Christmas *10*

i woke up christmas morning with a slight sense of emptiness. i didn't let myself think about it much though, because i didn't want to have an over dramatic holiday. so what i thought, i'm away from my family? i was with them on thanksgiving. we had a really great time, so i should be thankful for that and revisit those old memories. i know they miss me and i miss them, but i'm choosing to embrace the day here. perk up, i told myself.

i turned on the only christmas song i could find in my cd collection, and laid in bed with it on repeat. i really didn't know what to do with myself. i could hear Sakola and Collins in the living room, singing gospel in twi. their voices are ancient, deep, and beautiful.

but still i'd rather have listened to Dave Matthews Band "the christmas song" on my disc man over and over and over.

i don't think i moved for an hour. the boys peeked into my room a few times and i pretended i was sleeping. i wasn't ready to come out. there was no tree, no family walking around outside fuzzy haired in flannel pajamas, no food except some old rotten tomatoes that i felt too wasteful to throw away.

i opened my Bible and tried to get into the spirit. tried to read some passages about what this time is all about. tried to get into Jesus. but then my mind refuted. the 25th wasn't actually his birthday, so i didn't have to force myself. i could do this any day.

and in actuality, I appreciate his birth everyday. i felt too contrived lying there in bed reading passages just for the sake of the calendar, so i shut my bible and stood up.

what to do? it was early...

the radio had been turned on to an english speaking station, and 50's christmas carols were blasting through our echo-ey house. the boys were singing along, in thick accents, and i couldn't help but love them both. did they turn the music on for me? i convinced myself they did, so i walked outside and greeted them.

collins was sitting in his chair, crutches sprawled out below his feet, smiling big at me like always.

"good morning" he said. his speech was extra slow today.

i gave him a little bow. "good morning sir and a merry christmas to you!"

he shrieked and stomped his feet.

"yeah, you too." he said.

i looked across the room at Sakola. he was busy cleaning, bent over sweeping the floor with a broom that had no handle. he looked up and gave me a smile, then kept at his work.

when i realized nothing exciting was happening out in the living room, and it was still early enough to be anti-social i retreated back into my room.

hmmm... today is a special day, i thought, and its up to me to really make it great.

i looked over at the ball gown hanging from the molding above the window.

YES!

i slipped into the dress with all the excitement i felt in the women's restroom that night at the sushi restaurant.

it felt great on, very... majestic. my only complaint was that it zipped up all the way, it was in fact, a "perfect" fit.

i jumped around my room a little (quietly, i wouldn't want my roommates to think i was crazy), i danced and watched the bottom of my dress sway from side to side. i wished for a mirror. where was santa when you really needed him?

the only reflection in the entire village was the one the birds continuously crash into out front. that meant i had to be brave and make an appearance. i had to leave my room, walk past the boys out into the front and check myself out. they'd be able to see me and i didn't want that. i wanted to look in the reflection and practice moves, some faces, and a few walks. i didn't want observers.

i decided to just stay in my room.

maybe my window could offer me something?

i walked over to it.

much too dusty.

i could clean it?

but then everyone would be able to see in.

i killed the idea.

i was really enjoying the few minutes i'd spent in the dress, and knew i didn't have the courage to wear it to church that day. so i grabbed my digital camera, set it up on timer mode, and did a modeling session behind closed doors.

the camera was placed at just the right angle that all the pictures feature me with a greasy double chin. mmm... attractive.

how much of christmas was really about Jesus, and how much of it was about tradition and emotion? just the act of getting dressed up (even if it was in ridiculous garb) got me more excited for the day than any thing else had so far. i desperately wanted to be more satisfied by the birth than by my dress, but at that moment my dress was winning out. or maybe, god gave me this dress to get excited about his birthday? i couldn't come to terms with that reasoning, instead i had to admit to myself that i was shallow and would never fully understand life.

this put me into a mid morning depression that i was sure church would fix.

i arrived at church in a reasonable outfit with a smile on my face.

the pastor called me up to his shaky wooden desk and showed me some pictures he had just recently developed. i was in 3 of them, each one i was standing with a different person i did not know, and one picture with him. a few weeks before they had me walk around to the back side of the church and stand by a tree and take pictures with these people.

i would have been annoyed except for the fact that no one seemed to know how to use the camera. watching the pastor try to explain to each person, and then frustrated grab it from their hands and give it to someone else (who also didn't know) was just too funny. the camera was bright yellow and made of thick plastic. it looked like a fisher price toy, with the attachable flash that towers high above like a Lego structure.

