Exotic Rituals (Pig Roast #9)

Consider it a cultural event.

Our family has a pig roast every year. Or, at least, we have had a pig roast every year for the past nine years, which I think makes it an official annual event.

As a child, I enjoyed our local county fair. I thought of it as a rather ‘big deal’ until I became an older teen/ young adult and decided that such things were rather ‘small townish’ – pedestrian at best, horrifyingly hillbilly-ish at their worst.

And then I left my small town and traveled abroad, and fell in love with the history and culture and ‘exotic rituals’ of so many small festivals. I bounced on a rock suspended by bamboo poles at the ‘Inoko Festival.’ I swam through the streets of Jakarta, buoyed along by the waves of reeds celebrating fertility. I sat on a stone wall on top of a mesa at 4:30am to watch a tribe welcome the sunrise - following a tip by a local tribesperson who really should not have told us at all. We hid respectfully in the shadows, behind the mesmerized children.

I digress. A pig roasted by suburbanites could not possibly compare to events of such intense historical significance.

Our pig roast shadows a long forgotten, anthropologically insignificant event. The ones that leave a little trace and no higher story. The evidence leaves historians puzzled. They wonder why that artifact existed, seemingly used only occasionally. It doesn’t fit the greater myth.

We don’t know why they did that.

Maybe those ancient elders were not so unlike us at all. Perhaps sometimes they did things simply because they needed a reason to do something. Perhaps they knew that cousins exist through shared bloodline, but ‘cousins’ become meaningful through shared experience.

Some rituals are meant to leave more of an impression on the attendees than on history.

When I saw my husband and his brothers lift their roasted pig high above their heads to clear the back fence, I wondered if so many rituals begin that way. Long after the fence were to fall away, the youngsters watching continue to raise the pig high in the air – and only later special meaning becomes attached to the motion.

Perhaps.

To my children, nine years might as well be nine hundred. The event holds significance beyond a simple backyard bbq, and they follow their elders with great interest, memorizing the patterns to repeat them as lore, tell them as myth, if only in their hearts.

As I travel with my children, I love to see their eyes devour the details of different cultures, ancient traditions, and exotic rituals. I also wonder if those ancient elders weren’t just a teensy weensy bit happy when those wide-eyed progeny finally curled up to sleep.

With great relief, we put away our exotic rituals for another year.

Pictures from this year might be available eventually, when my husband's computer recovers from the malady by which it is afflicted.

Remember the Pig Roast last year, Mom?

It rained today.

“Hey, Mom, do you remember LAST year right before the Pig Roast when it rained and . . . “

I remember. On Sunday before the big event I was going through my list in my head . . . Tuesday & Wednesday final prep on the house and errands, Thursday in-laws arrive (15 for dinner), Friday put the pig on the coals & set up tents in the back yard, Saturday 100 or so guests. I think I have everything . . . .

“Honey, my sister called,” my husband’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “She’s in a bind for a work event. She wants to drop her three kids off here on Tuesday morning and then she’ll be back late Wednesday night.” (My sisters-in-law are immensely helpful in putting together the party).

“Oh, really?”

“Is that a problem? I would normally help you out, but this week is going to be busy since I’m taking Friday off.”

“Uh, well, it wasn’t really in my plan and all, but I guess we can work that in,” I replied lamely. Let’s see . . . six kids ages 10, 8, 6, 4, 2, and 7 months, big party coming up.

“You guys will have all day Thursday to get anything done.”

I decided that as soon as they walked in the door Tuesday morning, the fun would begin. We would take pictures of everything. My 8-yr-old niece would be in charge of scrap-booking it before her mom returned (I don’t scrapbook). We had 48 hours.

We went to the zoo, had ice cream, played, cleaned the house, ran a few errands. That was the first day. The next day we had to get busy.

By the next day, it had become a bit of a lark walking into stores with six children. Their ages were perfect – everyone just assumed they had to be all mine. They had paired up and figured out a system and were so incredibly giggly and happy everywhere we went that the man at the meat market gave them all free samples even though they were running around with the carts (oh, and we bought over 40 lbs of brisket and would be back for the pig on Friday). We went to Walmart. We went piñata shopping.

“How much candy do we need Aunt E?”

“Oh, my, lots I think. No, no, get the bigger one, we don’t want to run out.” I spent a little extra on candy that day, but it was worth the entertainment. “Didn’t I tell you to get the BIG one?”

When I went to get the wardrobe boxes for the smoker lid (yes, this is a fancy operation) it began to rain. Think about this: six kids in a minivan with enough food for a huge party, two piñatas, candy and paper goods from Walmart. Where would you put two flattened wardrobe boxes?

It started to rain harder.

I tried to push it in the back. I ran around to one side and then the other. The kids were in complete hysterics. I wasn’t sure if it was just the rain in my face or if I was laughing so hard I was starting to cry.

Finally, with one big push, I shoved the boxes between the front row of seats and the second row, right behind the driver’s seat. The laughter now was a complete uproar. I jumped into my seat, looked in my rearview mirror and saw . . . box.

“Hey, where did everybody go???” More laughter.

By the time we got home and unloaded the car, everyone was pretty soaked. I needed to start dinner to feed this tribe. The kids had been in the car awhile and were ready to run around. It was raining harder now.

“What should we do, Aunt E?”

“I don’t know, you are already wet anyway, how about the slip n slide??”

For over an hour, five hysterical and soaked kids played outside in the rain. I made dinner, fed the baby. Everything on the list was done. By the time their mom came back they were all dry, the scrapbook was done, and the little ones were in bed.

There was Andrew’s voice again. “Do you remember, Mom? Do remember we all played slip-n-slide in the backyard in the rain?”

“Yes, that was pretty awesome, wasn’t it Sweetie?”

“All the way awesome.”

What DOES one wear to a pig roast?

Our family has an annual pig roast. I could explain how that happened, but perhaps that is a story for another time. The bottom line for today is that for the past five years, we have been the hosts of this gala event. This year, my in-laws are hosting.

This could explain why I have slightly more time on my hands this summer to do things like blog. I am NOT having over 100 people to my house. I will not have 30 or so here for several days.


To my children, this event is no less significant than Christmas. It's HUGE. Which, of course, is among the reasons the event continues. And, probably the only reason that there is a twinge of sadness that the event isn't at our house. That, and the fact that I like having people over.

In any case, I have not had much chance to be online because I am preparing for an event on the order of magnitude of Christmas. The above picture is of the dress I made for my daughter for the event. In case the picture is not clear, that is a 3T dress made out of pigs-wallowing-in-mud fabric. Honestly, I would consider cutting corners and buying one, but I have noticed that few manufacturers make dresses featuring pigs wallowing in mud. Shocking, isn't it?

I should, of course, have a picture of the collared shirt I am making for my son that features "pigs-riding-on-motorcycles", except that it is not done. It will be done tomorrow night, in time for the weekend festivities.

I am not sure why these are not popular themes, especially considering the big holiday this time of year. Really, just ask my kids. I tucked them in tonight and the last words out of their mouths?

"Happy Pig Roast, Mommy."