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18+ | | An African In Transition. | | by: Sarah ![View zwisis's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]](http://imgs.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/costumicons/ps-icon-elephant-60.gif "View zwisis's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]") ![Email User: zwisis [Offline / Private]](http://imgs.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/mail-off.gif "Email User: zwisis [Offline / Private]") | This item requires reviews with ratings.
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Created: 11:38am on 03-24-2005
Modified: 7:50am on 08-05-2009 | |
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Entry #481784, added on 01-17-07 @ 2:39 pm EST.
[Entry Access Restriction] None.
Title:
A Typical African Christmas Day?
Christmas morning was bright and sunny, quite a change from the hailstorm that hammered Bulawayo a few days earlier. The hailstones were so large they killed all the Koi fish in Mum’s fishpond, and stripped the trees and plants of their leaves. November to April is the rainy season in Zimbabwe, and while the drought-prone Matabeleland province welcomes any rain destructive hailstones are another story.
Lunchtime we arrived at Bridget and Tony’s house, situated on Beryl Drive, just up the road from my parent’s home. There were about 40 people at the house, most of them members of Bridget and Tony’s extended family. Bridget and her first husband had two daughters, Cindy and Shelly. Two more daughters – Chantelle and Robin – are the result of her second marriage. Of the four sister only Robin is single, and she moved to the UK in May last year. Cindy has two daughters, while Shelly has one of each. When one takes into consideration the family members and friends the numbers do start to add up. Bridget also invited a number of elderly people who would otherwise spend Christmas Day alone, partly because their own offspring were in another country/continent and mainly because Zimbabwe’s pensions are so inadequate they don’t even put a loaf of bread on the table once a month. Bridget is a very kind lady.
Spoke to Husband at noon – he and the family had had a bit of a party in Harare the previous night, although he’d still manage to visit his best friend Gerrie Jooste early on Christmas morning! Husband had to speak to his in-laws (aka the OUTLAWS!), BIL, SIL, nieces, Bridget, Tony, Shelly, her husband and me! He had an excellent lunch in Harare prepared by his sister Heather, who is a great cook. We had a great meal too – toasting ourselves, absent friends and saying a prayer for Zimbabwe and those who were far from their loved ones on Christmas Day. Our lunch was excellent, filled with lots of laughter and camaraderie. For me it emphasised the true meaning of Christmas, and the pictures speak for themselves.
Invalid Photo #1007066 
That evening the elderly folks went home, and a few of us stayed behind – I was one of the guilty ones! The rest: Bryan, Cindy, Chantelle and her husband Grant, Grant’s partner Colin and his wife Cheryl. We played some rather interesting games… I forget the name of the first one but it’s played with 6 different coloured sets of five dice, and team throw their dice on the table and try to predict how many of a certain number are on the table. So if Cindy and I said “three 4s” then Cheryl and Colin would say “four 4s” or “four sixes”… eventually a team will say “BULLSHIT” and the numbers are checked, with a forfeit of one dice and a tot of gin/vodka/whisky/brandy/tequila for the losing team. Sounds confusing? Well, it wasn’t at the time.
The evening ended with a very cruel card game that Grant learned from safari clients on a houseboat. It’s called “Mr President”, and we had to draw cards to establish the pecking order. Bryan was the president, and the rest of us were assigned our position in descending order. Cheryl was VP, Cindy was Minister of finance and I can’t remember the tree above Grant and I. Naturally we were at the end of the food chain, with an extremely derogatory name that refers to a specific part of the human anatomy. Grant was that part, while my name was further shamed with the prefix “SUPER”. What followed was a stupid, but potentially relationship-damaging game whereby anyone of a lower position who upset or annoyed those of a higher status paid a forfeit. And it was cruel. If someone didn’t smile brightly enough at the VP she could inform the President, who would instruct the offender to pay a penalty… fixing a drink, doing press ups (try doing that after ten hours of drinking!) or singing a song were some of the punishments meted out. Cindy tried to spike Colin’s drink, and when he tasted it he complained to Bryan, who ordered Cindy to drink the entire thing in two minutes. I’m horrified to admit we were drinking gin and Fanta that night… thank heavens for Codis headache tablets!
One forfeit poor Grant was given was to climb into the jacuzzi in his underwear, and put his head under water. Grant was happy to comply, until he realised that the children had spent all day in there. The jacuzzi smelled a bit nasty, and when Bryan saw the colour of the water he relented, and Grant didn’t have to submerge his head… he’s a brave boy! Would you have got into this Jacuzzi???
Bryan took me home at 2 am, and I handed Codis tablets to Grant and Chantelle. I only had three on me, and figured I would need one! The following morning Chantelle greeted me ecstatically, waxing lyrical about the marvels of Codis. Cindy was less impressed – I’d given her a plain Paracetamol which had not stayed down…
We spent Boxing Day at the Matopos. It’s a beautiful part of Zimbabwe, a place of great superstition for African people as well as being the place where the man who named Rhodesia – Cecil John Rhodes – is buried. With its huge granite hills and unbelievable vegetation it’s a special place, and one I shall leave with some pictures. They describe the day so much better than I ever could.
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