Pleasantly Unconventional
Merry Christmas guys!
I honestly hope you’re not rolling your eyes at me because you think I’m late. Hey I’m not. Aside the several rumours that the baby Jesus wasn’t born in winter and could definitely not be a member of #decemberbornsrock, I still think my timing is perfect. I decided not to post this on December 25. Why? Because I’m unconventional. I’m unorthodox. I’m not precisely post-modern, I’m just exceptional.
This year’s Christmas has not been any different from last year’s. I decided simply that I was not going to send to practically anyone on my contact list (only God knows how long that list is!) a Christmas wish :I. Why? I’m tired. I’m tired of having to figure out a message that should be very different from everyone else’s so it’s read by my contacts who would be receiving at least 20 messages per minute (I promise I’m not exaggerating). I’m tired of having to get angry at my friends simply because they’ve not even read my Christmas wishes to get me the usual Many Happy Returns as if adds an extra alphabet to my surname. And do we bless God for Whatsapp here in Ghana! Last Christmas, I was just tired and angry that I had to get enough credits so that despite Tigo’s charges for SMS to other networks, I had to pretend not to realise that the third number of people’s cell numbers were not 7 and add an emoji to the lengthy message to express my joy that Christmas is here. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with Christmas, in fact I love it, I’m just Maame Fowaa, a Ghanaian girl tired of rules and the way things are usually done. I’m pleased to be unconventional.
I spent my Christmas in Sunyani in the Brong-Ahafo region of Ghana this year. It was quiet, serene, dusty, and cold and everything else I did not imagine. And that, I can take. But the live chickens! They just wouldn’t stop coming! As at yesterday, we had up to 4 live chickens at home to four people and I was, for perfect knowledge of the best word, UPSET. Who was going to kill all those things for my father and his annoying assistant to eat? Well I don’t care if they are aware that I’m a planned vegetarian by age 30, but I don’t do killing live animals or better still, I can’t. And that, makes me an undesirable wife by the typical Ghanaian. My reaction to it? You know that Skype emoji with the dull eyes, that’s it. I can’t be bothered! The trend again…conventions — that are totally unnecessary. If all my cooking is rubbished by the fact that I can’t, no, that I do not want to dress a chicken, then go find your dream Ghanaian wife to marry.
And that’s why I’ve remained a Christian over the years, the concept of grace — the truth that we are not acquitted because of anything we’ve done or because of anything we are but because we just are. Righteousness imputed on us only if we believe. Very simple. And that’s Christianity. But then we humans have a thing for complexity and can’t wrap our heads around that. That as long as tattoos are not causing a person to lose his or her salvation, it’s okay, that the number of piercings you have does not guarantee a ticket to hell, that the 60 babes and over you slept with before you got saved doesn’t count and that there are just no rules. We can’t get over the fact that Jesus does not exactly want us to celebrate the unknown number of wise men who brought him three gifts or that we do not necessarily have to adore an infant Jesus who was a baby only for a while and that we do not have to pretend to love our next-door neighbour only for Christmas and get it over and done with after December 31.
Christmas is a time of reflection, a me-myself-and-I time, when we remember that several years ago, some indescribable victory was won for us and assess how we’ve been able to make use of that. A time where we analyse how consistent our confessions have been with what we are supposed to be saying. How often we say, “I’m rich!” Or “I’m prosperous” and “I can do all things” instead of the too obvious truth of “Man, I’m broke” or “There’re so many things I lack” or that “I just can’t do anything”, forgetting that even non-Christian medical specialists confirm the effect of words.
Christmas, a time where we realise that the new creation is neither lascivious (that Bible-favourite word just means driven by lust) nor bitter, not forever angry or unforgiving, not absurdly jealous or envious, not impatient or unbelieving, but just full of love, is not one that is governed by rules. If you choose to show love by donating to an orphanage, that’s fine but then it has to be everything but what the church usually does on Christmas.
I listened to Stay High by Jonathan McReynolds over and over again. That was my Christmas song. It’s not a carol. And I don’t care. Because that’s me…an unconventional Ghanaian.
P.S. Xmas sounds like a pretty cool word, a shorter way that conforms to our fast way of doing things. But just so we don’t start believing that it’s just like Kwame Nkrumah’s birthday, whose significance we’ve forgotten, let’s just stick with Christmas, not because I’m still trying to figure out what the X could mean, but because it helps you join the beautiful world of the unorthodox.
