What a day!
No set breakfast time so lay at the end of the truck with the sun shining on my face and the familiar buzz of a fly ringing in my ears, feeling warm, rested and eager for the day. Vicki upped and went for a walk, unable to lie in; she was gone for ages and missed a gourmet Christmas breakfast of ham, eggs, pineapple, tomatoes, Kellogg’s cornflakes, and toast with butter and Vegemite.
Santa arrived after breakfast - actually Kelvin, sshhh! - wearing a red jumper and a red sleeping-bag cloak over red knickers and bare legs, his cheeks glowing rosy between a long white beard and a Dogon/Fulani hat decorated with red tinsel. Santa sat under the tree, surrounded by presents, and when he called each name we sat on his knee to get our presents and complimentary border pen; Santa's beard disintegrating as the gift giving continued. I received a cake of soap and a matching ring and Agadez cross from Kelvin and a sarong from Vicki in the fabric I had coveted but decided I couldn’t afford! All the presents for Santa/Kelvin, apart from the mask from Nikki, were alcoholic beverages! Fighter jets flying overhead spiced up the atmosphere.
Post-present Christmas hugs made me feel like I was with family.
The day progressed slowly, with goat barbecuing, balloon inflating, and stage preparations, before a late lunch of pineapple and banana fruit salad.
Helped prepare the Queen (English postman Jeff) for her three o’clock Christmas Message. His crown slipped but his balloon boobs did not and he nailed the royal wave. We toasted the Queen with a cuppa (alcoholic or otherwise) and tucked into an afternoon tea of Nikki's scrumptious oven-baked marmalade and rum-soaked mixed fruit and peal mince rolls. Yum!
And then it was time for the riotous Exodus 1985 African Christmas show.
Vicki and I kicked it off: wearing shorts and singlets, white zinc cream on our noses, and holding an Australian flat and a jar of Vegemite we launched into our ode to hot Christmases (with apologies to Eric Bogle, whose Aussie Bar-B-Q song we borrowed, the English language, and modern sensibilities).
The Downunder Shielas’ Song
As the temperature is soaring
Back home in Cobber land.
Round countless trees, with laidback ease,
There’s many a raucous band
Of bronzed and drunken Ozzies
Toasting ol’ Saint Nick.
By the heat of the sun, you can tell by gum
It’s Chrissy time again
CHORUS
When the sun is burning fiercely
And the house is full of flies
When the stock of beer ensures good cheer
Us Ockers realize
It’s the only way we’d have it
And we want you all to know
It’s not a dinkum Christmas mate
In freezing bloody snow
When the pressie bit is over
And the kids are all outside
The mums will start the cooking part
From the Women’s Weekly guide
It may be over 40
And the air conditioner bust
But they must prepare some gourmet fare
Hot food at any cost
CHORUS
Before they start the feasting
They’ll clear the cloud of flies
Roast turkey’s great in the Sunshine State
With pudding and cake and pies
It has to be traditional
Just like the dear old Poms
Even here in …. Burkino Faso?
Where the kids all cry “bonbons!”
CHORUS
The Poms eat cold peas pudding
The Swedes eat smorgasbords
The Swiss go crackers over their “Big Mackas”
And the Abo’s drink from gourds
The Canucks love their maple syrup
The Yanks their plastic food
And then the Dutch who don’t each much
Well, how could we be rude?!
CHORUS
But our rellies are Downunder
And you are now our mates
And we’ve no fear you’ll lose good cheer
From our slanging match of late
We hope that you’ll excuse us
‘Cause we’re sure you’ll all good chaps
We pull as one in the name of fun
And share communal craps
CHORUS
There’s flies stuck in the Angel Whirl
The kettles just won’t boil
The tinned fish is leaking so the whole truck is reeking
Of tomato sauce and oil
We’re nearly out of Vegemite
There’s weevils in the flour
Now we’re bereft ‘cause there’s just tins let
It’s dehydrated power
CHORUS
So here we are exploring
With all you Northern bods
We think you’re sissies for dreaming of white Chrissies
You’re a bunch of pale skinned clods
We finally decided
It’s time we let you know
That sand and sun are much more fun
Than freezing bloody snow.
