Being away from family on Christmas was going to be a first for my coworker James and I, so we decided to do something to take our minds off it. Options included stuffing our faces with all the packaged American food we could find, or spending it with some other family who might be celebrating.
Christians in India can be easy to spot. First, they have "good christian names", such as biblical characters or sometimes even outrageous ones like "Immaculate". Second, they tend to have better-than-average English skills, and third, they are very vocal in using these skills when meeting Americans. Solomon is a guard in our hostel building, and meets all of these criteria. So, after a few of his initiated lobby-conversations, we received a Christmas invite.
Our initial commitment was attending a Christmas program and having dinner with his family on the evening of the 24th.
We met him at the Lingampally bus station and, as we feared, he was on a two-wheeler. It turned out that the Christmas program was rescheduled to the night earlier, so we set off for his house: 3 men on a two-seater bike.
We entered into a small sitting room cum kitchen and were offered some spiced beef. This was followed by more meat, rice, chapati, and beer. It confused us, because it seemed unlikely this was just the appetizer. Apparently "dinner with family" meant "serve you and watch you eat." We had met his two daughters (and as is customary, told which courses they'd completed), but they and his wife retreated to the back room. While this reduced the chance of awkward marriage discussion, it robbed us of the real reason we agreed to come: to spend Christmas with a family.
Near the end of the meal, Solomon asked if we'd come again the next day. Technically our only plan was "something involving oreos," so we agreed on the condition that tomorrow the whole family would eat together.
Christmas morning we awoke late and headed off to meet Solomon and his family at their church. Turns out, a two-hour church service in a language you don't know can be pretty awful. But, it eventually came to an end, and we found ourselves back in the cement-block house. After short Christmas greetings, "Uncle Nathan and Uncle James" were sat and fed in private. Our protests were futile, or more likely misunderstood. Plus, Solomon seemed to have big plans on his mind:
"Would you like some scotch?"
"Um, okay, sure.."
"Okay. My son will get some."
(wait, from the store? you offered it without having it?)
He poured three drinks and more spiced meats were brought (this time goat and chicken). Frustrated that this was going to be a repeat of Christmas Eve, James & I sipped slowly as we waited for an opportunity to excuse ourselves. Solomon was less reserved.
Now, I don't mean to portray him as a drunk, because he wasn't. After one glass, he began to be very vocally self-conscious about it, and stated probably 5 times that he doesn't so this often. This was verified, as the effects could be seen quickly. He was freely speaking on anything and everything while James and I sat silently uncomfortable. First, it was how he was going to become a preacher, then how his father was a big drinker, then how I was too skinny (and subsequently force-fed the chicken heart), until it reached the breaking point where he described how many times per week his wife will "have him". James and I choked down the rest of our biryani and told Solomon we were calling a cab.
"So, you'll stay two more hours, then?"
"No,"
"One more hour, then go to my sister's house?"
"No..."
About an hour later (and after meeting his sister), we made it back to campus and forced down some candy bars as we watched Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer and The Year Without a Santa Claus.
In the end, it wasn't really Christmas, but an unforgettable day nonetheless.
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