Christmas and memory

Christmas celebrations are here. I’m not a fan of it. Since childhood, I never have time to anxiously wait for new clothes on Christmas. However, during yestyear’s good time I had an opportunity to have Christmas and New Year’s clothes. There are also wonderful yet nostalgic memories that come with Christmas this day. This come back story is hinged on Christmas and its memories.

The first of it is that it’s Christmas that inspired my first published story Kirisimasi a wonderful translation of the term since it was once alien to this part of the world. Well, I should make it clear that it’s no longer alien. It is now an intrinsic part of our existence. I’m not going to trouble you with the details of the story. If you’re in Zimbabwe we can make an arrangement and you buy the anthology with the story and enjoy the story.

Christmas also takes me through painful memories of home before Chemutengure as Mabasa would call the uprooting killer force of modernity as we see it now ravaged our very being.

My sweet mother whom shared a story of hers reminded me of those days when almost everyone in our then intact family would gather and have wonderful times feasting and joying.

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The pic and her caption reminded me how I miss my favourite mother who happens to be my grandmother, my lovely mother and all the grandchildren who came to feel the shadow of granny love. I realized how certain life events leave us powerless as well as bruises  which even time cannot heal. I also realized how much we need to for our very own mental being.

Aside from my philosophical skepticism around parties and Christmas I would have liked it if everyday is filled with the day’s excessive predisposition to joy, partying and generosity. As you celebrate learn to love and share anything you have with those who have been given a blow of lack by life.

Off to the new year