Surviving Christmas

I like Christmas. I like the sheer madness that seems to overtake everybody at this time of the year. Of course it is supposed to be a religious festival and we keep being reminded not to forget that the celebrations are really in honour of the birth of Jesus Christ.

But just think of the hours you have spent stuck in traffic in Accra and other cities this past week and ask yourself what that had to do with the birth of the baby Jesus.

I heard on the radio a policeman give a spirited defence of traffic jams in Accra during the Christmas season: It is Christmas after all, the officer said, and people who are not normally on the roads are also on the roads, people who normally don’t shop are out shopping; that is why there is traffic and the women in the markets are happy because people are buying their goods.

In other words, you must be a spoilsport to be complaining about the traffic jams; it is Christmas and the city centre is supposed to be clogged.

Or take the business of buying and giving of presents. There is a veritable frenzy that seizes everybody in the rush to get presents for loved ones and not so loved ones who must be pleased. Often it is simply a matter of having to get a present; any present, and so you end up giving and receiving a lot of junk, for as long as it is wrapped up beautifully.

Christmas cards seem to have disappeared with the advent of the internet and we shall all be sending and receiving virtual cards that will clog up the memory of our mobile phones. I must say I rather like Christmas cards and the virtual ones don’t really do anything for me.

In much the same way as virtual champagne bottles with bow ties and virtual champagne flutes irritate me no end. What am I supposed to do with them, I always wonder. I cannot see the alcohol content of virtual champagne and no matter however beautifully presented, you can’t chill it and sip it. I prefer the real thing.

Shopping for clothes probably constitutes the greater part of the shopping expedition at Christmas and children are at the heart of most of it. The poorest parent feels obliged to get a new outfit for his child at Christmas and the Chinese factories churn them out these days to suit every pocket.

What I like best about Christmas is the food. It is the time of year that indulgence is allowed. Those who brought Christmas to us in these lands have special foods that go with the Christmas festival. Just as you wouldn’t dream of celebrating Homowo without Kpokpoi and palm soup of fish and meats, they must have roast turkey with accompanying accoutrements. They have mince pies and puddings and fruit cakes and everybody is encouraged to overeat.

I have tried to appreciate turkey and I have failed. Roasted, fried, smoked, I have tried turkey in all the various guises and it hasn’t worked for me; I have even tried it with light soup and it still doesn’t do it for me. I was resigned to accept that I simply did not have the taste buds for it when a friend of mine offered a theory which made a lot of sense to me: If turkey was indeed such a great tasting meat, we would be eating it daily or weekly or at the very least, monthly.

The turkey myth survives simply because everybody pretends to love it and this provides an excuse to charge exorbitant prices for it. (Feel free to apply the Christmas turkey theory to other festival foods that you do not particularly like; for example, if kpokpoi (Ghanaian Traditional food) was such a great meal, why is it restricted to only Homowo festival time…. I don’t really intend to start a row over festival foods.) I am happy to have fufu and goat light soup on Christmas day and that is the height of my celebrations.

But in the midst of the celebrations, spare a thought for the tailors and dressmakers who have been reduced to total wrecks so the rest of us can have new outfits for all the various events that come with the Christmas season. I know some dressmakers who have hardly had a proper night’s sleep in the past three months as they try to make all the clothes their customers want.

While you are sparing a thought for overworked tailors, it would be a good idea to spread the goodwill to the many people who have to be at work and cannot take the short break most people are taking.

The newspapers often take a short and well-deserved break.But the hospitals have to be kept open; babies will be born, people will die and ill health tends not to recognise Christmas; and that means doctors and nurses have to go to work. Outside hospitals and clinics, Carers generally have to be at work.

The police and security people have to be at work. Once upon a time this time of year was a favourite for coup makers, but mercifully we have outgrown that now. And if you are going out for a meal during the festivities, then do please spare a thought for the waiters, the chefs and the restaurant staff in general; they can’t take a short break from work like the rest of the country.

I am determined to share seasonal goodwill and I will not get angry that my dressmaker can’t make me a new dress because of dumsor; I shall wear my trusted pair of jeans and t-shirt, they are very comfortable, they really are. I shall happily cook chicken, which is being sold at the price turkey was being sold last year. It is not because turkey has become too expensive, I like chicken.

I won’t go to church because I want to give my Pastor a short break just as my garage is also taking a short break. I shall gladly accept virtual Christmas presents and cards and flowers on WhatsApp. I honestly don’t mind. It is the season of good will; we should all spread it around.