As the days grow shorter for our friends in the northern hemisphere, here in Tanzania, we are approaching the warmest time of the year. Mangos are in season. The blushing fruit hanging on branches beyond the reach of impatient children could kind of resemble ornaments on a tree. If you stretch your imagination a bit.
Away from the shiny, stripe-y, jingle-bell themed campaigns of corporate America, from cold cheeks and lost scarves, from advent services at church, holiday parties and secret santa gift exchanging, it hardly feels like Christmas as we are used to it this year. Unless we count the fact that U-Turn, the closest thing to a grocery store around, is carrying mincemeat and turkeys from Kenya. Or that sad, plastic pine trees are popping up here and there.
Then again, tomorrow night German friends of ours are hosting a Christmas party with cheese fondue, mulled wine, lights, decorations and everything. We'll bring a batch of spiced cookies a la Martha Stewart. Despite a blackout in the middle of baking, they turned out perfectly. And I can still smell the molasses, nutmeg and butter on my fingers.
It’s beginning to feel a little more like Christmas.
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