Christmas in Gisenyi.

Le 25 decembre   There’s so much to be said for a Christmas season in the middle of Rwanda. First of all, it’s not felt like the holidays because it’s been sunny and warm – I’m wearing sandals, skirt, and t-shirt every day (and sunscreen). Also, and probably a more significant difference, there’s no commercialism. No Black Friday shopping, no Christmas lights on houses, no Santa Clauses at the lack of malls, no wrapping presents – no presents. I didn’t realize until this week that it was more the lack of stuff more than the difference in climate that had me so confused. I’m used to carols on the radio and ads in the paper, tv, and stores. I’m also used to shopping and wrapping, which I’ve had to do none of this year.

The result? Christmas is about the birth of Jesus. We celebrate by going to mass, singing, dancing, and being together. There were no feasts going on the last few days, but people go to mass and visit one another’s houses to spend time with those that are important.

Yesterday, we had mass in the morning (the daily 6h15 mass) and then went back to mass at 17h00. I was a bit surprised to find this out, but went anyway. (I’ve got so many bonus Jesus points saved up by now.) Am I sure ever glad we had that evening mass – it was by far my favorite mass here so far and one of my favorite masses of all time.
 
In preparing for mass, I already heard the start of the drums. We’re just next to the church, so every time the drummers play we hear the whole show. This time, they were calling us to mass. Walking up to the parish, you could already feel the pure joy emanating from the great building. Twelve men in white banging on the large, traditional drums out in front of the church welcome the masses. Inside, I start beaming – the triangular, colored strings of flags you might often see at a car lot were hanging in multitudes across the church. At the front, a large manger was set up – fully equipped with blinking, colored lights, of course. Oh, and a banana tree next to it. A HUGE banana tree, which was taken from our yard in the afternoon, towered over the manger on the altar.

I sat myself down next to Sr. Ema and as the mass commenced I became aware that I was still smiling. No – I was beaming “from ear to ear,” as my dad would say. Everything about this mass was already so special to me before it had even began. The mass proceeded, and we clapped and sang at the appropriate times, and at the time of Consecration where there’s usually clapping, there was also drums! Ah! What a celebration, indeed.

Just before Communion, I realized that it was starting to get so dark outside that it was hard to see in the church. I’ve never been to mass here at night before, and was afraid that there were no lights in the church. Alas, the lights buzzed on right before Communion in order to avoid a major catastrophe. (One thing about Rwanda is that at Communion there’s no “order” per se. When you feel like receiving Communion, you get up and go. In large numbers, it gets tricky.)

Just after Communion, in danced children dressed as angels and the choir started up. ::POOF:: Out went the lights. Complete darkness. The only glimmer was coming from the two candles on the altar, which created silhouettes of the dancers. Ah, it was magnificent. This was not the aim, surely, but how wonderful it was. In came more children dressed as the three wise men, bringing gifts to the manger. They sang, danced, and yes – we all joined in. There was then a second song, a sort of “Alleluia,” and now each person was moving and dancing. Imagine – complete darkness, singing and dancing because Christ was born. Ah, what a moment. A small child that had seated himself to me early on in the mass danced away and I followed – he beamed.

As mass let out, one of the other sisters came to find us with her phone (used as a beacon of light) so that we could make it out of the church in safety. All around, we were hugging and greeting one another with “Noheri Nziza!” (Merry Christmas!) It was official – we’ve had mass, it’s time to start celebrating. The drums pounded and as we made our way through the crowd, we greeted and hugged everyone that we could see. (Mind you, it was much easier for them to see me than for me to see them, as my skin doubles as a reflective material.) What joy!

We danced our way through the masses, following Sr. Ema with her faint light. All the way back to the house, we sang in a variety of languages, concluding with “Feliz Navidad” in the kitchen. It’s a song we all know, and with Sr. Ema being from Argentina it has a special significance for her.

Together, we shared the feast that Sr. Ema and I had prepared during the day along with Fanta (saved for special occasions) and the strawberry ice cream that Sister had made a few days before. (I’ll tell you, I’ve never had better ice cream in my life!) At the end of the meal, we cleaned up and went to pray together. Hugs, “Urote Imana”s (“dream of God”) and off we went to bed.

Going to bed, I thought of all the children around the world who were dreaming of Santa and sugarplums and the presents of the morning and was fully contented to know that I didn’t have to worry about all that. For once, the celebration is solely about being together, solely about the birth of Christ.

I’m so lucky to have had this experience – Christmas in Rwanda. Though at home we try to focus on the true meaning of Christmas, it’s difficult to completely avoid the material aspects. I find comfort in the traditions of shopping for my loved ones, finding just the right gift, wrapping it in a beautiful way, decorating the tree and house (tastefully), preparing a feast, opening my stocking Christmas morning – I enjoy the customs of Christmas at home. It’s difficult to escape it when you’re living in a developed country, even if you really try. At the same time, I’m blessed to have been able to see what Christmas is like in another world – a Christmas without the stuff, as Gram Barry would say.  And how truly merry a Christmas it was.