"And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmastime..."

I think it was the first week in December when I heard my first Christmas song of the year playing on the radio in Accra.  Still feeling like it was August, I was completely thrown off guard.  And I wondered, why does this feel so out of place? Should not one be able to experience the Christmas spirit regardless of location, climate, or customs? Is it not about the way we treat people and our observance of religious traditions? But then I realized, it’s more than that. I do need the Christmas atmosphere in which I was raised to feel the same type of excitement I have always had at this time of year.  The songs evoke memories.  It’s the reminder of what the season will bring.  It’s the heightened expectation of experiencing all that the songs are talking about.  It’s knowing that I will watch The Santa Clause and cut down my own tree and string lights around the house. It is too hard to listen to Jingle Bells when I know I probably will not hear any.  I cannot shriek at the joy of a Winter Wonderland when I know I won’t get one.  And boy, does hot cocoa in front of a fire sound like the last thing I want.  This holiday season, I listened to Christmas music and felt the love of family and friends, but I missed waking up in my house to the smell of fresh sugar cookies, sitting in front of the warm air coming from our register, and watching the tiny snow flakes falling so delicately outside the kitchen window.  THAT is why Christmas was different here. It’s a different Christmas spirit.

Black Santas out the window:  I asked Lesego if she grew up with a black or a white Santa.  She said they didn't have Santa in the village, but she always saw a white Santa. Only later in life did she see black Santas. 

Nevertheless, I truly enjoyed the 25^th (and 6^th and 7^th) with my host family and roommate.  It was nice to be reminded that Ghana is more than students living in hostels; there are indeed families that celebrate together.  Our dinner was wonderful.  Not knowing what to expect, I pictured fufu and kenkey on our Christmas dinner table, but instead there was a magnificent turkey.  (Okay, there was still rice and stew, but this is Ghana and it would be just too absurd to not have rice…) Six out of Fredi and Emma’s seven children were there, one of who returned from the UK and was accompanied by his wife and little girl.  We exchanged presents- I got a beautiful African dress from Fredi and Emma and gave them a book about the history of Milwaukee- ate, and watched movies.  Thankfully, they have a room with air conditioning so I got my dose of cold for at least a bit. :)

The holiday season always reminds you of how lucky you are… not for what you have or where you are, but for who you have.  In my telephone call back home, I talked to my parents, my brother, my aunts, uncle, cousins, and godmother, all of whom regretted my absence but were excited for my Christmas experience abroad and guaranteed me how much I was loved.  I ensured them that I was still with family here.