Distinguished ladies and gentlemen, all protocol observed. As I write this, there are more goats on the highways to Accra than there are human beings. Tipper trucks, 207 buses, pickups and ambitious motorbikes are all literally bleating! The cows are snickering, insha Allahu Ramadan is a year away. The chickens are fully aware of the genocide ahead. The cockerels are working the hens like Russian immigrants…this earth won’t be their home for long and they know it. The adolescent cocks smile at their lean thighs and bony backs; the reasons why they never won a fight are the same ones that will now increase their life expectancy.
The pigs are not sure how to react. Ghanaians have become too fond of ‘Pork Show’ joints and business class domedo hang outs. They had more hope when the Muslims were celebrating…Christians don’t hear. You know, there’s no question about the fact that Christmas is about the birth of the Messiah, but it also reminds me of my best childhood days. Christmas is when all the joys and luxuries missed out on during the year are compensated for with jollof rice, full boiled eggs, minerals, chips and Piccadilly biscuits.
Like, no matter how hard things have been throughout the year, the most troubled mason still gathers enough to be celebrated in his village when he returns to spend the holidays. It is completely unacceptable for Christmas to be enjoyed with the same hardship that economic and forex mood swings plunged us all in during the year.
I don’t know if you noticed it too, but Christmas came so much earlier this year. It came with the first whiffs of harmattan and lingered way before the radio stations started playing carols. That Christmasy feeling has this magical way of making it all feel okay. It forces you to realize that you actually have made it to the end of another year. It all seems to have come so quickly, but still too late for those we laughed with before but are no more.
It’s not been a jolly ride, not even for those with the longest testimony list…but alas, here we are, you and I. We see, we breathe, we piss, we live, we have hope. It is something. 2015 has given everyone all kinds of memories, but it has been the bus we have all ridden in to this point. 2016 is like a shore in the near distance. Our feet will touch it’s sand and we will all have a chance to make something of it. In anticipation of that, let’s not cease being grateful.
Gratitude and joy are sometimes felt more by a family of 5 eating from one bowl in a shanty apartment than by the business executive with his second wife sitting across polished mahogany dinner tables in hollow mansions.
Be grateful, be happy this Christmas and give. Give thanks, give smiles, give indelible experiences, give beautiful memories, give gifts to those you love. Be the reason someone’ll remember Christmas of 2015 miss it. If there’s a man in your life, well I just so happen to have a great gift idea! It’s the kind of thing that will make daddy, pastor, boss and hubby feel fuzzy and tingly all over. Flip through the slideshow and see.
Okay now that I’m done mixing business with pleasure I must tell you that personally, one of my biggest points of gratitude this year is you. Seriously, I’m not rubbishing you kraa. The threat of your disappointment has subconsciously cultivated in me a kind of discipline that’s helped in so many areas of life. Your incessant kind words and blessings have manifested in more ways than I can tell. So God bless you and spoil you with testimonies and prosperity. May He pimp you like we was going to show you off at a party. May He keep you around long enough to enjoy many Christmases and may it always get better. Amen, and thank you.
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