Christmas, Home and Abroad.
A Tale of Two Christmases: Comparing the Holiday Spirit Abroad and at Home
Originally Published, Dec 26, 2022
This article is being written as a consequence of procrastination from learning data structures and algorithms so that I can Leetcode and get a job in tech like all the other kids on my TikTok ‘for you’ page. If all the terminology is not palatable to you, don’t worry, that’s not part of today’s story. Sometimes we procrastinate because the task looks huge to tackle and the metrics for succeeding aren’t significantly clear. Hence, we, or I just sit in front of my computer and think about where I want to go and how hard that journey looks. The writing makes me feel like I’m being productive or it’s just the Christmas hangover.
Anyway, you are here for Christmas. Christmas in Zimbabwe is lit. like the levels are always on cloud ninety-nine. It may be an unpopular opinion now given the huge number of unemployed youths and families not affording to make ends meet but, generally, Christmas in Zimbabwe is lit. I just saw pictures of my little cousins from back home. They were all dressed up and looking great. That was one of the major highlights of Christmas Day even for me. During my young years, which I still believe is still a thing even nowadays, I used to look forward to getting new clothes. I remember my mom used to send home clothes from the US and my joy was uncontainable. It wasn’t much about the quality of the gift or how many gifts I got. I tend to think it was more about the day and getting something on that day. Although I admit, there’s a certain level of status that comes with wearing Nike shoes with all six of the swooshes.
Christmas mornings were for church. Mandatory church unless I wanted to miss dessert when we were having our Christmas lunch. In church, the birth of Jesus was acted out in a mini play by the Sunday School group had they prepared a presentation. My granny would always grab a doll from the house, a small dish, and some dry grass. She would wrap the doll in a blanket and place it inside the dish on top of the dry grass. The now, baby Jesus would be displayed in the church next to the pulpit. Gorgeous, I know right?
After church, we would head home for our Christmas meal. Because all the uncles and my mom in the diaspora would have sent remittances home for getting Christmas goodies, the meal had everything we wished we could have any time during the year. All types of beverages. Salads. Cookies or cake. Baked beans, tomato sauce, and mayonnaise. You can never go wrong with tomato sauce and mayonnaise. Custard and jelly were the icings on the cake always. Every year, for Christmas this combo had to be there. As I grew up, the reverence of some of the food became less pronounced, because I went to boarding school where we would eat all these nice deserts and yoghurts and lettuce more frequently. Some of it was just people trying to live a soft life more often. It’s funny even as I write this to think that all these things at some point, I considered them luxury. What was beautiful about the meal was that everyone was there. And everyone was happy. No matter how hard the year was you knew on Christmas day you were having a great day, guaranteed.
Sometimes, after the meal, I would go and look for my cousin who used to live five minutes away from my house. At his house, his mom would probably give us scones, cake, or sweets then we hustle back to mine. My granny would give us sweets too, and cookies and even more juice. On Christmas, you can eat without being told it’s too much food. It’s Christmas day after all. In our brand-new clothes, we would then go around some of our friends’ houses, collecting more snacks and building up the group. A lowkey trick or treat.
The neighbourhood was always alive on Christmas day. Actually, even days before Christmas, loud music and cars with South African, or other foreign plates were the character and order of the day. On the actual day, it would get worse. There’s music from kombis and the young girls are out to play. Everyone is looking clean like there’s some community interview. An interview would be inaccurate however because the liquor bottles in the air were at an influx today. The old madalas drink traditional wheat-brewed beer. They love it and if they need an excuse to be lost in the intervention of wise waters, Jesus’ birthday is the best one. We the youngsters make for entertainment. And we love the spotlight. Before the sun sets, we dance battle in front of the adults, and they love to see it. If you’re lucky you might leave with a couple of dollars to buy candy. My cousin and I were kings of the dance flow and because everyone is either generous today or trying to show off their end-of-year bonuses, we were always rich on Christmas.
America is different. I love the giving culture. I love the Christmas trees and wrapped presents. But for me, something is always missing. And I don’t think in America, Christmas is boring. I just feel it lacks some enthusiasm. It’s not about the day per se and the associated Christian beliefs that come with it. No. It’s the vibes. It’s even worse for international students or a lot of other people who are far from home. If you can’t bring home to where you are, the general life there is doomed to be unsatisfactory. Or maybe not. That’s just me.
This Christmas I believe home was closer. I was in a room littered with characters from Zimbabwe. From the serenading sounds of Afrobeats being complemented by hardcore Amapiano, the mood was set for life. The atmosphere was punctuated by indigenous languages that were somehow eargasmic. At some point, you just want to hear home speak. You just want the accent not to be a point of interest but rather normal and appreciated. Trust Kenyans to bring the vibes too. Sauti Sol making the Swahili spaz on everyone’s tongue while terribly butchering the lyrics to Susannah. A pap meal with some pork ribs and drumsticks carried the stomachs to the desired dance floor energies. Someone call Granny and tell her I feel like I’m back in the neighbourhood.
Games take me back to Sunday School. We used to play games like rotten egg, or even Bible trivia. I love party games. Young adults love party games too. And however, you pick the teams, try not to have an all-boys team. If they don’t win, they make sure everyone has a hard time winning. If they win, they make sure everyone feels bad about losing, like to really feel bad. It’s not just Charades darling, it’s life and death. Also really pay attention to everyone because some people don’t just understand what fair play is. Wink wink.
Botswana was represented. Lesotho was present too. And so were Tanzania, Nigeria, Kenya, and of course, Zimbabwe. There’s something about effortless connections and genuine fun. See, that fun you have that has time standstill and has everyone wishing for the current status quo to be a frequent happening. I don’t know, maybe I’m just romanticizing what was a minor get-together. I tend to do that. Sometimes even with the ladies, I meet. TMI? Apologies. We were on connections. The juxtaposition here with Christmas from back home is a simple law of economics, scarcity to be exact. The Law of Scarcity simply states: If what we desire “appears” to be in limited supply, the perception of its value increases significantly. Common knowledge right? Well, I guess that’s the point here. Because most of the acts on Christmas while back home were assumed as scarce, they became very valuable to the general family appreciation. Even communities tended to unite on Christmas. They came together in chants and sang along to the local top hits. As was the case with us yesterday. The classics were a highlight. They got everyone to forget who they were. When home is further from where you are and one time you manage to bring it closer, the moments are easily cherished. Such days remain imprinted in memory and time.
Maybe let’s stop here. If you got something from this, well I’m happy for you. If not, it’s because you suffer from too many choices. Consider reading my articles only, once every time I decide to write.
Background music: Kelvin Momo( Amukelani mix)