Excerpts from the Peanut Gallery

Christmas 2007

The calendar on my computer tells me it’s December 24, 2007. I know that is in fact, not true. The real date is July 14^th. It’s a scorcher; the summer is only getting started. There is a nice breeze, but that somehow seems to take a break conveniently at the same hour of the day when the sun is its hottest. Either way, it certainly isn’t Christmas. Or is it?

Yesterday I was convinced that it was July 13^th (Friday, naturally). There was no way it could be the day before Christmas. That day is cold and damp and generally a progression from cup to cup of coffee, coffee, Christmas tea, more coffee, Gingerbread latte, Christmas tea and finally hot water, to keep warm and awake.

Hm, come to think of it, I did have a similar progression- coffee, coffee, apple juice- which I suppose could be substituted for hot cider- caramel macchiato (“Que significa gingerbread?”) Christmas tea: maybe we’re on to something here kids.

I was thinking about it this morning as I sat with my legs in the cool water of our pool- the only cool thing about a Managuan morning, which at 9am already feels like midday. I read through Luke 2. It’s so easy to breeze over that after having heard it so many times. I sat there, attempting to snap myself out of the self-pity and strange sentiment that can only be described as ‘off’ that has been hanging over my head for the last few days (did I do something wrong? Am I about to do something wrong?). I wanted snowy mountains, I wanted my full Christmas tree covered in red ribbon, I wanted my own candle-lit Christmas eve service that I have attended every year of my life except for 2005. I wanted to meet up for the annual gift-exchange with my friends in the Ironwood Starbucks (tall, n/f ½ sweet GB latte, with a vanilla dip gingerbread biscotti). I wanted things that can only be made during this month and in an oven.

Then I got to thinking, The heat, the palm trees, the scrubby kids I was off to meet in a few hours- these things were all much more at home in the original version of Christmas. And quite frankly: a pinch of cinnamon with the grounds makes for a decent substitute for eggnog or GB syrup in the coffee; my brother came thousands of kilometres to make sure I didn’t feel this haze of depression; my mom sent three tubs of home baking; and I got to swim in a crystalline pool on a sunny day and play with some crazy, loving children, two of whom gave me bracelets for Christmas because they love me. I’m sorry, what? How is it that two little girls who spend their days (including Christmas and I’d hazard a guess, every other statutory holiday) squeegeeing windows in a busy intersection in a Central American capital of median global consequence- how is it that these two girls give ME a Christmas present off their own wrists?

Its just one Christmas to pass this way, but I would be a fool not to recognise that there is just as much to be thankful for this year.

And still I keep coming back to this thought that this is probably much closer to what it was really like. That isn’t a judgement on how it is here or home, although we could and often do go down that path so easily- perhaps with good reason. But regardless, the heat, the dirt, the foreignness of it all, and the fact that it seems like any other normal day for me here in Managua- At home I am so attuned to the culture and daily life that I can at once, tell you in is December 24^th, even if I don’t have a calendar or way to tell the date. Here, there are differences yes, but for me to realise all the nuances, it takes more effort. And at any rate, what I have done so far, has not be spectacularly different from any Saturday that I have off: rest, read, check email, drink coffee, sit by the pool, go see some of the kids, swim, blog. The normalcy that I perceive for myself here was there for so many in Israel despite the profundity of the events taking place.

posted by Kiki @ 2:52 p.m.