"Christmas is most truly Christmas when we celebrate it by giving the light of love to those who need it most."- Ruth Carter Stapleton
How is Christmas like in predominantly Muslim culture? I keep wondering how Christmas will turn out at UUM. Remember this is the university in a green forest. Literally. The nearest town, Changlun, is modest and doesn't have much to offer for those seeking extraordinary excitement: many shops, a mall, some eateries, inns/hotels, a market, residential areas, a few churches, mosques, etc. Remember that Kedah is a passionately Muslim province with clubs and the sale of alcohol almost non-existent. I did mention before that club adherents travel several miles to Penang and Alor Setah to gratify their nocturnal desires.
Besides taking in the sounds of rushing water from the rivers, monkey activities, the sight of monitors strolling around campus, and the fresh smell of vegetation, there is pretty much nothing else to do around here. But Christmas is a special season for the Christian faithful. I wonder how it will play out in our beautiful forest. I have ever spent several Christmas seasons in the Middle East, and although conditions were more rigid, somehow, we always managed to create an event around it. You know, church, dish party, games, and so on.
Understand that Christmas back in Africa is a different ball game. You would think Jesus had his origins there. Maybe I have grown too old, or life has changed drastically. While growing up, Christmas was a colossal deal. We all got new frocks or attire to be worn on Christmas Day (the same dress but different colors for the girl child). My dad ensured we traveled 865km annually from Mombasa to our village for the festivities. His workplace afforded him complimentary first-class tickets, which ensured we traveled in comfort by railway for two days. In the eyes of a child, this was pure fun.
And Christmas in the village never disappointed. We would disappear into the woods to explore new ground. Here was a totally different ecology from the oven that Mombasa was/is. Everyone seemed to mind everyone’s business. Everyone greeted everyone else. Oh, roasted corn was a show stopper. And the chicken? How they suffered during Christmas!
Of course, there was always a dance on Christmas and New Year's eve. Naturally, I was forbidden from attending village dances by virtue of age. But are rules not written to be broken? Somehow, we (my agemates and I) would find ourselves giggling from the windows of the dancing hall, amused by the furiously wiggly bodies on the dance floor. We dared not show our faces or be found on the dance floor. Come to think of it; the whole set-up was hilarious. Benches were arranged so that the girls faced the boys. A lad rose, crossed the floor, and bowed at the lass he wished to dance with. Since we were not dancing, we would eventually get tired and make our way back to bed. Let me not even start on Christmas in Kenya’s urban centers.
Many a time have I wondered whether we have not totally misunderstood the spirit of Christmas. For years, Christmas has been associated with partying-drinking and eating. And not just drinking fizzy drinks and water. You will meet someone on the morning of Christmas singing their own carols as they stagger home, sometimes falling and picking themselves up; or sometimes falling and converting the trench/ditch into a warm, cozy bed. The enormous amounts of food consumed during the festive season are to behold. We all know how it ends in January when bills grimly stare at yesterday’s revellers.
Over the years, I have learned that Christmas is more about giving than receiving or gratifying oneself. That's why my Christmas Day is reserved for a prison visit where a few of us gather and share whatever little we have with the convicts.
Now here I am at UUM. It turns out I need not have worried too much. Before Christmas, my church organizes how we will spend the day. We gather at the Cultural Center and begin practising the songs we will present on Christmas Day. Of course, we attract attention- who wouldn’t stop to listen to beautiful harmonized melodies on ‘Feliz Navidad,’ ‘Oh Holy Night,’ ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing,’ etc. On Christmas Day, we arise early as we have to catch organized transport to our mother church in Alor Setah. We arrive, take pictures, settle down for service, and simply enjoy the day. We do our presentations and later share in the delicious food lovingly prepared for us. Later on, we walk into one of the malls and continue indulging in the festivities until we get back to campus at night. Well, on Boxing Day, we are back at the library. Lol.
But there is one lesson I learn, and this is huge. My neighbor, a Muslim from Malaysia, had knocked on my door in the morning before we left for Alor Setah. She had woken up earlier to prepare me a delicacy for breakfast- a delightful surprise. She saw it as a small gesture, but to me… oh my. Time to think differently, my friend.
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