Our First (Kapoeta) Christmas

When it’s consistently 90 degrees outside and you live in a place where people can’t afford even the cheapest holiday decorations (and you have no house in which to unpack your decorations), Christmas has a way of sneaking up on you. But, as the world over, Christmas did come to Kapoeta, and Francis and I made the most of our first Christmas as a family.

On Christmas Eve, we spent the morning at our still-empty house. I was determined that I’d wake up Christmas morning to a hot shower, something other than crepes for breakfast, and to some place that felt a little more like home. So, we set up an air mattress and the camping stove, and pulled out the small box of Christmas decorations that we’d sent from the States. While I hung our stockings and some ornaments from the still-empty curtain rods, Francis scavenged the brush pile for a suitable Christmas tree [he opted for what he later identified as a Desert Date—it did have thorns, but not nearly as many as some of the other options]. Later in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, we were invited to have snacks at the house of an American missionary couple [they are about the same age as us and have three little boys. Though our paths have seldom crossed since we arrived in town, the wife and I have exchanged many emails over the last few months. She really is a kindred spirit (alleluia!) and so I’m sure you’ll hear more about her in future posts.] Though not exactly a traditional Christmas gathering (there was pepperoni pizza, beefy cheese dip, and fudgy brownies!), it was so nice to commiserate with others who are craving some of the same American goodies that I miss, experimenting with gardening, and (even more importantly) struggling with the reality of being someone who “has” in a land of “have-nots”.

[Pictures: my attempt at decorating an unfurnished house; gifts for the American boys (poptarts in bubble wrap]



As advertised, we woke up Christmas morning in our new house, though not without some glitches. First off, the air mattress that we had borrowed had sprung a slow leak, and so we woke up at 4am essentially sleeping on the tile floor. Around that same time, we realized that even the nighttime in Kapoeta is hot—we’d shut off the generator (and thus the air-conditioner and any fans) at bedtime, but the house still managed to absorb heat. I re-inflated the mattress while Francis turned on the generator, and we went back to sleep for a bit before Francis was awakened because one of the compound guards hadn’t shown up for duty. When he returned from handling that situation, we had our first meal in our new house (cereal, juice, and some bread made by my new friend), and opened cards and presents. Then we headed for church. Now, as I’ve previously reported, Mass is typically 2 hours long because everything is done in 2 languages, and so I’d prepared myself for an extended service. We arrived to the church 20 minutes early to find it 75% full—it was 100% over capacity by the time mass started and there were even more people outside the church when we left. I was at first embarrassed when we were ushered to the VIP seats (plastic Africa chairs on the side facing the altar, rather than the typical backless wooden benches), but realized it was a blessing after sitting through a nearly 3-hour service (plus, it provided an excellent view for people-watching). The church itself had what I think were the only Christmas decorations in town (if you don’t count my imported stash)—a 3’ fake tree with some lights and lots of foil decorations on the altar, and prayer-flag-type streamers strung throughout. I was slightly disappointed that there wasn’t the pageantry and costumes that I was warned about. But it wasn’t without excitement. Mass was interrupted at one point by a parade of people marching (and singing) through the back of the church. There was a crazy old man wrapped in a mosquito bed-net who regularly stood right in front of the alter waving his (only) arm and admonishing little kids to be quiet. In the middle of the homily, the priest led the (predominantly non-English-speaking) congregation in a rousing rendition of “Number one, Jesus is number one...”. And announcements included 30+ minutes of speeches from politicians (and political hopefuls) who were back in their home district for the holiday, and eager to talk to their constituents, many of whom I’d imagine rarely make it into town. After mass, we visited some friends at the Pentecostal mission (they fed 500+ people after their Christmas service), made phone calls to the family (our Christmas night; their late-morning), and then joined the same friends at the safari camp for a turkey dinner (which was very juicy but served, of course, with French fries, rice, and a bean medley).




The day after Christmas (Boxing Day, as our British friends call it) was our first anniversary. We headed back over to our house, fired up the generator, and had a lovely day simply relaxing. I’d gotten Francis a book on East African trees, and so he spent the better part of the day identifying which species we have on our compound. I caught up on some of the news (via podcast) and cross-stitched. In the evening, we made dinner on the campstove (couscous with artichoke pesto and sundried-tomatoes). It’s amazing how quickly a year goes by, but also how much can change in just one year!

[Pictures: This year and last]



Thank you to everyone who has sent holiday and anniversary well-wishes, particularly since I’ve been delinquent in sending any sort of Christmas greeting (electronic or otherwise). My New Year’s resolution: to do better. Enjoy the winter weather for me!