quick but soft ‘patas’. Very unlike the other gunpowder fireworks that were loud, dangerous if misused, and flashed hugely into the Wellawatte night, handled only by our mother and Alice Amma in the small garden in front of the verandah. Our father sat on an easy chair up in the verandah, in a supervisory attitude, a smile on his face, an arrack in his hand.
Cheena Patas, we children were allowed to set going. Our friends down the lane joined me and my three younger brothers and sister to enjoy ‘Cheena patas’. There were the Reid brothers – Claude, Ronnie, Buddy and Barney, later to become famous Ceylon cricketers. There were also the Potger boys, one of whom became well known in Melbourne music circles. The very small firecrackers were never lighted singly. They were fixed on either side of a string in two rows, hung on a stick or line, and lighted at the bottom, then going “pata pata patas” successively to the top. We danced around, enjoying.
All knew what the word ‘patas’ conveyed but none of us, what ‘Cheena’ was, at our children’s ages. Only long after we had grown up and left Wellawatte did we get to know of a country that had also grown up from the harmless ‘patas’ stage to much louder and dangerous sounds.
Alice Amma was always there to enjoy with us. Later in the night we had our tasty Christmas Eve dinner, and then to our beds. Before falling asleep, we still had the pata pata remembered, even more gently, in our ears.
So long ago……..
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