When Christmas hurts: Why some Kenyans avoid home during the festive season
The negative side of Christmas in Kenya can include grief, pressure and trauma.
What you need to know:
- While Christmas is widely celebrated as a time of joy, many Kenyans experience the season as emotionally overwhelming. Grief, unresolved trauma and painful family memories push some to withdraw from home and festive gatherings.
- Mental health experts warn that financial pressure, constant comparison and unrealistic expectations during Christmas can trigger anxiety, depression and avoidance—especially among young people struggling to find their footing.
Christmas is meant to be a season of joy—a time for families to gather, share meals, and celebrate togetherness. But for many Kenyans, December triggers something far more complex: grief, anxiety, and emotional withdrawal.
Dr Linda Dr Nyamute, a consultant psychiatrist at the Jaramogi Oginga Odinga Teaching and Referral Hospital and secretary of the Kenya Psychiatrist Association, says the festive season can be particularly difficult for individuals carrying unprocessed grief or painful family memories.
"Individuals suffering from unprocessed grief due to loss of loved ones may eventually end up with depression, anxiety, and other mental health disorders," she explains. "They may develop avoidance to feel some emotions, including avoiding home or family gatherings."
Domnic Ombok knows this avoidance intimately. Until December 2021, Domnic and his siblings had always looked forward to Christmas. Each year, their family of seven would travel to their home in Kakrao, Migori County, eager to reunite and catch up on the year's happenings. His married sisters would arrive first with their children, followed by Domnic and his brother, then university students, just before Christmas Eve.
The celebrations would begin on the night of December 24 with mass at St Joseph's Catholic Church in Omboo, Migori Town. On Christmas morning, the family would share a sumptuous meal, then head to church. Afterwards, their father, Arfine Ombok, a primary school teacher and passionate environmentalist, would hand each child a eucalyptus seedling to plant. The family home still stands surrounded by trees planted over the years.
Arfine would then slaughter a goat and poultry for Christmas and New Year—a meal shared not just with family, but with neighbours from humble backgrounds who would stay and make merry until evening. "My father was one man who believed in the Christmas spirit of sharing," Domnic recalls. "Even on a normal day, villagers who saw him around would stop by and join him for a meal. He was lively, down to earth, and never held a grudge."
Those gatherings were also when the patriarch would check in on his children. "While at home, he would urge us to remain united, share in our joys and pains. He would use the time to know how each of our years had been while also advising where necessary," Domnic says.
None of them ever wanted to miss it. Domnic remembers one year travelling from Maseno University on Christmas Eve despite the transport surge. The fare from Maseno to Kisumu, normally Sh150, had more than tripled. From Kisumu to Migori, he paid Sh2,000 instead of the usual Sh700.
But he had to be there. In February 2022, Arfine Ombok succumbed to prostate cancer. He was buried the following month. At the graveside, Domnic made a silent vow: he would never return home. "The thought of going home reminds me of my father," he says, his voice breaking. "I have since learnt that the same has been happening to my other siblings. We are yet to heal from his death."
Dr Nyamute explains that this reaction—avoiding places and gatherings associated with a lost loved one—is a common manifestation of unprocessed grief. "During Christmas, they may become depressed or withdrawn. They may portray characteristics such as irritability and being overprotective," she says.
Since his father's burial, Domnic has returned home only once—a brief visit in January this year to collect his daughter, who had joined the family for celebrations. He did not stay.
In December 2022, the first Christmas without the patriarch, the calls that once summoned the family home never came. The household went silent. Only his elder sister and mother were present. The same happened in 2023 and 2024. This year will be no different. "My elder sister and mother have tried to invite us home, but no one heeds their calls," Domnic says. "I miss my old man as much as I miss Christmas. But the celebrations lost meaning the day my father died."
Now, he spends December 25 sleeping or listening to music to pass time. His wife and child are free to travel and celebrate, but he stays behind. "Maybe one day we will heal from the loss of our patriarch and once again experience the spirit of Christmas," he says. "For now, staying away from home is the only option. It makes me forget he is dead."
When pressure replaces celebration
Grief is not the only reason Kenyans avoid home during the festive season. For others, it is the weight of expectation—the relentless pressure to have achieved certain milestones by a certain age.
Dr Nyamute says societal and financial pressure during Christmas can severely impact mental health. Some people find themselves the subject of uncomfortable comparisons—an elder brother measured against a younger sibling who is already married with children, or a struggling relative pressured to contribute money for celebrations they cannot afford.
"We all have different timelines and cannot progress at the same pace," she explains. "Being compared makes one feel inadequate and unwanted. Sometimes we push conversations and make jokes about things without being sensitive or understanding one's background."
