In response to Jina’s inquiry about how one’s Christmas on the continent was spent, I thought I’d share a few words.
This year, I spent my first Christmas in Kikuube, Uganda. Kikuube is a small village located about 20 miles from Masindi, the closest town, and about five hours from the capital city, Kampala. My partner’s family has small house just outside the village surrounded by fields of matoke, potatoes, maize and groundnuts. About 1/3 of the family comes home from Christmas with about seven to fifteen children, parents and visitors hanging out at the compound.
The days leading up to Christmas were spent drinking countless cups of lemongrass tea and eating many, many meals of papaya, boiled ground nuts, posho, matoke, irish potatoes and steamed cabbage – all freshly picked from the garden. The days turned around a strict routine beginning with a long run past sugar cane fields and breathtaking views of blue-green mountains, followed by breakfast, lunch and dinner separated only by long naps in the shade and the occasional walk into the village center or to the garden to harvest groundnuts. Dinner was cooked over a bonfire in the kitchen/fire pit with the family gathering to talk, tell stories and drink tea.
Christmas Day itself had the same feeling of ‘busyness’ that I recognize from home. There is a massive meal to prepare: boiled meats, matoke, rice, millet, stewed vegetables. The girls and women are working over the fire in the kitchen as the sun rises, sweeping and tidying the house. The boys wash dishes and run errands. At around 11 am, everyone puts on their best clothing and heads to the church. A one room building made from mud and bricks at the edge of a large, overgrown field. The church houses 30-40 people. Sunday school children are sitting on a mat in their best suits and frilliest dresses. The women are wearing traditional clothing – all kinds of shiny silk and organza – or elaborate dresses with lace and flower prints and the men in smart shirts and suits. Toddlers wearing three piece suits drag their pant legs and sleeves over the red dirt.
The church service starts with an hour of singing, dancing, clapping and beating on drums. Individuals then stand up and say a few words about their health, their wishes for the coming year, and so on. Visitors from other churches or from outside the community introduce themselves. This is followed by a two-hour long sermon. The sermon was done in English (for our benefit, which was beyond considerate) with seamless translation into the local dialect. After more dancing and singing, donations are made and the service ends. People head to their respective homes and we move back to the house, gather on mats placed in the shade of trees and serve ourselves from massive pots of matoke, meats, rice.
After a long nap, we head to the village center. The whole village is out in their best dress and sprawled on chairs, mats, and benches. Children come by with their new presents: shiny bikes tangled with streamers and gift-wrapping. Others sip on syrupy sweet Mirindas and Pepsis. A woman with a baby tied to her back dances with a grandmother. The village drunk stumbles by. I’m sat on a bench and plied with gifts of Mirinda, groundnuts and sim-sim balls. The Christmas festivities continue long after sundown with a big dance behind one of the village shops. Massive boom boxes powered by a mix of generator and solar-power. When I run by in the morning around 6:30 am, the music has just ended and people are still hanging around drinking beers or slowly making their way home.
Overall, Christmas is a day of rest, reunion, and leisure for most – from rural farmers, to small shop owners, to the wealthy. From one continent to another, whether under sun or snow, that atmosphere of temporary rest after a long year remains unchanged.
