A simple little Christmas
written on Dec. 26th 2023
We gently woke up at 8AM on Christmas morning to the warmth of the Tanzanian sun and a spectacular view of the Rungwe Mountains. After checking the news to see if by some Christmas miracle the world is a better place, I popped outside with my binoculars. There wasn’t a breeze in the air, it was already HOT. The visibility was pretty good, and I could see far into the distance. There wasn’t a hint of Christmas in sight. “Krismasi njema”, I said to another guest who was sleepily squinting out of their tent nearby. Christmas is really not a “thing” here.
Our friend Christoph has joined us for a few weeks over Christmas. We’re staying on a farm for a few days, just east of Mbeya town in the Mbeya region of Southern Tanzania. It’s a lusciously green place surrounded by nature. It felt like a million miles away from home. After sending a quick voice note to my two besties, wishing them a Happy Christmas, I went off in search of a cup of tea. “African Pride” teabags are my go to here in Tanzania, and they even had fresh milk here - merry bloody Christmas to me! For breakfast we had “Mtori”, which is a beef stew cooked in a bone broth, a traditional breakfast of the Chaga tribe in Tanzania. If I had to choose one breakfast to eat every day for the rest of my life, it would probably be Mtori.
Towards midday the rain came. It’s “small rain season” here, so you can expect a few heavy showers every day. It is the heaviest rainfall you could imagine, where after a couple of minutes the road turns into a small stream. I don’t want to know what “big” rain season looks like, it seems we’ve avoided it so far… But rainy weather is the perfect reading weather, and so I took my Kindle to a quiet spot and enjoyed my book for a couple of hours. I’m currently reading a book about essentialism. Jesus Christ was supposedly an essentialist (as are most religious icons, like Mohammad and Buddha), so it’s kind of ironic that we celebrate the birth of a proud essentialist man in the most non-essentialist way possible.
After a meaty lunch and a few family FaceTime calls, we went for a walk on the farm. Willy, the manager at the farm, showed us around. We visited the chickens, ducks, turkeys, rabbits, and the farm’s resident cow who is awaiting the arrival of her calf. The laying chickens produce 3,500 eggs per day, and the farm sells them at 400 Shillings per egg.
After spending some time with the lonely cow with no name (Dominik suggested naming her Emma), we went for our obligatory Christmas Day walk. Our walk took us through maatoke plantations, avocado plantations, and cornfields - it appears that that the Mbeya region is the corn basket of Tanzania. When heading back to the farm’s campsite, we only had to follow the loud music. The party had started without us. Many people had arrived for the Christmas BBQ, and kids were running around high on soda. It was time for my first beer of the day, which was impressively late given my track record… 5.30PM!!! We realised soon enough that we were the worst dressed people at the farm - the Tanzanians had turned up in style. We quickly had to clean ourselves up…
It wasn’t long until we were up dancing. Men, women, children, and babies, nobody left behind. The mothers swaying from side to side with the sleeping babies tied to their backs, the loud music didn’t seem to bother them. Our last night in Tanzania, bonding with strangers over East African music, and showing off the Swahili we’d picked up during the last four months. Today we leave Swahili-land and cross the border to Malawi. Around midnight we called it a night, brushed our teeth at the back of the car, and retreated to our tents. I felt a strange sense of solidarity with all of the people around the world who were also spending Christmas night sleeping in a tent. Except for me it was by choice.
It’s a disgustingly dystopian reality that we’re living in these days. In a way I was thankful I could “opt out” of Christmas traditions this year. What else is Christmas but the celebration of the birth of a refugee child who was denied shelter, and then executed by the state as an adult.
Saoirse don Phalaistín 🇵🇸
Absolutely adored diving into those paragraphs! The line about celebrating the most essentialist man by doing so in such a non-essentialist way possible really got me 😄. We should be often reminded what the day truly means.
Wishing you unparalleled experiences and boundless growth ahead. Sending warmest wishes and abundant hugs, Zulaa