Livingstone Wanjala has lived this reality. The firstborn son in a family of seven from Bunyala, Busia County, he swore never to return home after graduating from the Technical University of Mombasa in 2019. His reason: relentless pressure from his father to build a house, despite earning barely enough to sustain himself.
In November this year, he travelled home for the first time in five years. The questions had not changed. "They kept asking when I am building a house," Wanjala says. "They have also been asking when I am planning to bring my spouse home, yet I am not married."
He stayed only a few days and has vowed not to return anytime soon. Had it been his choice, he would have loved to stay longer, join his family for Christmas, and attend the boat racing at the shores of Lake Victoria, as he always did as a boy.
Instead, this Christmas—like those before it—will be spent drinking with friends to forget his sorrows. Rev Benson George Odhiambo of the Maseno South Diocese of the Angican Church of Kenya has observed this pattern among many young people.
"We have young people struggling to make a living, but because they live in the city, there is a perception that they are doing well," he says. "If they fail to have the money to meet expectations, they choose to stay back for their own peace of mind."
Dr Nyamute warns that to escape such discussions, people begin lying, withdrawing, and keeping to themselves. Some turn to drugs. Others enter relationships they are not comfortable with, seeking validation. "Sometimes we might be pushing someone to have children when they are comfortable not having any, or pushing them to get married while they have been trying, yet relationships are just not working for them," she says.
The scars that home reopens
For some, the aversion to home runs even deeper—rooted not in recent loss or present pressure, but in childhood trauma. Dr Nyamute explains that individuals who grew up in broken families may struggle with post-traumatic stress disorder from watching their parents fight. "The individuals may develop avoidance to feel some emotions, including avoiding home or family gatherings," she says.
Christine Atieno, 28, carries such scars. For her, home is not a place of warmth. It is a reminder of the years her father subjected her mother to domestic violence. Her mother eventually died of cancer. Despite the abuse she endured, she had always tried to make Christmas special—buying the children clothes and shoes, cooking meals that made the day feel different.
More than six years after her mother's death, Christine, having just completed Form Four, made a decision—she ran away and never looked back. This Christmas, like every other since, she has no plans to travel home. The memories are too heavy.
The ripple effect of withdrawal
When individuals withdraw from family gatherings, the effects extend beyond themselves. Dr Nyamute notes that families and friends are left guessing—wondering why they are being avoided, why excuses keep coming, why calls go unanswered. "The sudden change of behaviour also mentally affects families and friends of the individuals, especially those who might have uttered the words without ill intentions," she says. "The individuals will keep guessing why they are being avoided. They may also end up withdrawn."
The result is often sibling rivalry and broken relationships. Rev Odhiambo agrees. When individuals exclude themselves from family gatherings, he says, it creates an imbalance. They struggle to be themselves and instead try to become copies of others. "Without social bonds, we are like a loose cannon. We end up being messed up by society around us," he says.
The hidden cost of celebration
Even for those who do travel home, Christmas can exact a toll. Rev Odhiambo describes the season as a time when Christians commemorate the birth of Jesus Christ. But he acknowledges that for many, the day is complicated. Some treat December 25 as any other day. Others spend it regretting that they lack what it takes to celebrate. And many end up financially ruined by January.
"Come January, you wish you were back in Christmas because you find yourself messed up financially because of extravagant expenditure," he says. "At the end of the day, the celebration feels like taking a hard drug. When you sober up, you realise you are still in the same place where you were."
For young people, he warns, the day can be dangerous—a time when some are introduced to drugs, or assaulted, leaving them traumatised.
A call for sensitivity
Dr Nyamute urges families to approach the festive season with greater care. Christmas, she says, should not be a competition over who has more or who is doing better. Families should have honest conversations about each member's financial situation to avoid overburdening those who are struggling. Achievements should be celebrated without comparison.
For those supporting someone in grief, she advises against constant reminders of their lost loved ones. Instead, check in on them. Ask what would make them feel better. Invite them to celebrations without pressure.
"While it is the responsibility of those grieving to heal, we can make them feel better by avoiding constant reminders of their lost loved ones," she says. "One can keep checking up on the grieving persons while inquiring what they can do to make them feel better, including inviting them for Christmas celebrations."
Rev Odhiambo echoes the call for compassion. "I thank God for my mother, Margaret, who keeps telling me: 'Benson, at times you might not necessarily give me anything, but just seeing you is enough for me.' That’s the attitude parents and families should adopt," he says.
"Let us learn to embrace each other during this season of Christmas and celebrate the fact that you are available, you are family. Closeness is what defines our African culture. Jesus is the reason for this season. Do what Jesus would do to the people around you, and it shall be well."
