One thing I will always thank God and my mother for is the wonderful childhood she gave me. I have a lot of wonderful memories of Christmas, each year it was celebrated. My mother made sure the holidays and our birthdays were always special. I will share with you a few of my favorites.
The Christmas we hosted at our home and invited all family members. I remember my aunt was around, she had come back to Uganda for the holiday. My stubborn uncle traveled from the village just to spend that day with us. Everyone brought something which made cooking less tedious. Food was laid out at the front porch. Music playing in the background. We drank, ate and danced till late.
Another good memory was the one my aunt hosted. My dear aunt Pamela (may her soul rest in peace). She was a vibe, she had this electric energy, it was contagious. It was always a happy time around her. There is always that crazy aunty in the family. There was a lot of dancing that day, gift sharing, she was such a giver. If you spent the day with her, you would never leave empty handed.
My memory of Christmas will always be that there was family, warm company. For some reason, everyone is nice during the festive season. And it is always hot in Uganda, the best time to also go to town because the streets are empty. Oh, I almost forgot to share my Christmas experience in the village. I travelled to the village a little earlier than most that holiday. Most of my peers arrived a day before and two days before Christmas. I was in my teens by then. It was one of my best memories too.
We did not have much by then, no village home, no private means of transport. We stayed at one of our relatives home and her children were friendly. They made sure I was okay, they took me around the village. I also had my first taste of local brew that day. We were literally walking in the dark with no light and I wondered how they do this everyday with such ease. I kept tripping and I had to walk fast or they would leave me behind.
That night after supper, we were seated on the mat outside. My aunt starts telling all these creepy stories of what happens on the rocks. Those witchcraft stories, I was so captivated that I did not realize that everyone had left and I was the only one still seated there listening. I had no idea that this was a tradition and they had heard those stories time and time again.
I do not think I have any embarrassing memories of Christmas. I have tried my best to think of one Ideh, and I came up with nothing.
THE EMOTIONAL GURU 
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