A week to Christmas and the world is already undergoing its annual transformation. (Forget WASSCE results for now).
Even here in Ghana—where “winter” is just the harmattan teasing your nostrils—the festive spirit arrives like an eager auntie who shows up too early and immediately rearranges the furniture.
Soon, homes will sparkle with decorations inside and out; tinsel will trail curtains, and front yards will sport inflatable Santas quietly sweating under the tropical sun.
Shops buzz with activity. Parents, guardians, aunties, uncles, and “special friends” navigate aisles in the familiar December dance—balancing budgets, scrutinising gifts and wondering why prices have the stubborn confidence of election promises.
Office parties take shape, and schools host spirited year-end shows, complete with lively choreography and shepherds who know every Paluta hit by heart.
And the children—oh, the children! (My nine-year-old is playing Mary, can you imagine?) Their excitement is so intense it could power a refrigerator.
They await Santa, no matter that last year his beard was barely held on by an elastic band and he smelled distinctly of FanYogo and ‘bofrot’.
Church and workplace choirs warm up with fierce determination. In December, no one takes rehearsals more seriously than a Ghanaian choir.
Sopranos reach notes that weren’t in the original score, tenors clear their throats resolutely, and the keyboardist tries half a dozen modulations every minute.
Yet beneath the glitter and hustle, something quieter unfolds. For many cultures over centuries, Christmas is a season for reflection.
Often, the cash is gone while January’s school fees loom large. Harmattan mornings invite introspection, and year-end fatigue demands a pause.
People ask themselves: Who do I need to reconnect with? Who deserves a call, a visit, or perhaps an apology? The season shifts focus—less about the day itself, more about the human need to gather, remember and renew.
Historically, Christmas gained global reach through a remarkable marketing campaign. Missionaries spread Christianity, yes—but also blended their holy day with existing winter festivals.
European traditions of feasting, singing, evergreens, gift-giving, and storytelling united under the Christmas umbrella.
By absorbing rather than replacing customs, Christmas became uniquely inclusive, able to wear many cultural faces. Then, commerce arrived.
Nature placed Christmas near reflection; business placed it at the fiscal year’s end—a genius move. December became prime time to move merchandise.
Gift traditions deepened, advertisements grew louder, and red and green became drivers of revenue. Today, no mall stroll goes by without ‘donkomi’ speakers insisting you urgently buy something special.
And still, amid jingling tills, people find ways to locate the season’s heart. Because what truly makes ‘Bronya’ memorable has little to do with shopping lists. It’s the emotional connection—bursts of joy, gratitude, and even bittersweet moments that anchor one year in memory.
The laughter around a dinner table, a reconciliation after years of silence, a small act of kindness that arrives just when it’s needed most. Humans remember feelings far longer than price tags.
Then there’s sensory magic. A song heard once a year. The scent of freshly baked cake or cinnamon wafts from the kitchen. These details lodge in memory, ready to replay decades later with stunning clarity. And novelty.
Every memorable Christmas holds a twist—a surprise guest, a new ornament, an unexpected ‘dumsor’ that gathers the family outside, laughing beneath the stars.
These breaks from routine become the stories we cherish: “The year ‘Daavi’ taught us that recipe.” “The year the car broke down, but we still made it to church.”
“The year Santa arrived on a motorbike.” Of course, tradition is the backbone.
Repeated rituals shape Christmas—attending church, calling relatives, preparing familiar dishes, hanging the usual lights.
These rituals frame each year so its small differences stand out. But perhaps the most vital ingredient is presence.
Being mentally available, not just physically there. When calls end, when work pauses, when the rush settles, moments take root.
These become the Decembers we carry long after calendars turn. Yes, Christmas is commercial, historical, cultural, spiritual, noisy, busy, sometimes overblown—and yet, powerfully human.
A season stitched from memory, meaning and shared ritual. A time when people try—sometimes clumsily, sometimes beautifully—to make space for one another.
That’s why, even a week before the big day, it’s already beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
kofi.akpabli@gmail.com
