Digital Underground - uXu - Underground eXperts United #uxu-591

### ### ### ### ### #### ### ### ### #### ### ### ##### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ##### ### ### ########## ### ### ########## ### ### ### ### Underground eXperts United Presents... ####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### #### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## #### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### ###### [ The Spirit of Wigilia ] [ By Simon Moleke-Njie ] ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ THE SPIRIT OF WIGILIA by Simon Mol In my Fatherland of Cameroon, the countdown to Christmas is not different from that of other parts of the Christian world and Poland; cleaning, decorating, renovating and frantic last-minute shopping are done with such vigour as inspired by December alone. Shopping however harbours a slight difference; at this period no gift is valued more than a piece of new dress, thereby elevating fashion to a major spectacle. A child has no greater pleasure than to show his/her new dress to mates. Women have no better subject of discussion than 'clothing', with such passion that competition and comparison determine a family's state of harmony. Man, who by African traditional and religious rights is the family head, comes under a severe trial as his pride is put to test. His victory is to see his family elegantly dressed on Christmas day as they go about visiting others... then he can beat his chest and boast to his friends. This is the only compromise that guarantees peace. The consequences of failure to meet this end might come with such irreparable damages as divorce in extreme cases. This is no joke. On Christmas day proper, each family prepares sizeable quantities of food as friends and neighbours from far and near, come without warning or invitation. They must be fed and given to drink in the spirit of Christmas. Pagans too are fully involved in the 'free for all' Christmas party thereby making Christ's birthday a veritable period of reconciliation and spiritual reunion. It is a norm for guests to come with stems of flowers, which they hang outside the door frame; this is often the only present they bring along, yet they come to take from the host... and the number of stems on a door frame determines the number of visitors a family had during Christmas day. It is not a problem with anybody as when the host goes visiting too, nothing more is expected of him/her than a stem of flower. Poor me! When I had a phone call from a Polish gentleman Mr. Pavelski inviting me to spend 'Wigilia' with his family on Christmas eve, I thought I was in Africa and went without any present... worst of all, without even a stem of flower! I was completely blind to 'The spirit of Wigilia' that reigns in Poland! I had never known my host before. I had been told by an intermediary that he had read about me in the papers and wanted to meet me. It was a surprise invitation for me, and I was hoping that the climax of the surprise would be to meet him and his family... Poor me! Little did I know that there was more in store for me! A friend of his drove me to his flat, which is situated a few kilometres from the centre of Warsaw. On our way we both drank in the splendour of crystal whiteness brought by the snow, which was late in coming. "I pray that it would snow during Christmas!", the receptionist at the Warsaw 'House of Literature' (Dom Literatury) had pleaded to me a week earlier as I made for the office of Polish PEN. She had pleaded with such passion as if I could do anything about the snow draught. She wasn't the only one with such prayers as Christmas was fast approaching with no sign of snow. Everyone prayed for Father Christmas as it appeared that he was in for a touch time! Then a few days to the D-day, the suspense reached a happy climax as Varsovians got up one morning to find everywhere covered with the 'breath of Angels'. As we drove to Mr. Pavelski's, we were talking about it... we were still talking about it as we climbed his stairs to be welcomed by him with a broad smile on his face as he opened the door. We shook hands as if we had known each other all our lives. I was introduced to his family; his mother, very motherly and caring, his charming wife who wore a smile all evening thereby easing the tension of first-meeting embarrassment with such flare as possessed by a dutiful wife alone, and his beautiful five-year old daughter Zofia who carried a long chestnut hair. She was at the centre of attraction all evening. My experience of the day was the fact that all barriers erected by 'a first-time meeting embarrassment' melted under the warmth of real family harmony. Immediately after, I found myself with Zofia at a corner talking like long-time friends. She brought her magic toy TV and started sketching maps of country after country. She harboured a passion for the US and Australia that came up frequently than any other country. Her parents were busy putting final touches to the evening's event, which was to be crowned with the arrival of two august guests; a couple from Geneva. Their arrival was to be the climax of the 'Wigilia'. Two giant Christmas trees stood in the dinning room, one was decorated in blue lights and the other in red. Their peripheries were littered with packages of beautifully wrapped presents. Between them were four logs of pine with ten candles stuck on them - five were black coloured with gold particles, three were in little cups, a green one was in the middle and 'a father Christmas- shaped' one stood by. As the host's wife set them alight, little Zofia in a state of blissful excitement blew them all out amid shots of laughter. With motherly patience her mother re-lighted them. Zofia repeated her blowing-out act with laughter and jumps. She insisted that it was her