Like every year, Christmas in my household is anti-climatic. After weeks of fussing and fawning, it’s over within a matter of moments.
I accompanied my mum to do the ‘Christmas food run’ at 1am the night before and witnessed grown men and women piling pints upon pints of milk and stacking loaves of bread into their trolleys as if the approaching seasonal period was signalling an Armageddon.
For the first time in my adult life, I was unemployed over the festive season and it really dented my ego. Fortunately, I bought some gifts for my family whilst I was in my PTJ, but the guilt over not being able to lavish them with more gifts was a disappointment.
With one parent always working on Christmas Day, growing up, it was never a big deal; get up, eat, TV, then save the best for Boxing Day, but this year, we were all at home, together.
It’s true that when you get older, you realise that Christmas is all about the kids; the gross commercialism has stripped the season of its true meaning.
And after being the materialised, westernised, African offspring for so long, I finally got it.
I may not have a job or bags of disposable income at the moment; and I certainly wasn’t able to fulfil the long tradition of getting shit-faced on Christmas Eve, downing obscene amounts of Red Stripe whilst catching up with friends from school; or buying loads of Christmas presents for myself - but having all of us, under one roof, at the same time, enjoying a sumptuous meal and great conversation, made me realise just how lucky I am.
♫ Nathan Haines – ‘Wonderful Thing’