December 25th
I arrive in the Quarter before the sun debuts. I walk uphill through the Quarter where the sun will soon rise. Along the way, I pass the little shack of a salon where three men are crammed in, playing cards beneath a single bulb. I pause to watch my first Christmas Day activity in the Quarter - gambling. Soon their gambling has ended. As 2 of them leave, with empty pockets, the third man says o me, “We now play gospel music.” And proceeds to blare music from an ancient speaker. He outstretches his hand to me and says, “Merry X-mas.”
A little while later, one woman, Carmella, stops and asks me,”You come here for a black Christmas instead of a white Christmas in America?” Smiling, I pause and wonder what makes Christmas white to her …
Children, dressed in their new clothes, swirl their skirts and march in their white shoes. The children of the poorest families are barefoot and wearing their finest torn clothing. They seem acutely aware that even in the slum of the Acholi Quarter they are poorer than most.
I pause inside the Pentecostal Church, listening half-heartedly to the bellowing pastors. I’m temporarily mesmerized by the sea of bright colored clothing filling the pews. I see a trio of girls in their virgin white dresses leave the church. I follow to watch them, half curious at how long their dresses will remain pure in this settlement of red dirt.
More children follow the lead of the 3 brave girls and take leave of the confines of church. They flit like butterflies showing off their new clothes and enjoying temporary freedom. It doesn’t last long. Soon an elder comes and rushes them back into the vacant pews.
As the sermon ends, friends and family gather to feast on freshly slaughtered chickens and kilos of the meat of cows. This carnivorous meal is a treat, reserved only for special occasions and holidays like Independence Day, Christmas and Easter. The meat is devoured and the bones are left bare and greasy fingers licked clean.
As for me, after enjoying sodas, gifts from many friends, I head to Ayoo Jennifer’s home where I will enjoy my Christmas feast. Since early this morning, Ayoo began the preparations. First making the traditional matooke, wrapping bananas in banana leaves and cooking for hours on an open fire. Then the slaughter of the chicken that had been tied to the iron post of her home for a week to fatten. After plucking the feathers from the neck, she expertly twisted it and with a knife severed the head. She plucked the chicken clean and roasted it briefly over a charcoal fire. Then she used all her might to rip the chicken apart and carefully cut it into pieces - the claws, the thighs, the neck, innards which I could not readily identify. With great detail, she explained each slice of the knife. When she held the chickens stomach in her hands, she turned it inside out and spilled out a belly full of undigested grains. I nearly puked. The children howled with laughter.
Later that afternoon, I shared the mountain of food Ayoo Jennifer had prepared with Mama Oyet (Esther), Ocan Night and Adoch Jennifer. At the end, I was every bit as full and satisfied as I would have been dining with my own family on Christmas Day.
I went to bed smiling, thinking about how generous people are in the Quarter and how they have welcomed me and embraced me just as they would their own tribe.
