When Christmas memories collide with adult reality

Last week, I listened to a number of my colleagues plan Christmas activities for their families. The plans were anchored on their children—replacing pillowcases in the living room with Christmas-themed ones; taking the children to the most elaborately decorated mall in the city at night, buying new clothes and shopping for Christmas pajamas and decor. I had no plans because I knew I would be working during the Christmas week.

I briefly toyed with the idea of decorating my house to ‘bring in the Christmas mood’. However, I dismissed that idea within minutes because I remembered that it would still be me to bring down the decor after New Year and I honestly was not enthusiastic about the idea of willingly increasing my work. I decided I would watch Christmas movies during my free time and that would be enough to bring in the right mood—and I am happy to report that it worked! Hit me up if you’d like some Christmas movie recommendations.

Read: Be afraid when Kenyans miss Xmas

My favourite Christmas memories included counting down days and finally hours, to Christmas morning. Christmas eve was probably the longest day in my childhood because I simply could not wait to dispense with it and usher in the big day. Christmas was for new clothes and sometimes shows. The dress was usually the latest children’s fashion at the time. 

A white and green lace dress with glitters complete with a ‘handbag’; sometimes it was an orange, pleated dress that came with a matching coat; or a plain white dress that worked too hard to mimic a bride’s gown… Christmas mornings were exciting. I do not quite remember what I ate for breakfast because there were lots of options. But I definitely ate maandazi, ground nuts and biscuits with a cup of tea. My parents always made the day special for my two sisters and I.

Read: The call of home: Why we come back every Christmas

The next stop after breakfast was church – to show off the dress more than to attend Sunday school, if I am being honest. But there were also plays being staged by teenagers; reenacting the birth of Christ, some dances and recitation of memory verses. I have never been much of an actor so my star mostly shone when it was time to recite memory verses. 

After those sessions, we (children) were allowed to go out and play. By this time, we would have forgotten about the cute dresses and white pumps and socks. We would play in the dust until it was either time to go home for lunch or eat the ubiquitous mbuzi choma the church always provided. Those were the days… This Christmas, what I miss most is the excitement—the simple joys, the new clothes, laughing with family and making memories.

I did not travel to be with friends and family this Christmas because I was scheduled to work during the Christmas week. Dashing upcountry at the 11th hour was an option, but I had neither the will nor the strength to battle with the mother of all traffic jams in this country, in an attempt to get to Western for Christmas at that last minute. On days like these, I really admire people whose rural home is one hour away from Nairobi. Like the shop attendant on my estate, whose shop I frequent.

Read: Why we are skipping upcountry travels and family gatherings this Christmas

“I will go home on the morning of Christmas,” he told me yesterday when I teased him about spending Christmas in Nairobi.

He could hardly control his shock when I told him I couldn’t travel on Christmas morning and still hope to make it on time because at the very least, I would take about eight hours on the road to get to my countryside. “Eight hours on the road and you will still be in Kenya?” he asked, and we both laughed.

As soon as I have enough experience, I will write a survival guide for people who work over Christmas. In the meantime, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

The writer is the Research & Impact Editor, NMG ([email protected]).