It seems that nearly everyone wants to know what happens in Zambia for Christmas. And I'm afraid that the folks who really want to know are likely to be really disappointed with the answer.
A little context may help.
One afternoon, Mukimba stopped by the project house's cooking shelter and reclined on one of the chairs. He looked at me sideways, long arms lanking behind his head, and asked, "Why do you celebrate Christmas?"
I assumed that this question was to try to trip me up into betraying some sort of Western materialist philosophy, so knowing his devotion, I answered quickly, "It is the celebration of the birth of Christ."
"But how do we know that it is December 25th?"
"We don't. It likely wasn't. We just picked a day and went with it."
"So it comes from man, not from God."
"Of course."
"That is why we in the Seventh Day Church do not celebrate Christmas."
There are many Christian demoninations in Zambia, or the parts of it that I've seen, but it is true that Seventh Day Baptists, Seventh Day Adventists, and Jehovah's Witnesses are very prominent — and none of these denominations recognize Christmas as anything but a secular celebration more concerned with business than the Bible. This, in fact, is precisely Mukimba's argument; that we shouldn't observe any religious rite not specifically sanctioned in the Bible. I asked him about the Festival of Booths, and he responded in that delightfully brilliant way that some people have of deflecting the question leaving you uncaring that you never got an answer.
There is Christmas, though, and in the high churches (Roman, Anglican) there is a sense of it really being Christ's Mass — that there are feast days for saints and other occasions, and the birth of Christ is one of them; not nearly so important as the Resurrection, of course, but a good excuse for incense and candles and music.
As for the secular world; every now and again you might see a sparsely decorated Christmas tree, usually in establishments that cater to the out-of-country crowd. Christmas music is occasionally heard in some shops the week of Christmas, but it's by no means universal. There is some reference on television to Christmas gifts, but you get the sense that this is not at all an important element of the season for most Zambians (besides the fact that, for the past week, the call from the street has changed from "Mzungu! I'm poor. Give me money," to "Mzungu! Christmas! Give me a present.")
The day of Christmas was a fairly typical Sunday. Some shops were closed, others were open; the traffic in Kitwe died down, but not appreciably; the Christmas-keeping churches were not, as far as I could tell, any more or less busy than on any other Sunday. Occasionally someone lit off fire crackers; and there were advertisements about parties at various night clubs on the Eve.
People who have known me for a while know that none of this is especially disappointing to me. For if the outward signs of Christmas were sparse, so was the inward turmoil. No one was stressed out about preparations, at least none that I encountered. No one was worried about how they would afford gifts; in fact, the entire notion of gift-giving seems to be lost in a culture where families and friends share every material element so liberally. Likewise, the notion of family time is lost in a culture that celebrates family and friends every day. And I don't know for sure, but I think the notion of a "Blue Christmas" would be lost, too, in a land where tragedy and disease and poverty are so common that there is no Norman Rockwell normal against which to juxtapose.
It gives rise to a purity of intention, or something that looks like it. People who believe that there was a Saviour born for their sake get to celebrate that birth if they wish, or they choose not to, and those who do not so believe continue hence.
A little context may help.
One afternoon, Mukimba stopped by the project house's cooking shelter and reclined on one of the chairs. He looked at me sideways, long arms lanking behind his head, and asked, "Why do you celebrate Christmas?"
I assumed that this question was to try to trip me up into betraying some sort of Western materialist philosophy, so knowing his devotion, I answered quickly, "It is the celebration of the birth of Christ."
"But how do we know that it is December 25th?"
"We don't. It likely wasn't. We just picked a day and went with it."
"So it comes from man, not from God."
"Of course."
"That is why we in the Seventh Day Church do not celebrate Christmas."
There are many Christian demoninations in Zambia, or the parts of it that I've seen, but it is true that Seventh Day Baptists, Seventh Day Adventists, and Jehovah's Witnesses are very prominent — and none of these denominations recognize Christmas as anything but a secular celebration more concerned with business than the Bible. This, in fact, is precisely Mukimba's argument; that we shouldn't observe any religious rite not specifically sanctioned in the Bible. I asked him about the Festival of Booths, and he responded in that delightfully brilliant way that some people have of deflecting the question leaving you uncaring that you never got an answer.
There is Christmas, though, and in the high churches (Roman, Anglican) there is a sense of it really being Christ's Mass — that there are feast days for saints and other occasions, and the birth of Christ is one of them; not nearly so important as the Resurrection, of course, but a good excuse for incense and candles and music.
As for the secular world; every now and again you might see a sparsely decorated Christmas tree, usually in establishments that cater to the out-of-country crowd. Christmas music is occasionally heard in some shops the week of Christmas, but it's by no means universal. There is some reference on television to Christmas gifts, but you get the sense that this is not at all an important element of the season for most Zambians (besides the fact that, for the past week, the call from the street has changed from "Mzungu! I'm poor. Give me money," to "Mzungu! Christmas! Give me a present.")
The day of Christmas was a fairly typical Sunday. Some shops were closed, others were open; the traffic in Kitwe died down, but not appreciably; the Christmas-keeping churches were not, as far as I could tell, any more or less busy than on any other Sunday. Occasionally someone lit off fire crackers; and there were advertisements about parties at various night clubs on the Eve.
People who have known me for a while know that none of this is especially disappointing to me. For if the outward signs of Christmas were sparse, so was the inward turmoil. No one was stressed out about preparations, at least none that I encountered. No one was worried about how they would afford gifts; in fact, the entire notion of gift-giving seems to be lost in a culture where families and friends share every material element so liberally. Likewise, the notion of family time is lost in a culture that celebrates family and friends every day. And I don't know for sure, but I think the notion of a "Blue Christmas" would be lost, too, in a land where tragedy and disease and poverty are so common that there is no Norman Rockwell normal against which to juxtapose.
It gives rise to a purity of intention, or something that looks like it. People who believe that there was a Saviour born for their sake get to celebrate that birth if they wish, or they choose not to, and those who do not so believe continue hence.
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