birthday. Grandma told her it wasn't hers but that of the baby Jesus. She said no way. After a heated debate with her father, they came to a compromise before she would let go. We were joined by another friend. Everything was in place; the table was set, our hosts had dressed up, it was time for the show to begin, still... the august guests were yet to come. They were already a little behind schedule and suspense was mounting. We all stood up anxiously... waiting, some stood by the door, hoping for the bell to ring to signal their arrival, still nothing. Suspense soon reached the pitch of a patience-consuming crescendo with Zofia shouting "where are the guests! where are the guests!" It was almost ten minutes to the top of the hour. A consensus was reached to wait till the top of the hour and if they didn't show up, (which would mean that they probably wouldn't at all), then the Wigilia would be set on course If it had been this way things would have boiled down to an anticlimax and probably, an emotional tragedy. I wonder how we would have felt and what kind of air would have reigned for the rest of the evening. Certainly the 'Spirit of Wigilia' would have been absent. It was seven minutes to the dead-line, everyone was pacing up and down restlessly as minutes died down to seconds... Then at exactly five minutes to the dead-line, grandma who was standing by the window, pulled back the blind and started with a shout: "look everybody! There they are!" She had smelled them metres away! Everyone heaved a sigh of relief and ran to the door. A charming lady walked in, bringing with her a tide of smile and happiness as well as her husband - a charismatic gentleman whose hair was as white as Father Christmas. She is Polish, her husband is Swiss. They were with a beautiful maiden. Without any waste of time, we crowded on the table after the initial introductions and the feast started. Wine went round, grandma had a special announcement for each of her repast before it was served. I learnt that during 'Wigilia' meat isn't eaten... a sharp contrast with the norm in my native land where everyone, especially children, would be seen clutching, biting and tearing lumps of meat. As the evening progressed I perceived the Swiss gentleman. It dawned on me that he was very fond of kids from what transpired between him and little Zofia. He maintained an authoritative silence that attracted admiration - talking only when necessary. At one point we exchanged view points on global politics with myself at the listening end as I saw that he was schooled to the rhythm of global politics. He has a glamorous disposition, with a body language quite identical to that of the famous American comedian - Bill Cosby, which he used to entertain little Zofia and everyone enjoyed it. We were entertained to a variety of fish dishes, deliciously and Polishly prepared... a mistake on the part of my hosts as they didn't know that I harbour a passion for fish. I was particularly merciless with the bones, which I crushed to minute particles, as back home we believe that in them lies the real flavour. Little Zofia went round offering from her 'Baby Christmas basket' a rare, tasteful fruit from Vietnam. Then came the climax of the evening... the distribution of presents. I was restless all the while, as I hadn't brought anything to put under the Christmas tree. Our host proceeded with calling of names, which were written and stuck on each packet. Each call was greeted by shouts of gratitude from happy recipients. Heart beats accelerated as recipients unwrapped their gifts to see their presents. By the time the show ran out 'Simon' had been repeated five times and I left with a bag full of presents! I was enraptured by the generosity of my hosts; I returned with a diary for the coming year, a silver pen of high scholarly standard encased in a magnificent blue box and worthy of signing a peace and reconciliation treaty, a poetry pamphlet of Polish poet Czesaw Miosz, a CD of Polish Christmas carols, a key holder and an umbrella. The joy generated by the session of gift-distribution opened the final phase of the evening - charting and chanting with plenty of fine wine; there was plenty of tasteful soup, wine and vodka. There was singing too, and I was taught a popular Polish Christmas hymn, 'Lulaje'. My host wrote the lyrics in my new diary and I had no problem singing with everyone else. Zofia's voice rose in thunderous frequency. In the height of the feast the host brought out a twenty-centimetre long bottle, written on it was: 'wedding wine of Jerusalem', "I have kept this for three years!" he announced. It was passed around. The red coloured stuff apparently severed the last chord of cross-cultural barriers as I was asked to sing a carol in my mother tongue. After a few sips of 'wedding wine of Jerusalem', there wasn't a better time to sing 'Di ma longo Jerusalem', (we are singing Jerusalem). It took next to nothing for guests and hosts to memories the lyrics and join me in singing. This was how 'Wigilia' presented a unique opportunity for cross-cultural exchange. It was early morning - past midnight and the baby Jesus had already been born. As we made to leave each guest was presented with a long, dried stem of rose coated with gold. I made for the snow covered street asking myself what I had done to deserve such an experience. It stood still in these words... I ... the fourth unwise pilgrim behind the three wise men that followed the star to Bethlehem hereby confess my presence; ... I went with nothing. But, returned with a pen, and paper to write this for you. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- uXu #591 Underground eXperts United 2001 uXu #591 Send your submissions to: submission@uxu.org ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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