Christmas Eve

This evening, walking home down a dusty red dirt road, having finished a couple fudge deliveries with John, I said to him, "When I get old and you are all grown up, this is going to be the way you remember the life you had when you were little." Maybe a bit too contemplative for a six-year-old (is he really six already? I had to re-add up the years just to be certain). But I smiled at the thought of how my kids will remember their childhood Christmases some day.

In the morning, we sang Christmas carols as a family, and were even joined by two of our neighbors. Later in the morning, a dear couple we had lived beside in Bangui came by for a visit. It was sweet to see them, though our hearts felt heavy as we talked about what we were doing this same morning two years ago...and as we shared our ongoing sadness at the loss and turmoil our loved ones in CAR have experienced between then and now.

A fun moment was watching the kids opening cards we recently got in the mail, posted all the way from the U.S. to Cameroon. Nobody minded that they were Thanksgiving cards. Thanks, Grandmama and Granddaddy! Lois was overly delighted to have her own card: mostly, I think, because it was a piece of paper that we did not snatch away from her. We never ever let her hold a piece of paper with any value (it's not without reason that we have given her the nickname "La Destructa.")

Lois was quite taken in by Julia showing her how to prepare njama-njama.

I was pleased when Julia told me that one of her friends who is back in town for Christmas, having traveled from TX, has told her that in Dallas there is such a big Cameroonian presence that you can find pretty much any ingredients for delicious Cameroonian food right there in the Metroplex. She said there are people there who grow the vegetables one can find here, and there is a market where you can buy them, even if they are a bit pricier than here. Who knew?

I love how every time you make friends in a new country, and begin to learn more about the culture, a door to a whole new world seems to open up. Kind of a cool thought to imagine getting a chance, perhaps, to interact with the Cameroonian community in Dallas at some future time!

So, njama-njama a type of greens that is prepared with red palm oil, tomatoes and onions. It is served alongside corn fufu (something kind of like polenta). All five of us love it. We ate it for lunch and had the leftovers for supper.

Thanks to some marshmallows and walnuts that travelled to us by a ship across the Atlantic, and to a blend of chocolate from our neighbor and local Cameroonian chocolate bought at a tiny shop on our road, I was able to make a batch of Mom's famous fudge recipe. A spontaneous decision, but definitely the right one. It made it feel so much more like Christmas. And it brought back plenty of memories. Memories of stirring the pot for Mom at our little Lauderdale house (at that time it seemed like the stirring was SO hard and took SO long!) And memories of mixing up a big batch of fudge at in the quiet and spacious downstairs kitchen of the house where we spent an unexpected Christmas in Gamboula on our way to Cameroon in 2012.

We had a nice Skype time with some family members, which included a bell-ringing rendition of Jingle Bells.

Now it's half an hour before midnight on Christmas Eve, and the obnoxious music at the bar(s?) nearby is blasting through the windows as it does most nights. It will probably continue all night long. Incongruous, in a way, with the peace- and joy-filled advent we are celebrating.

But at the same time, kind of not. This noise--too loud, too late, too much--is half of the meaning of Christmas, the reason Christmas had to happen anyways. The forms bending low under life's crushing load, the strong hate that mocks the song of "peace on earth," the dark shadow of death hanging over our days, the noise of selfish strife and truth-drowning noise in the crowded city streets. All of these are the early verses of the hymns. It's the heavy half of reality: the sinful in need of forgiveness, the sick in need of healing, the estranged in need of restoration, the blinded in need of light, the dying in need of eternal life.

Come, thou long expected Jesus, 
born to set thy people free; 
from our fears and sins release us, 
let us find our rest in thee.  
Israel's strength and consolation, 
hope of all the earth thou art; 
dear desire of every nation, 
joy of every longing heart.

There is a bright answer to the question, to all those things that are so wrong, to the emptiness and the need: Jesus, the Light, the Life, the Door, the Lamb. We rejoice that He came. We long for the day when He will come again, our long expected Jesus.

Christmas programs

It seems like it's been so long since I got to sit and watch a children's Christmas program. Well, yesterday, I got to enjoy two!

In the morning, Sam and I took a taxi to the school of our sweet little friends Grace and Lois. They and their schoolmates did an amazing job of singing many Christmas classics, including a couple of Cameroonian songs. We loved listening to their heartfelt performance.

And all the grownups (including me) seemed to really enjoy the little quirks that happened along the way. Like, when half the group would be swaying to the music one direction and half the group would be swaying the opposite direction, and a few kids would be standing there looking completely clueless.

Grace is singing a solo, and there's Lois on the far left.

After the nearly two hours of singing, the students had a break from performing and were given a delicious meal of chicken, rice and grapefruit soda. Sam was invited to eat with them too, which he did with gusto.

The three buddies--Lois, Sam and Grace:

Right after the first program, Sam and I took a taxi straight over to John's school where he has been participating in a second "Joint Learning Session" of the school year. Over the past two weeks of the JLS, he has rejoined the kindergarten class and gotten to take swimming lessons each afternoon. Here is John with all the participants in the JLS, and then with his very sweet teacher, Mrs. Ervin:

The rest of the family enjoyed getting to hear John and his fellow kindergartners sing and recite a poem at the JLS closing ceremony:

And, still at home much of the time (except when she's riding on my hip or back to somewhere else), is Lois. She is not really the star of any show yet, nor patiently sitting in the audience of any Christmas programs (she was at John's, but barely lasted past the first performance--which, thankfully, was the kindergartners!) But she does continue to get plenty of attention at home. As of late, I've enjoyed watching how neatly she eats. She is very precise as she picks up each piece of food with her forefinger and thumb, carefully putting it in her mouth and chewing it before she picks up the next piece:

Ah, the small delights!

'tis the season...

More each year, I'm feeling a desire to celebrate the Advent season that leads up to Christmas: to build up an anticipation in our own hearts for the coming of Jesus to earth, and the celebration of that coming! So it occurred to me last Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent, to try to come up with some candle-lighting experience for the boys: one candle the first week, two the second week, and so on.

Due to lack of planning, I ended up just lighting one of our backup candles that we keep on hand for when the electricity goes out (some are in Coke bottles, while some - like this one - are in vodka bottles that we bought when they were filled with roasted, salted peanuts).

And we even ended up getting a Christmas tree from friends, which is set up and sparkling with two strings of LED lights (those, too, will keep shining even if the electricity goes out!)

Tonight, John said to me, "Mama, you HAVE to come take a picture of the moon!" This photo certainly does no justice to the gorgeous full, yellow moon that we were admiring. Being that it's December and all, I imagined how beautiful it will be looking tonight (the later version of tonight that is happening on the other side of the Atlantic) as the moonlight shines a long path across Minnesota snow.

I do miss the snow, but I also appreciate the fact that my boys could run outside post-bath, wearing only their shorts, to admire the full moon. That couldn't happen in Minnesota this time of year! 

Another advantage of living in a tropical climate is that even in December, if you are agile enough, you can still shimmy up the coconut tree in the front yard like a little monkey (and indeed, John does claim that he learned his mad climbing skills from our very own Curious George of yesteryear). I have no doubt John could quickly make it to the very top of the tree, but don't worry: we've come to an agreement that he must stop before reaching the height of the power line.

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