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Saturday 17 January 2015

My grandmother's Christmas story...

SIKUKUU
(My grandma's story )
The only time of the year we'd eat chapati, rice and meat all at once,
A festive season it was, worth the name ,
Just after the "ebisimba ",the circumcised boys were set free to be men.
They graced their manhood with vigorous dances at the marketplace, adorned with ornaments.
Well it was that time of the year,
When my father would walk in from the white man's house,
Dangling some goodies..
We would all run to him,
Chanting "thatha Ochire beka ethwani nse "
Father is home, slaughter a cock.
Amazing beautiful time it was,
On the specific sacred bright Morning,
We would all go down to the river and have the scrub of our lives,
Get back home and smear some milking jelly,
Shine like a thoroughly cleaned sufuria!
We would then all excitedly put on our new clothes,
"Nguo ya sikukuu "
They would range from the well tailored "amasungora "cotton clothes, to the "amachabani "that's for the lucky ones,
Ready made clothes from Japan,
If it was too bad, hand-me-downs we would proudly wear,
Like Who cared? It was Christmas!
Our mothers would get their cornrows neatly done and align us all to church,
Where the village pastor would boom about a God,
A Messiah born on that day,
We would religiously chant hyms
While our minds wandered to our grandmother's hut
Where goodies especially the chapatis, rice and "mandas "
Were being prepared by the special experienced village cook.
After church,
We would all gather and have a proper fulfilling meal,
The women danced,
The men enjoyed their busaa,
There was plenty of milk, water and busaa to go around,
laughter sparkled,
Many goats and chicken were mercilessly brought to death,
Lots of chapatis,
Not forgetting new clothes for everyone!
The Messiah was born!
It was "siku ya furaha "happy day,
The much awaited SIKUKUU,
I remember the joy and homely feeling just like it was yesterday,
Well it's been 60 years,
Some of my grandchildren went to Mombasa forget Christmas,
My children only M-pesa me,
Some will call to wish me a merry Christmas,
They will send images on this thing called whatsapp that my granddaughter has!
Ah! Technology.. after all what is Christmas to them?
I miss the good old days.
When Christmas was Christmas!
Eh! Sikukuu.

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