Day 4: a storm to remember
Sunday was a casual day. I woke up, cleaned up a bit and left for the Men's Cookout Contest.
The origins of the Cookout were put down in really simple terms, but apparently this benefit fair was (ahem) cooked up by the wives of influential men as a nice counter to the idea that women should be the ones doing the cooking. The cookout is a contest between teams of men running food stalls, where the aim is to be the best at selling food and drink to the attending crowd. This non-profit food fair attracts a large number of people and excellent chefs.
Spang Makandra was competing as well. Sure, winning is always a nice prospect, but Vincent had more ulterior motives in mind. The preparations, manufacturing and selling of their goods was an excellent exercise in teamwork, and it would be a nice way to raise more awareness to this young and promising company.
When I arrived, I had to hand it to them, the whole setup was an enormeous undertaking, and they were taking it all in with glee and enthousiasm I couldn't match for the life of me. I ran into Jeffrey again, who was accompanied with his ladyfriend and Paul.
I was barely there when it hit us -a tropical storm came raging across the bay, visible like a sheet of rain cutting through the water. Straight for us.
Oh boy...
Impromptu relocation of grills, gas tanks, electric devices happened everywhere. When the storm hit the waterfront, it was massive. Rain poured down in torrents, thunder cracked and boomed quite dramatically, the inflatable toy castle upturned and squashed the little booth next to it. Across the street, a tent upturned. "This won't be good for attendance", Vincent quipped.
Despite all that, his primary concern was met -the team took the whole thing in stride, started cheering and singing in Sranantongo. People in the other booths looked bemused and puzzled at this explosion of optimism, but damn me if it wasn't catching. Contestants still tried to rescue their cooking, but with less of a grim determination than before.
The storm raged on, turning most of the place into mud. Jeffrey managed to come out of the ordeal with a completely mud-cacked back, which of course didn't really do wonders for the initially white clothes he wore. In comparison, I got off lucky -I got soaked to the point where a wet t-shirt contest would be doable. It just added to the cheerful hilarity in the Spang Makandra tent.
When the weather finally brightened up, crowds bustled in. Music started blaring, people were loudly advertising their wares and the team got to work. Their secret weapon: Buru Heri Heri (I certainly hope I got that one spelled right, or else I'll bnever hear the end of it). I was confounded by the preparations needed for a complete meal on the menu, so I was pretty much reduced to being the guy to hand others implements, water and other vital things. I really need to look into the cuisine here. A richly filled peanut soup was another high seller, while a squad of trainees was concentrating on bbq'ing an impressive amount of meat. Lou was selling a copious amount of Spang Cocktail, which contained a rather hefty dose of alcohol while tasting pretty innocent. I had plenty of them during the cookout (all paid for, ofcourse)
Spang Makandra sold out before the end of the event, which defintely looked promising. We broke up came later, and I was dropped off at the apartment by Vincent when my regular taxi got stuck in traffic for an indeterminable amount of time.
At the apartment I got a rather odd surprise.
The origins of the Cookout were put down in really simple terms, but apparently this benefit fair was (ahem) cooked up by the wives of influential men as a nice counter to the idea that women should be the ones doing the cooking. The cookout is a contest between teams of men running food stalls, where the aim is to be the best at selling food and drink to the attending crowd. This non-profit food fair attracts a large number of people and excellent chefs.
Spang Makandra was competing as well. Sure, winning is always a nice prospect, but Vincent had more ulterior motives in mind. The preparations, manufacturing and selling of their goods was an excellent exercise in teamwork, and it would be a nice way to raise more awareness to this young and promising company.
When I arrived, I had to hand it to them, the whole setup was an enormeous undertaking, and they were taking it all in with glee and enthousiasm I couldn't match for the life of me. I ran into Jeffrey again, who was accompanied with his ladyfriend and Paul.
I was barely there when it hit us -a tropical storm came raging across the bay, visible like a sheet of rain cutting through the water. Straight for us.
Oh boy...
Impromptu relocation of grills, gas tanks, electric devices happened everywhere. When the storm hit the waterfront, it was massive. Rain poured down in torrents, thunder cracked and boomed quite dramatically, the inflatable toy castle upturned and squashed the little booth next to it. Across the street, a tent upturned. "This won't be good for attendance", Vincent quipped.
Despite all that, his primary concern was met -the team took the whole thing in stride, started cheering and singing in Sranantongo. People in the other booths looked bemused and puzzled at this explosion of optimism, but damn me if it wasn't catching. Contestants still tried to rescue their cooking, but with less of a grim determination than before.
The storm raged on, turning most of the place into mud. Jeffrey managed to come out of the ordeal with a completely mud-cacked back, which of course didn't really do wonders for the initially white clothes he wore. In comparison, I got off lucky -I got soaked to the point where a wet t-shirt contest would be doable. It just added to the cheerful hilarity in the Spang Makandra tent.
When the weather finally brightened up, crowds bustled in. Music started blaring, people were loudly advertising their wares and the team got to work. Their secret weapon: Buru Heri Heri (I certainly hope I got that one spelled right, or else I'll bnever hear the end of it). I was confounded by the preparations needed for a complete meal on the menu, so I was pretty much reduced to being the guy to hand others implements, water and other vital things. I really need to look into the cuisine here. A richly filled peanut soup was another high seller, while a squad of trainees was concentrating on bbq'ing an impressive amount of meat. Lou was selling a copious amount of Spang Cocktail, which contained a rather hefty dose of alcohol while tasting pretty innocent. I had plenty of them during the cookout (all paid for, ofcourse)
Spang Makandra sold out before the end of the event, which defintely looked promising. We broke up came later, and I was dropped off at the apartment by Vincent when my regular taxi got stuck in traffic for an indeterminable amount of time.
At the apartment I got a rather odd surprise.
posted by Hung Laxley at
10:31 PM
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