Merry Christmas y’all!

It is Christmas Day, and for the first time in the 26 years of my existence, I am not spending it in Huntsville, Texas with my family.  This year there was no Christmas Eve dinner at Golden Corral, no candlelight service at Fellowship of Huntsville, and no driving around town looking at Christmas lights.  I had to go without a reading of the Christmas story by my Dad from the Bible, a recitation of “The Night Before Christmas” by my older brother, and the telling of “The Texas Night Before Christmas” by my little sister.  My skin did not feel the touch of a new set of pajamas given by my Mom as the first gift of Christmas, and I was not able to drink Christmas Coke nor savor red and green M&Ms as my siblings and I watched “The Santa Claus”.  This morning I did not awake to a stocking filled with Skittles and Dr. Pepper, I did not unwrap any presents, and I did not get to dine on my Mom’s delicious breakfast quiche. 

No, instead I am in Durban, South Africa, a coastal city with beautiful waters lying on the Indian Ocean.  I have just returned to my hostel, sunburnt after a day of relaxing on a sunny beach, where I read, chatted, and listened to the rhythmic sound of the crashing waves.  Despite such events, which normally should provide unqualified bliss, there was the strongly present emotion that something was amiss.  Even though Texas is not exactly known for its white Christmases and I had quite an enjoyable day seaside, it is still a distinctly odd feeling to be experiencing summer in the middle of summer – to be sweating instead of shivering.  After a lifetime of everything I know about Christmas being associated with winter, my body is telling me that there is something very wrong with this alternate summertime reality.  My mom told me that her brother, who grew up in the US, but has spent the better part of his life in Australia, loves most things about life Down Under yet has never been able to quite adjust himself to seeing people surfing on Christmas day.  Indeed, this hot Christmas is not something I’m sure I, myself, could ever get used to either.

Even more than the switching of seasons, the thing that most bothers me about Christmas in South Africa is that the holiday seems to be a non-event.  Here, in one of the biggest cities in South Africa, there is almost no evidence that today is a celebration.  Aside from a few Santa hats (he’s called Father Christmas here) and a Christmas tree here and there, there is no holiday spirit or regalia.  No wreaths, no lights, no Salvation Army people ringing bells, no holiday music in the stores or on the radios, no nothing.  Just to feel somewhat normal and remind ourselves that today is special, some of the other Peace Corps Volunteers and I last night went to the effort of singing Christmas carols in the lounge of where we are staying.  We invited the employee on duty to join us, which she did, but she, herself, said that she found the idea of caroling somewhat odd since it was something they only saw in movies.  For whatever reason, Christmas just does not appear to be a big deal in any way comparable to what Americans are used to.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am by no means depressed that I am here.  I am loving my time here in South Africa, and especially my current beachside vacation.  Regardless, though, I’m not sure that Christmas can ever really be Christmas without my family and the associated traditions which I hold dear. 

So even though not many people here are saying it, I would like to wish everyone a very merry and blessed Christmas.  For those of you who are lucky enough to be spending it with family, cherish it for those of us who were not quite as fortunate this year.  I, myself, will be having a phone call with my parents and siblings in T-minus 30 minutes while they ARE dining on mom’s delicious breakfast quiche.  Afterwards, I think I will have no other choice than to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” on my friend’s computer.  Once again, merry Christmas y’all – all the way from South Africa.