BECAUSE IT’S CHRISTMAS

Some things will always be the same- as long as there is Christmas. Come December I seem to slowly give way to the spirit of Christmas. It has been that way for the 45 years it has taken to make me. I seem to want the same things for Christmas year-in year-out.

It is not Christmas until I arrive in Rabai. For me the village is wired into the Christmas spirit. Well, not quite- home is where Christmas is. Over the years wherever I have called home is where I have been for Christmas. In my student years in Queensland I found myself in Bundaberg a couple of days to the eve of Christmas. Back then Toowoomba is what I called home because it was my college town. I was not alone in wanting to drive to Toowoomba after working the farms in northern Queensland over summer holidays.

My friends and I could not wait for the final pay check. We drove south just in time for the final day of shopping. We were all foreign students spending our first Christmas Down Under. That the city would shut down until the New Year was something we were not prepared for. We were driving around in our yellow Chevrolet looking for an open liquor or movie store the day after Christmas. We were running dangerously low on both. There was hardly any other traffic. It was the quietest Christmas we African boys had ever seen.

Once a police patrol car followed us to Darling Heights just to make sure we lived where we said. Another time the driver was asked to bring his license to the station. Interestingly, he had the luxury of waiting until after the festive season to take himself in. Back home, an appointment with the police would not wait that long.

There was just one girl among us. It was not only I longing for a hug. I guess she got sick of our asking. For me, Christmas included the aroma of frying mahamri, pilau, roast meat and family. I was to have none that year. In their stead there was beer, bangers and my mates. We played football in the street in between swigs of booze. It was not the best Christmas but we made the best of it. Maso, KK and Joy were family for me.

This year, everything is set. The shopping for my boy is done, I am home already and the menu is already drawn up. There was a disagreement over his choice of pants and shoes but he won when he declared; “It is I to wear- not you”. He insists the pants are a Kanye West favourite. I guess I am getting old- or the elastic band around his ankles is out of place. Everything else is as it should.

The spirit of Christmas is here

I will be hiding a bottle of something to jog the mind for when the kids want Uncle Jossi to crack them up. My favourite music will play and that includes all my late Dad’s favourites. I will be nice to everyone. The money counts but it counts for making those around me feel good. If I leave the house at all before the New Year it will be for that bottle of something- it always runs out quick.

I am not alone in wanting these things. I can see many crossing the village with plastic shopping bags. Many have the smooth sheen of the city. Others clearly want to acquire some of that sheen via the shopping trips. Well, the village wants something of the city but many are escaping the city for the village. How is it where you are? MERRY CHRISTMAS