Merri Krismasi from Tanzania

Steven invited us for both lunch and dinner in one day. We’d had a huge breakfast that morning and weren’t prepared for the lunch feast that awaited us. After sodas, we were served rice (wali), chapatti, beans (maharagwe), local spinach (mchicha), small fried fish (samaki), fish coconut curry, mango juice (juisi ya maembe) and fresh bananas (ndizi) for dessert. We were ridiculously full – “Tumeshiba sana!” we said, as he encouraged us to “Please, add more!” As we sat in Steven’s living room, clutching our distended bellies, he then asked if we’d come back for dinner in just a few hours when he got back from tutoring his students. Without any other plans or any real reason to decline, we accepted. First we went back to our hotel to digest, then tried to walk around town as much as possible to burn off some of the food we’d already eaten and hopefully aid in some much-needed digestion. Dinner came all too quickly, and before we knew it we were back in Steven’s living room being served much of the same from lunch, plus fries (chipsi), fresh pineapple (nanasi) and the best mangoes (maembe) I’ve ever eaten. I don’t know how I managed to cram all that food into my system, but with Steven’s constant, “please, don’t feel shy, eat more” and “Add more,” I didn’t feel I had much choice.

We’ve had several of these meals now at Steven’s home, and I keep telling him that at this rate, I’ll be so fat when I get home. He laughs and says that’s a good thing. I’m certain our cultures value different body types.

On one of such occasions at Steven’s house, when we weren’t too distracted by the outdated music video dvd’s he constantly plays in the background (Celine Dion, Michael Jackson, Sean Paul, 50 Cent, Spice Girls...) we started discussing the different ways that we celebrate Christmas. Steven said his plans for Christmas day involve spending his time with his family, going for a walk around town to greet his neighbours and buying some small treats for his little ones to eat. There may have been mention of a church service, but he said that they don’t decorate or buy gifts, they don’t have a tree or a big extended family gathering to stress over and “Father Christmas” does not pay a visit. “We just spend time with our family, that’s all,” he said.

So Danielle and I tried to explain how Christmas works in Canada:

So on Christmas morning, families exchange gifts and open presents supposedly from Santa.

“What is this Santa?” Steven asks.

Well, he’s this old man with a white beard, he’s very fat and he wears a red and white suit and hat to keep him warm. He brings gifts to all the kids around the world (but apparently not the ones in Africa!) and leaves them under people’s Christmas trees.

 “Why is there a tree in the house? Where do the trees come from?”

We try to explain that people cut them down so you can buy them from the store (“the Market?!” – no not really, we don’t have markets here in Tanzania), or you can go to a farm to cut them down yourself, or some people have fake plastic ones.

He looks puzzled.

We continue to explain that these trees are decorated with lights, crafts, glass balls and pretty little things called ornaments.

He smirks at us with an “okay, if you say so...” kind of look.

 I try to get back to the Santa story and explain that while the children are sleeping on Christmas eve, Santa comes down the chimney, through the fireplace (two more things I try to explain) and puts the gifts under the tree. Danielle adds in how the Children leave milk and cookies (“cookies?” – Sorry, ‘Biscuti’) for Santa to eat, and sometimes carrots for the reindeer.

Which brings us to the next question:  “What is reindeer?”

Well, it’s an animal kind of like an impala, but bigger and with different shaped antlers. They live in Canada.

“Why is there a reindeer?” Danielle and I look at each other and realize we’ve left out much of the background story... so we backtrack and try this again:

So Santa lives at the North Pole and has a big secret workshop where he makes all the toys for all the children in the world.

Where is the North Pole?

In the Arctic, way up north in Canada, in a secret spot. That’s where all the elves make the toys for the kids.

Elves?

Very small, magical little people with pointy ears.

Steven laughs at us, “So these small magic people make the ‘jifties’?” Steven’s pronunciation of “gifts” gets me every time. We’re struggling, but we try to continue...

They make all the toys all year long, and then on Christmas eve, Santa takes the gifts to the children while they are sleeping in bed. Parents tell their children to be good all year so that Santa will bring them nice gifts on Christmas.

How does one man carry so many jifties from this place to all the babies?

WELL, he has a big sleigh he uses to transport them all.

What is Sleigh?

Danielle and I look at each other and try to think of what we can compare it to. The closest thing here would be these carts that people walk around towing by hand (or occasionally, behind donkeys) to move large items. “It’s like a cart, but with no wheels. Instead it has special things on the bottom so it can move on the snow... but actually, Santa’s sled doesn’t really move on the snow, the reindeer (remember the things like Impala?) pull it, but they are magic so they just fly in the sky”

Steven hasn’t stopped laughing at us.

Danielle and I exchange glances and realize how insane we sound. “What the hell kind of holiday is this anyways?” she remarks. “What have we done to it?” I reply. I’ve never really thought about it. What does all of this fat man in a red suit, dead tree, jifties stuff have to do with anything?

“Why the parents do they make these lies for the babies like this? Ah, it is not good, I think.”

And he’s right. I think Steven’s idea of going home to be with your family is much better than making up stories for your kids and waiting for a magical old fat man in a big red suit to come leave you a bunch of stuff under a dead tree. In short, it seems we’ve turned Christmas into quite the ridiculous consumer-driven holiday back home.

So, here’s hoping that you find the time to spend one day with your family, enjoying each other’s company and not getting too caught up in how your dead tree looks, what kind of ‘jifties’ some fat imaginary man will leave for your loved ones or all of the other details we’ve invented around Christmas. Danielle, Saumu and I will be sitting on a white-sand beach in Zanzibar swapping some small token ‘jifties’ under (living) palm trees, swimming in the Indian ocean, enjoying each other’s company and hopefully not feeling too homesick for all those crazy traditions we simply can’t relate to from here.

Merry Christmas!