"no no no, not like that" pastor said. we were posing together for a picture, and i could tell he wanted it just right. he walked over and gave explicit directions to a little old man. the man nodded his head rapidly absorbing the advice on technique.

"okay, yes pastor, i can do it."

so pastor ran back to me and stiffened up for the shot. he even pulled a flower from the tree and held it between us, a little natural beauty always makes for a nice shot.

the man taking the photo had everything down perfectly. he was looking through the right hole, the camera was facing in the correct direction, he was about to push the button that actually takes pictures...

"um, pastor, his finger is over the lens." i said.

he relaxed, grunted, and ran over to the guy. then he shooed him away and called an older woman over.

she handled the camera like it was radioactive. her eye was about 1 foot away from the viewfinder and she kept moving it around like she was practicing Chi Gong.

i burst out laughing and didn't stop. pastor laughed too, although i don't think we were laughing at the same things.

i looked closer at the woman. i recognized her. it was the same lady i had seen earlier carrying a pile of firewood, half the size of a mini-cooper, on her head.

i marveled at life for a brief moment.

i thought about how my skills don't seem to shine in the village. i suck at washing clothes with my hands, am still learning how to cook efficiently over fire, and can't peel fruit in swift graceful twists of the wrist. but i do know how to work a camera.

"here let me show you" i said. " put your eye up close here, when you see us and we are ready, press this button. okay?"

"yoooo (okay)" she said.

the pictures turned out nicely. the people who took them were all gathered around me, giving glances of approval. after sometime we all went back to our seats to get ready for the sermon.

now i must explain this church.
it is quaint, held in a building that has no foundation developed and no walls higher than my shoulders. the floor is dirt, hard packed and lumpy. the roof is made of dried palm leaves, which i personally love. the atmosphere is breezy and cool and earthy. much how i imagine the first churches (that weren't inside homes) must have been.
the congregation size is close to 20, from what i've observed. chameleons skitter about, chasing each other across the ground while pastor stands behind his wooden desk and preaches The Good News. goats and roosters seem to hold conversation but the people eventually drown them out with their booming authentic cries.
some people bring their own chairs and some of us just sit on the wooden benches. there are 2 to choose from. i like to sit in the "back".
Nana Kwame, (Collins and Sakolas brother (also my roommate)) carries Collins chair to church for him every Sunday. Collins usually arrives about a half hour after everyone, sweaty and grinning. the walk is long and not exactly handicap accessible.
the first time i followed Nana Kwame to church i thought he was kidding.

"this is it?" i asked.

"yes."

"where are all the people?"

"they come soon. they come Kissy, don't you worry. they come. ahahaha"

slowly the benches filled up and everyone was surprised to see a white lady around. i shook hands and answered basic questions.

Christmas felt like old times again. everyone knew who i was and was happy to see me, and i them.

the pastor really caters to me, by speaking his message in both twi and english. he makes references to California and my family and friends. he tries to see Ghana from a foreigners point of view and works that into what he's saying. he said i must really be sacrificing to spend my time in blazing sun in the day and getting chomped by mosquitoes at night. i thought it was keen of him to notice, but i told him it wasn't that much of a sacrifice. the sun makes me happily nostalgic and i take malaria meds.

i have to pay close attention when he talks because when it is in English it is only for me.

at one point he asked me

"keycey, are you listening to me?"

i was startled. i wasn't prepared for that. i had dozed off for a split second, wallowed in homesickness, and returned. i opened my eyes really wide and said i had heard.

"so when your family comes to pick you up at the airport" he said pronouncing words the way good preachers do "how do you think they will feel?"

i wasn't sure if i was supposed to answer. i stayed silent.

"how will they feel? huh? HOW WILL THEY FEEL?" he asked again.

was the repetition for flair or for a response? i stayed silent, but attentive.

"Oh keycey! They will be happy! Oh they will rejoice! They will hug you and embrace you" he was jumping around and enthused.

I wanted to cry. I didn't want to think about being home hugging my mom. In that moment, i wanted to be there. I could imagine it perfectly.

"So keycey, this is how we should be welcoming Jesus." he said. "On his birthday, welcome him, please. He's come."

when he said that i felt the attention shift from my relationship to my family, to my relationship with God. i saw the holes in his metaphor, but the feeling it evoked was spot on.

i suddenly realized what i wanted this day to be about. and it was.

after one of the church members finished auctioning of rice and yams, i left and took a walk over to the clinic to see if any babies were going to make their grand entry on Christmas day.