The term, "To run a boat," originated in the Caribbean. A group of boys or grown men would trump up whatever they had, little flour, bully beef, corn, cassava for bammy, salt pork, sugar, lime and water. Each person would bring one item and the firewood or stove would be lit. The resulting cornucopia would be most pleasing and satisfying, both to the palate and the gullet. The success would be measured by the hearty belches and the question, "So when we going to run the next boat?" Very much like the camel and its' hump. "Lord, Miss Gwen, de baby need to fatten up; mek sure him eat four bowl of porridge every day, plus two quart of milk, plus four boil eggs. Remember, a fat baby is a healthy baby." No function succeeds without plenty food, and in fact the measure of its status and success is the abundance of food that is served. Not even the dearly departed is spared. Nine days after a person dies, a wake or "nine night" is held. Just another excuse to wolf down the family's food. Other cultures burry the corpse within 24 hours, but not us, who choose to keep it until enough food can be bought to feed the ravaging hordes that are expecting to descend on the premises.
