Ngina Otiende writes fondly of her home, Kenya, East Africa, a place of “warmth, deep family and relational roots. Where I don’t need a gift to know [I] am loved.…”
This year Ngina spent her first Christmas in the U.S. and in a recent blog post she shares memories of childhood Christmases in Africa. I found them endearing, even calming, because of the ways I experienced Christmas in Kenya—they were different from those I experienced at home in the U.S.
Reading Ngina’s post enabled me to step back onto Kenyan soil for a couple of minutes.
She writes of Christmases when her brother, on leave from the army, returned home with “incredibly exotic treats” to eat, “the most delicious and rare meals,” and the family enjoyed nyama choma, big barbecues.
On those Christmases, her mother did not monitor the children’s portions—she didn’t need to because she knew everyone would have enough to eat. Ngina writes that another of her brothers didn’t pester everyone to share their food with him because, on those rare occasions, he got his fill. “O the bliss,” she says.
She writes of doing farm work, gathering firewood, tending cattle, sheep, and goats—but not on Christmas.
“All animals were in their pens on Christmas, no farm work a few days before and after Christmas. We loved Jesus for being born on the day, for giving us a break from all the work.
“Everyone went to church.… And I mean everyone. Even the heathens (those who did not attend the rest of the year).… It was about the birth of Jesus.…
“We did not know that we could send letters to Santa Claus. To us, Santa was just a picture on a coloured gift wrapper [or] decorations for the Christmas tree. We did not even think twice about his existence (he did not exist). If we got gifts, we knew where they came from … [our] parents.
“We did not have a gift-list to present to our parents.… Our parents decided what they would get us. And if they did, it was mostly functional—dresses, trousers and items for the house.… Gifts were not a guarantee. We did not fuss about it, [we] were happy about them and just enjoyed the day.”
Ngina continues, “Most city folk traveled back to the countryside to be with family during this season.… [a] time to meet and see new neighbors, cousins.… People hang out along the roads talking, dropped in each other’s houses, celebrated late into the night. The air was just different during Christmas. Even the cattle rustlers tried to stay away then.”
Ngina’s memories bless—and teach, and remind—this Christmas.
They remind me that in Kenya, minimal commercialism felt refreshing. Modest decorations seemed oh-so-right. I did not miss frantic shopping or pressing crowds that characterized American Christmases. In Kenya, I could focus on the real meaning of Christmas.
Thanks, Ngina. And thanks, Kenya—I learned so much from you! Thank you for teaching me that I don't need a gift to know I'm loved.
I enjoyed reading Ngina’s insights,
as a newly arrived Kenyan,
about American culture.
I hope you’ll take a couple of minutes to read her blog post,
I found it very interesting.
I enjoyed this post. In travelling to Kenya I have learned to appreciate more simplicity, to be even more thankful for what I have and to get away from the commercialization of Christmas that has overtaken North America. It is so nice. I will check out Ngina's blog. I'm sure she has a lot of interesting things to observe in North America.
ReplyDeleteHi, Joyful, I knew when I posted this that you would know, from experience, what I was talking about. :)
ReplyDeleteI hope you are doing well and feeling better, Joyful. God bless you in 2012!
Linda