CHORUS
When the sun is burning fiercely
And the truck is full of flies
When the stock of beer ensure good cheer,
Us Ockers realize
It’s the only way we’d have it
And we want you all to know.
THIS is a dinkum Christmas mate
You can stuff your bloody snow!
Next up was our three Swedes: scantily clad in green turban fabric they did a traditional Swedish frog dance to non-translated verse. They had us all up and following them, cavorting in the sunshine.
Julie gave a puppet show with Arab puppet and rubber snake. Ann led us in My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean, minus the ill Adri.
The fifth item, and the highlight of my day, was the performing pygmies: Jeff, very pink between blackface Bob and Kel, all kneeling with various shoes under their knees and strings tied to the end of the shoes leading up and through the truck, so a helper could tap their feet. They sang “Dat ol’ 4 Wheeler” to the tune of Old Man RIver (it became our truck song).
Dat ol’ four wheeler
De Bedford four wheeler
He keeps on rollin’
Jus’ keeps on rollin’
Dat ol’ four -wheeler
He jus’ keep rollin’ along
Him made in Luton
Him sprayed in Luton
Him roll out de factory
Him bright an’ shiny
Dat ol’ four wheeler
He jus’ keep rollin’ along
Him go to de army
Dem soldiers day are barmy
Dem regimental sappers
Dey drive like de clappers
Dat ol’ four wheeler
He jus’ keep rollin’ along
Exodus free him
From de slavery he be in
Dey take him to de sunshine
Dey give him a fun time
Dat ol’ four wheeler
He jus’ keep rollin’ along
Him finally christened Stanley
By his criminally insane family
De overlanders whacky
Smokin’ dat strange tobacky
Dat ol’ four wheeler
He jus’ keep rollin’ along
Stanley get to Mali
Where SMERT he ain’t so jolly
SMERT taken dem bribes a plenty
And retire from the twenty
On dat ol’ four wheeler
He just’ keep rollin’ along
Gearbox am clunky
Him lose big chunky
Him no go backward
He just go forward
Dat ol’ four wheeler
He just keep rollin’ along
African Explorer
Oh Bloody Nora
Him dirty and shitty
When him reach Jo’burg city
Dat ol’ four wheeler
He just keep rollin’ along
Next up on the show was Ben and Jim's impressions of their fellow passengers, occasionally cutting but all very funny.
The show concluded with Desert Ballet, starring Kelvin Baryshnikov and Marcus Nureyev in black tights and red knickers and Myrta Fontaine and Nikki Pavlova with mozzie net long tutus dancing to Strauss's "Vienna Blood".
Kel said in all his years of overlanding he'd never seen a show like it!
Concert over, we finished preparing for Christmas dinner, which included laying the table with white sleeping-sheet tablecloths and toilet paper serviettes, crackers and candles.
We feasted on roast goat, roast potatoes and onions, boiled carrots and tinned sprouts (part of the secret Christmas stash that only a few of us had known was on the truck), followed by tinned Christmas puddings with rum sauce. Given that we'd devoured two huge boxes of cream biscuits during the concert, everyone was stuffed by the end of the meal, and I couldn't eat the last two spoonfuls of pudding.
We washed up in shifts, and I pulled most of the tinsel off the truck and made Christmas bowties for everyone. A candlelight carol session quickly lost its way when Jeff started singing ribald versions, then led a chorus rendition of That Ol' 4 Wheeler, our voices well lubricated with alcohol (the number of beer-can decorations on our thorn tree had considerably increased during the day). I enjoyed every last drop of my Bailey's, upending the bottle into my mouth. We then lounged around to Bob Marley, the more energetic dancing but most of us in various stages of horizontal inclination.
What a wonderful Christmas Day. I hope my family had as much fun at home as I did in the middle of a border dispute but oblivious to it all.
The late BBC World Service news reported Mali's full-scale mobilisation, five tanks blown up, with five casualties, and a heightening of troubles. We have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but I headed to bed untroubled after a joyous day and good night cuddles.
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