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New Clothes First, Comfort Later
Christmas begins with clothes, especially for children. New, trendy outfits appear days before the holiday, carefully hidden until the right moment. Sneakers stay boxed, jackets stay folded, dresses stay untouched. On Christmas morning, kids emerge transformed — brighter, louder, confident. The clothes matter because they announce something simple: today is different.
Adults participate too, quietly competitive. Someone always notices who upgraded, who didn’t, who repeated last year’s look. Style becomes social language, even in villages where the dust does not care.
Soda Is the Celebration Drink
There is no mulled wine or hot chocolate ritual. Christmas drinks are cold, fizzy, and unapologetically sweet. Soda is stocked like treasure. Bottles line tables. Children guard theirs closely. Adults pretend they don’t care, then reach for one anyway.
Warm soda, bought late when shops have closed or transport failed, still counts. It is not about temperature. It is about access. If there is soda, Christmas has officially arrived.
Chapati Smoke Marks the Day
Chapati defines the season. Not the rushed weekday version, but the ceremonial kind — thick, oily, layered, endless. Cooking starts early and never seems to finish. The smell spreads across compounds, announcing which homes are doing well this year.
Chapati is not cooked alone. It comes with stew, meat, laughter, arguments, and unsolicited advice. Hands take turns. Oil spills. Children hover. By midday, everyone is full and still eating.
Cars Are Hired, Cities Are Abandoned
Urban areas empty out days before Christmas. Streets quiet. Shops close early. Entire neighborhoods migrate. People hire cars — small, big, borrowed, overworked — just to travel “home.”
The journey is part of the ritual. Cars break down. Roads jam. Passengers argue. Music plays too loudly. Still, no one complains seriously. Being stuck together is proof that Christmas is happening.
By the time the sun sets, villages swell and cities feel oddly abandoned, like stages waiting for actors who have left.
Alcohol Flows, Carefully and Publicly
Drinking is expected, but it is measured by visibility, not volume. Bottles are displayed. Sharing matters more than excess. Someone always drinks too much, and someone else always pretends they didn’t.
The drink is not the point. The gathering is. Refusing entirely raises questions. Participating too enthusiastically raises others. Balance is observed, loosely.
Church Comes and Goes — Backwards
Church attendance is thinner than tradition suggests. People promise to go later, then later becomes evening. Services happen, but not everyone attends. Faith exists, but Christmas pulls attention elsewhere.
Ironically, people appear in church in reverse order — late arrivals, brief appearances, quiet exits. By afternoon, attention shifts away entirely.
Small Centers Wake Up at Night
As villages settle, small trading centers come alive. Music starts. Lights flicker on. People gather not at home, but outside — to be seen, to meet, to confirm who came back this year.
These centers become temporary capitals. News is exchanged. Old friendships restart. New rumors are born. Christmas moves from private compounds into public space.
No Snow, No Silence — Just Movement
An African Christmas is not still. It travels. It wears new clothes. It drinks soda. It cooks until tired. It empties cities and fills villages. It skips church, then debates it later. It ends in noise, not quiet reflection.
Forget snow and silence. This Christmas sweats, eats, drives, argues, laughs — and leaves no doubt that it happened.
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