Christmas at sea

Written by: jan oskar hansen

Christmas at Sea. 

Once I was kicked by a mule, as I was remonstrating, 
a dog interfered and bit my ankle. There is something 
deeply embarrassing to lose arguments to animals.
Guayaquil, Colombia, I hadn´t gone ashore for fun but to 
buy food stuff for the crew. Since it was a few days before 
Christmas and even our Moslems crew liked something 
extra. It is difficult to get into the festive mood when it is 
hot and I had been bitten and kicked, Jesus was born in 
a barn which is a good place to be a cold winter night as 
animals exude good warmth. I marvel of the nativities of 
Joseph, a finer man than me; a person unsung through 
times.  Chicken for Christmas, not pork, in every mess 
hall there were a coloured trees, since the Islamists do not 
drink there was peace on earth; I forgave the mule and 
the bloody, yellow monster of a dog. And silently the old 
tramper ploughed the sea on her way to Jamaica, where 
the seaman´s priest would invite us Christians to sing
psalms and hand out little presents of socks and gloves     
knitted by kind ladies back in Norway.