christmastime in maun

I’m sitting in my office three days before Christmas. Everyone else is gone – and mostly long gone at that. But it’s ok, because it allows me to sing along with Frank and Dino and Sammy if I feel like it. I’m listening to Christmas with the Rat Pack, after all, since the shimmery heat and rain and careening termites outside don’t really evoke much holiday spirit for me.

For the past week or so I’ve been trying (off and on) to write some sort of profound (or at least thoughtful) holiday letter. Tomorrow I’m leaving for the Cape, the beach, the winelands – an African holiday full of things that most people probably don’t consider to be particularly African. I’m tired. I need a break. And so I’m going to the city and I’m going to see movies and eat sushi. Not terribly profound, but nice.

My traveling companions arrived here in Maun yesterday. They are my second family – my two older Zimbabwean sisters and their husbands. And they are a reminder of how fortunate I am. This might sound funny, but few of the expats I know living here seem to have black African friends. When I first described my relationship with my sis Daisy to a Canadian friend of mine living here, she said, “How did you get to have that kind of close relationship with her?” Her tone of voice suggested that she was asking about an expedition to the moon. How ever did I end up there.

But here I am. And as much as I wouldn’t mind a good old fashioned Colorado blizzard, the sun and my sis are not such a bad substitute. So, happy holidays, everybody, and sing away:

Here comes Giraffe! Here comes Giraffe! Right down Giraffe Lane!

Here Comes Santa Claus
from the Christmas Song Generator.

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