The happy season is here. We can momentariy put politics behind us. From all corners of our glorious motherland, Batswana will be going home.
To be sure, some are home already. I was in Mahalapye the other day. I could catch the smell of coffee, cooking on the open fire. The cracking laughs from excited little children. There is music everywhere. The Christmas spirit is in the air.
I love Christmas. It’s a time when RB1 is wonderful to listen to. When the best songs to listen to are African songs. When the only Western song that makes sense to me is John Denver’s “Country Road”.
I love Christmas. It is time to present to and to share with the parents and the village folks the fruits of the long year. When we extend love’s tent way beyond our kith and kin. When the ever shrinking doors of our homes swing open and remain so way into the night.
I love Christmas. It is a time to reconstruct the spirit of yesteryears. To relive, the priceless moments when we would all be home in love and unity.
It is time to reassure the long suffering parents that not all is lost. That you are as much their child now as you were in your teenage years. When you tell them that their decades long family project was not a cataclysmic failure.
I love Christmas. It is time for introspection. It time to forgive your brother, sister, parent, friend, neighbour and colleague. Calling to remembrance all the glorious times you shared. How you once played together; the battles they won for you; the smiles they put on your face.
I love Christmas. It is time to forgive your parent. To remember that they could not have brought you this far had it not been for love. To ask whether the inheritance dispute that has divided your family and estranged you from the once you once deeply loved has been worth the love and unity you lost. It will not be easy. But it must be done.
I love Christmas. It is a time when I walk to the mall and wonder through the village. When I can take stock of the village that natured me.
To see the old and the forgotten faces. When my brothers and I cross the Mahalapye River on foot to weed our parents graves. When the boys in us comes out to play football together like we used to. When I am back to my real self. Away from all the pretentions of the city.
I love Christmas. It is time to lose all selfishness. To release your spouse to their parents. YES. Let her go home. She needs the love of
I love Christmas. It is a season of high expenditure. Where the more fortunate will fete those near, those dear and those far. When we all remember the less fortunate. Remembering that whatever we do for them, we do it for him whose day we honour.
I love Christmas. It time to lay aside all that divides us as a nation. When no one talks politics. When we remember that “we are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality”. When we remember that “we are all tied in a single garment of destiny”. We are one nation.
I love Christmas, because it is my mother’s birthday. I get to remember her. How tall she stood for me and never dropped the ball. And I know you can all relate. Because nothing beats the pure love of a mother.
Yet I know. Oh, yes I do. That for some, Christmas will not be the same anymore. There are no parents to talk of. They have drifted on to eternal rest. But still, they go home. They still make a fire in the ashes. They soak in the priceless memories eternally woven into every inch of space.
I know. Oh yes, I do. That there are many who will not be going home. Some are in hospitals, fighting for their lives. Some are in prison. People no worse off than we are. They made mistakes. They fell from grace. And we buried them. May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with them.
I know. Oh, yes I know. Some will be on duty, patrolling our streets keeping us and our properties safe. Some will be patrolling our distant borders. Deprived of time with their own. The security guard, the medic, the nurse, the police officer, the soldier, the fireman and many others. May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.
I turn to a special category. To the pastor who chooses to schedule church functions on Christmas day. I have no kind words to say to you. You are selfish. That you must be told. You have mopped up all holidays in the year.
Leave Christmas to family and the relatives. Society can’t dictate where your flock goes. To the flock, your voice is the voice of God. When you speak you are obeyed as God is obeyed. Stop abusing your influence. Let them go home.
I wish you all a merry Christmas and please, drive safely.