Longing of a Christmas gone by

Christmas

Christmas is the day that Jesus Christ was born more than 2,000 years ago, a day in which all Christians rejoice. However, traditions associated with the day differ widely.

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The story of Christmas is still as fresh as it was first told in the Scriptures, and it is one that nearly all Christian denominations agree on.

It is the day that Jesus Christ was born more than 2,000 years ago, a day in which all Christians rejoice because it marked the beginning of their journey to eventual redemption from sin.

However, traditions associated with Christmas differ widely. There are those who associate it with whiteness to denote purity which is supposed to be as white as snow, and with Father Christmas and his massive flowing white beard.

This White Christmas myth was actually Eurocentric in origin though it later spread to other parts of the world. One can imagine the troubles the white missionaries went through trying to convince Africans of the relevance of such myths, people who had never seen snow in their lives.

It is probably why the whole rigmarole never really caught on in the continent until recently when major retailers started using the concept to attract buyers.

The whole idea of a red-robed white-bearded clown standing at the entrance to a super-market ringing a bell and going haw..haw..haw! sounds ridiculous, but let’s give the merchandisers a break. After all, aren’t we Africans always craving for anything imported as a symbol of sophistication? Why not copy the traditions of foreigners then, however ludicrous they may be?

All the same, the birth of Jesus Christ has always had a very special meaning for Christians. And until fairly recently, there were traditions and rituals that meant a great deal to many, some of them universal, others quite localised.

Going down memory lane on some issues is a rather pleasant indulgence, especially if it reflects the age of innocence as compared to modern days when everything seems to be quite convoluted and commercialism has replaced the spirit of love and generosity.

My happiest childhood memories always had something to do with Christmas festivities. During that whole week, all the troubles that made life less than ideal— trudging to school shoeless and often without lunch, the evening chores that included feeding, watering and milking the cows, and then the mandatory home-work using crude paraffin-and-wick contraptions for light—all these were forgotten when the festive season came around.

Then we children would wait eagerly for Christmas eve when we would sing carols, moving in groups from one homestead to another seeking offering which would be handed over to the church the following day. Christmas eve was a very important occasion for the young who were just excited to be out-doors at night with their parents’ tacit permission, and even more so for the teenagers who had other ideas about what the night might bring in terms of the affairs of the heart.

Contrary to what some parents may have feared when they released their daughters for Murekio (the Christmas carol-fest), very little of a sexual nature went on. However, the young lovers did make arrangements for future covert liaisons. Today, only the boldest souls would try such night vigils: rampant insecurity has taken care of such daredevilry.

Anyway, we would sing merrily door to door: “When shepherds watched their flock by night/All seated on the ground/ The Angel of the Lord came down/And glory shone around”.

Then came the morning itself and another tradition took root. Even those who normally did not go to church made sure they did so on Christmas Day for two reasons.

First, the well-off parents bought new clothes for their children who would want to show them off to their friends. The girls would be especially giddy that day. After all, the female of the species has always been more fashion-conscious than her male counterpart. Those who did not get new clothes moped all day and wouldn’t be consoled.

Secondly, there was a chance that children of the poor would be invited for lunch by their better-off colleagues should there be a goat slaughtered for the occasion. Any kind of meat then, as now, was a rarity, but woe betide any brat who accepted that invitation and the parents got to know of it; there would be tears of pain instead of joy in that compound that night.

As a result, up to this day, I am always reluctant to accept Christmas Day invitations unless they are from very close relatives. Some lessons learnt in childhood tend to stick fast in the mind.

In many homesteads, there would be a cock reserved for the Christmas meal, and a packet of rice as well. Even more important, there would be a packet of wheat-flour and baking powder for making huge chapatis since Christmas without those delicacies was unthinkable.

These commodities were too expensive for many but any home without them was considered destitute indeed. One hankers for these simple pleasures of the past but of course it would be futile to wish them back. The world has moved on and we are now into Christmas trees, obligatory presents, and all that junk.

Mr Ngwiri is a consultant editor; [email protected]