Song given was ‘Feed the World (Do they know it’s christmas), by Band Aid
Lyrics (Although the song was for a good cause, reading the words just made me think how shallow some people can be. I actually wrote this before Christmas- As you can imagine- But here it is).
Do They Know It’s CHRISTmas?
Feet soaked deeply into the sand, it’s that time of the morning where the air is cool, breathing in deeply before the cheerful chaos of Christmas begins. As usual the aunties will be cooking, grandma releases her famous recipes, and we will take it in turns to contribute to the buffet we will host later on in the evening.
What a contrast to the hard cold concrete floors of the western city, my cousin took me to all these places, buildings so tall I could break my neck, the air so cold, so crisp it’s as if it’s eating my skin if I stand still for too long. Freedom restricted from the chunky black boots I was bought by an auntie. Although snow is beautiful, my cousin said they had never have a white Christmas, apparently it’s something they have all been waiting for, this puzzled me, all their Christmas cards had scenery with snow. I was lucky to have witnessed this ‘white Christmas’, snow was beautiful, it’s a shame only the children were allowed to enjoy it the adults were inside refusing to budge, holding a grudge like the weather owned them something.
Despite the heat we cook, we dance, we welcome our neighbours, even the unexpected visitors, they are even more welcome. We share food, drink, stories, laughs. Some bring presents, mostly for the children. We remember the king who was born on this day, as we sing songs, we thank God for our lives, for another good year to come. Many of us have small businesses, selling water, fruits and sometimes meat. Many of us have wishes, some for marriage, others for children, others to reunite with relatives abroad. We pray for many more to come as the year comes to an end. Smiles fill the room. Grateful to be standing, grateful for the company, although sorry for those who have no choice but to spend Christmas alone, wishing they could take some of the extra food with them.
I wonder why my cousin is hosting, but does not look happy. The chicken over cooked, the potatoes didn’t have enough garlic, the cutlery not polished enough, what was wrong with plastic, even she exclaimed how cheap it was to buy. Her china wasn’t fine enough, she had to beat her sisters do last year. It looks like a festival of competition here, presents, stress over who can get who the best, stress over who can hold the best Christmas dinner, who can be the best decorated house in the neighbourhood. Competition with the self and those around. Yes they give gifts, for the wrong reasons. They sit around a carefully carved wooden table, as it’s the only day they can in the whole year, my cousin says. They laugh, they joke, but in their eyes there is judgement, tiredness, it’s as if they were dragged into the occasion. What are they celebrating in their minds? I wonder.
Many of them laugh at the story of baby Jesus. A myth, a conspiracy, a tale to make the children feel safe, are just some of the answers I’v come across. Blasphemy is what I call it. Happy CHRISTmas, I smile, they say it back, merry crissmass. Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?
Story Mode by Piarvé Wetshi is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.