Sunday, April 7, 2013

THE MEAT SAFE


THE MEAT SAFE

Memory is a funny thing. It takes you back into the past and more often than not, evokes a strain of nostalgia that harks back to days of innocence and wanton abandon, days when everything looked big in the eyes of a child, days of simple needs and even simpler technology.

Memory quite stealthily surfaced upon me this morning and from somewhere within the deep recesses of my mind, from somewhere in the quiet country air of three decades ago, from somewhere in the psyche of an Anglo-Indian childhood, memory brought unto me the word “meat safe’ as I tossed and turned in bed trying to catch a little more shut-eye.

The tossing and turning might have partly been due to the fact that two days ago, in a fit of impatient defrosting, I quite adeptly managed to puncture the tubing in our fridge causing the refrigerant to leak with a viciously serpentine hiss. The luxury of refrigeration would now have to wait for Monday morning as sleepy little Ndola does very little over the weekend. And as I wondered about food storage for the next day or two, the image and the word floated in on the wings of memory.

“The meat safe: must be an Anglo-Indian thing,” I said to myself. “Can’t be exclusively Anglo-Indian,” another part of me replied. “But, I have seen it mostly – only?  - in Anglo-Indian homes”, the alter ego replied almost immediately. “Perhaps it is a colonial thing,” retaliation was instant! This mental “tossing and turning” far more strenuous than the physical one, and with much greater force as well, had tossed me out of bed and propelled me straight to the laptop.

Why not do the obvious? Let’s google the word. And I immediately went to the world’s most trusted source of information since 2001, hoping to see the ubiquitous Wikipedia rank high on the list in response to my query.

How disappointed I was! No Wikipedia entry. But, wait the images offered did strike a chord and I scrolled down the page with some anticipation. Disappointment again. “Is meat safe when I am pregnant?”, “Is red meat safe for children?”, “Detect DNA in horse meat!” are some of Google’s responses on its first page!

There was one reference though, near the top of the page: the free online dictionary which stated that it was a safe for storing meat. How mundane and unimaginative, but then, dictionaries do not offer you imagination. They offer straightforward definitions, in black and white. Life – and experiencing it as much as you can – offers imagination in a plethora of colours! And with that, I abandoned any queries on the meat safe and decided to put myself to memory’s mercy and conjure up my real meaning of the meat safe.

Tucked in the left-hand corner of our dining room, it stood there proudly, its legs nicely balanced on four square cement blocks that carried moats of water within them. The wood always smelled warm and delicious while the mesh provided a nice view of the different goodies in its three tiers of fresh warmth. I remember my brother and I taking turns to fill the moats of water around all four legs.

“Don’t spill the water, now,” Mum-Mum would say.

“But, why do you fill these holes with water?” I would ask, curious as usual.

“So that the ants and insects don’t climb up and eat the food,” Papa would say gently.

Knowledge would dawn on our faces and we’d continue eagerly. Today, as memory brings back that conversation, I can smell the dankness of the water as it filled up the moats. That is my meaning of a meat safe.

The mesh, I was later told, was not actually meant so that wide-eyed children could come back from school and gaze into the meat safe to see what goodies were in store for the night. It was meant to circulate air inside and ventilate the meat safe so that it was cool enough. It also prevented flies and other insects from flitting about those delicious treats. That is my meaning of a meat safe.

Memory now reminds me of those Sunday afternoons when all was quiet and the household would be having a little lie-down. Quietly, my brother, Mark and I, would sneak up to it and open it up to dig our hands into the jars of jaggery stored on the bottommost shelf. That was as far as we could reach back then. Often, someone else would join us on these afternoon quests: Papa. More stealthily than we imagined ourselves to be, he would dig into those jars and hand over chunks of jaggery quietly whispering, “Don’t tell anyone, ok?” Happy and excited to have an adult partner in crime, we would nod vigorously. That is my meaning of a meat safe. (Eventually, a key went into it and Memory is presently not forthcoming in letting me know if we ever found that key!)

The fridge was there, of course. I do not know when it was acquired, but I was still a very wee lad, for I remember it was on the opposite end of the meat safe. Still, for all its ‘luxurious’ properties the fridge could not rival the meat safe. For on top of that antiquated piece of furniture were tins: bread tins, cake tins, biscuit tins, all types of tins. The tin that received a lot of attention from yours truly was the “appalam” tin. Just before lunch, now and then, I would get a little stool and jump up to grab an appalam or two when no one was around. Getting to it was a tricky business, for if only the tin slipped out of my hands as I stood on tip-toe there would be scattered evidence of my crime. And that is something I did not want, did I? That is my meaning of a meat safe.

Christmas time was extra special. Memory informs me of eager little children licking empty bowls of cake mixture that had just been sent to the baker or, later on, put in the oven. And as she (memory) brings such a warm family picture to mind, she also reminds me of those cul-culs, rose cookies and marzipan that the meat safe would proudly store ready for guests who dropped in for a visit during the Christmas season. Yes, Christmas was always busy and as I remember the neighbourhood uncles and aunts who visited us during Yule Tide, I also remember trips to the meat safe to fill up plates and bowls of festive cheer. That is my meaning of a meat safe.

As I grew older, the meat safe became a place for coffee and tea. It became a place of more modern mass-marketed crisps and cookies. It became a place from which we would serve ourselves lunch and dinner. It became a place from which I would serve my now aging grandmother lunch, dinner and soup. Of course, trips to the fridge became more frequent and slowly, the meat safe wasn’t as exciting as it used to be. Yet, it still stood there, an antiquated, but proud piece of furniture. That is my meaning of a meat safe.

The meat safe, I am sure, was definitely a part of Anglo-Indian iconography during my generation and preceding ones as well. Given the modern technology around us, though, it is close to, if not already at extinction. Whether the meat safe offered others like me some sort of meaning in their childhood, I do not know. Whether it has now become a repertory of childhood memory spontaneously recollected in adulthood, I do not know. Whether the meat safe that I have alluded to throughout this piece still exists, I do not know. Whether it has been confined to the scrap heap is also a question I cannot answer, for since I left home nearly two decades ago to forge my own life, the pressures and concerns of adulthood put that childhood love affair far away from my mind: until today. One thing I do know: it will continue to be a tangible part of my life! Why? Simply because today, it is the ‘safe’ of an enchanted childhood, one that I was privileged to receive from doting grandparents in quaint and quiet little Arkonam. That is my meaning of the meat safe.

For an hour now, I have been consumed with the meat safe; a significant amount of time, I’d say given my last encounter with it was ages ago. But, then memory does funny things, doesn’t it? It looks at childhood experiences from an adult perspective and offers a sense of warmth and comfort. No, I do not want to go back into the past and yearn for the good old days; no, I do not want to go out and acquire an antiquated meat safe; no, I do not want to become a child once more. I want to walk around today and conjure up images of the meat safe as I go about my daily chores. Why, you may ask? Simply because, the meat safe informs the adult me about the child I once was. That is my meaning of the meat safe.
Glossary for words that might seem strange:
Mum-Mum: Our word from grandmother. Given the double Mum it makes sense!
Papa: The Anglo-Indian term for grandfather.
appallam: A fried snack. Often called a Pappadum.
cul-culs, rosecookies: Anglo-Indian snacks made at Christmas time.