Christmas in the Village

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. 

This opening paragraph from the novel ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ by Charles Dickens nostalgically takes me down memory lane to the events of my childhood. I was in town the other day and Christmas carols were playing so loudly from every stall announcing it’s that season again when people are supposed to spend and eat like it’s the end of the world. Outdoor Christmas lights in major malls shining so bright forming beautiful patterns at night. You see them from a distance and for a moment you think it’s the stars that have fallen.

I grew up in the 90s in some deep village somewhere in Meru. Christmas season in the village back in the day was different to the one I see in the city in more ways than one. The only thing that remains constant is the whimpering from everyone in January. In the city every single day in December from 1^st to 31^st is an event worth celebrating unlike in the village where we only rested on 25^th and the rest of the days were normal working days.

Parents, especially my mother, looked forward to December holidays so we would help her in weeding, fetching firewood, grazing among other chores. Christmas was to us a one day event that we so badly looked forward to.

A week before Christmas mum would make us collect all the rubbish around the compound, uproot all the unwanted plants and sweep every corner including the foot path that led to our home. Home looked so neat that week. We had one mud house that would be plastered (Kûthinga) with a mixture of cow dung and ashes that very week too. This house looked so good and I don’t have an idea of why it was brought down. I just came back for holidays while in high school and I didn’t find it there. So sad! 

Oh and my sisters would stick old newspapers with all sort of news including obituaries on the walls in our sitting room. I remember my younger brother and I being sent to look for glue – a thick, light brown sap on the outside of injured tree trunks on the trees surrounding our compound that we would mix with some water to make a sticky concoction (Maanû) that my sisters used to stick the newspapers with. 

Success cards would be hung on ropes crisscrossing just below the ceiling with a few balloons of different colours that we struggled so hard to fill with air to complete this magnificent look. By the way what happened of those success cards that had pictures of a boy and a girl on the front page posing in a manner most likely to suggest…? How were those images even related to exam by the way? Were they supposed to announce to the candidates that they were of age and could start dating/get married? But this Kenya of ours thou!

My sister, Jane used to make a Christmas tree from the cutting of a fresh cider tree branch. She would decorate it with some balloons and some shinny ribbons - Those ribbons I see you people put on a graduates’ neck. 

On Christmas Eve we would go for the night mass. If you never made it for this mass you would have missed a lifetime event. Many episodes took place here; Skits were acted, poems recited, songs sung and talks given. Dirty things happened there too, guys came to church smelling of booze, cigarettes and others chewed khat in Gods’ house.  Promiscuity happened right in the church compound. There were people who only stepped in church on 24^th and 31^st nights for their own weird undertakings. 

Anyway these nights were awesome for me and my siblings. We used to enjoy every bit of the night and we would reminisce them till another Christmas time. The songs that one Thomas Kîlûûchû (Mpûmpû) used to sing during those night masses are unforgettable. I miss them and I so wish I would make to attend that mass tonight.

îî Njosebu na Maria îî bobaîlî

Njosebu na Maria îî bobaîlî

Yîî bobaîlî x 2

Mûlaika Ngaburieri nue atûmîrwe

Mbbrruuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrr!!!!!

Mass would end some minutes past midnight and we would head home to sleep and wait for the great day. The day we would rock new shoes and new clothes for the years that we were lucky to have been bought new ones.

Christmas day mornings were different from the rest of the days. I don’t know exactly how and why but I just feel if you slept the whole year and you just woke up on 25^th in the morning you would easily tell it was Christmas day. It smelled different, the sun shone differently, the wind blew gently and all the birds released new melodious singles. 

This day was filled with eating, lots of eating and drinking, and this we did too well. Eating was the real event. Chapati was Christmas and Christmas was chapati, if that thing was not there my fren then there was no Christmas. After eating at home we would now go to our relatives who lived nearby to do the obvious, sample their dish. We would go to about 3 homesteads before finally retiring home farting like tired donkeys with our bellies protruding like a five months old pregnancy.

This day was so short though. It used to end even before it starts. You would go to bed and before you even turn you hear mum waking you up to go open the cows’ shed or go to your neighbours to look for fire (Kwîîra monki) because you don’t have a match box. Life would go back to normal until first January when you again would repeat the events of 25^th after which you would then wait for a whole year before you eat some delicacies again.

Wûi tene!

Christmas Long Ago

By Jo Geis

Frosty days and ice-still nights,
Fir trees trimmed with tiny lights,
Sound of sleigh bells in the snow,
That was Christmas long ago.

Tykes on sleds and shouts of glee,
Icy-window filigree,
Sugarplums and candle glow,
Part of Christmas long ago.

Footsteps stealthy on the stair,
Sweet-voiced carols in the air,
Stocking hanging in a row,
Tell of Christmas long ago.

Starry nights so still and blue,
Good friends calling out to you,
Life, so fact, will always slow…
For dreams of Christmas long ago.