In the remote villages of the Rupununi, Christmas preparations begin early when farmers go to their farms and harvest the cassava crop to make parakari, a potent brew whose alcoholic content can and usually does leave the imbiber in a delicate state.
Women along with the help of the men prepare the beverage, which depending on the length of time it is left to ferment is quite potent. There are competitions among the women to see who can produce the most heady beverage while among the men the one who can drink the most is the hero for probably an hour, after which he can usually be found sleeping off the effects of his heroism in the nearest convenient place.
Parakari or more commonly 'kari' is widely used along with a wide variety of other brews such as rice wine, sweet potato wine commonly known as 'fly' and illegal spirits imported from Brazil along with locally produced alcoholic beverages and local fruit juices.
Leading up to the big day there is an annual village hunt, directed by the village chief and his councillors, to provide meat for the annual Christmas day 'feed-up' during which the entire village is fed. This is often a monumental task, but somehow or the other it is always pulled off.
Apart from the hunt for wild animals, a village cow is fattened throughout the year. But at this time, no doubt aware of its imminent fate, that animal could never be found. Villagers search around, trying to think along the line of 'If I were a cow where would I be?' The unfortunate animal of course is always caught and made part of the feast, which also includes wild meat, chicken and fish prepared in a variety of ways along with other local foods.
The village's Roman Catholic Churches are also attended for Novena, a devotion consisting of nine consecutive days of prayer or services for a special purpose. It is not unusual to drive into a village at 4 am or 5 am to be greeted with candles burning brightly in the cold, dark morning as the villagers faithfully attend the service. It is believed that if you faithfully attend the entire nine days of services you would be blessed, though unbelieving youngsters tended to want, at that early, quite cold hour, to cling to the warmth of a bed. But with a mom and sisters at your back threatening to douse you with water, to manage to stay in bed on a Novena morning would be something akin to a minor miracle.
When Christmas Eve dawns villagers can be found in the local shops indulging in late shopping, a norm that pervades throughout Guyana, or at home preparing meals. There is also a village market where local produce is sold and where the money earned in sales is spent almost immediately. People crowd into the well-decorated churches where Christmas programmes with songs and plays depicting the Christmas story unfold as the clock slowly moves to the magical midnight hour. Then, squibs imported from nearby Brazil explode heralding the arrival of the long awaited Christmas Day.
In the morning, wide-eyed children bound out of bed to see what gifts are under the Christmas tree, which more often than not is a well-decorated local shrub that retains its greenery for quite a while and is cut especially for the festivity. After the presents are opened they are predictably squabbled over by children convinced that they like the other person's gift better than their own. Or if it is a particularly sought after toy, the proud owner gloats. That child can then find himself/herself with hordes of new friends eager to do anything to play with the toy, or shunned by jealous former buddies.
Christmas breakfast is sumptuous, filled with goodies that are not normally available throughout the year. Later, people get dressed in their best clothes go to church for the traditional Christmas Day service. Afterwards, it's games time; players square off with other teams and play a variety of games. Then comes the annual village 'feed-up' at which the variety of food available is unbelievable, while the speed at which it disappears is also mind-boggling.
Community leaders normally also erect a tree which interested persons place gifts under, with speculation rife as to who will receive a gift from someone.
In recent years, Santa Claus finally found his way to the Rupununi though he arrives in a cow-drawn cart and was likely on a diet as it is a slim Santa that arrives. On the other hand the heat of the hot Rupununi sun could possibly be the reason for his slimness.
As Christmas is also a time for weddings and other celebrations, parties fill the days and depending on the reputation of a village for hosting a great party, persons arrive from other villages miles away just to partake in the celebrations. The festivities are often scattered over a period of days.
If someone is unfortunate enough to host an unexciting party on the same day as another exciting one is held, that person would find that the guests attending are sparse. And depending on his circumstances he would then join up with the other party or else withdraw.
Of course, if the other party is unlucky enough to run out of drinks then the crowd would converge on the boring party and with renewed vigour make merry throughout the night. It is not uncommon also to find that a fete planned for one day is suddenly being celebrated days before as disreputable friends convince the man of the house that it wouldn't do any harm "just to have a few drinks". Naturally, it being a joyous season he would agree and as the day progresses and as he becomes inebriated, he would produce more drinks while his anxious wife watches apprehensively as the drinks meant for another day slowly disappear.
Pride is at stake as to who will create the most memorable party and households compete fiercely for this honour. The criteria for a memorable party is often the most potent drink, the largest number of persons present, the best and latest music being played, great food and, dubiously, how many persons are "knocked out" and their resulting antics. During the parties, celebrated with an exceptional dynamism, young, old, men, women, married, unmarried or whatever else, celebrate often for the entire night.
Not for them the music heard on the coast, rather it is the popular 'forro' music of nearby Brazil, which with its fast beat and quick movements often leaves the dancer exhausted. Some of the older people though manage to put the young ones to shame with their extraordinary energy.
Legends are created during these electrifying nights with persons rightfully or not earning names which leave them either with a sense of pride or mortified. An outstanding party is fondly remembered long after, with persons smugly regaling anyone not present with what happened there and informing them that they had missed out on a great time.
As it is a long-awaited season the parties continue until at least two weeks into the New Year. Then it is back to the normal routine of life as the people await yet another Christmas season.