– Christmas in Success transforms over time

I AM Vishani Ragobeer, a 21-year-old sometimes-ish Christmas enthusiast. Aside from short stints elsewhere, I have been fortunate to call the community of Success, East Coast Demerara my home and while growing up, I have been experiencing how Christmas traditions change over time.

If I squeeze my eyes shut tight enough and concentrate on a faint noise of a metal object being struck repeatedly, an endearing Success Christmas Eve tradition emerges from the part of my brain that stores memories. It is a memory of young children in the village beating a Fernleaf milk powder tin with a metal spoon, to the tune of some Christmas carols.

They walk through the streets that are filled with houses covered in ‘fairy lights’. Fortunately or unfortunately, there’s no snow but there are the occasional rain showers. And they come seeking a ‘small change’ which you stick right in the opening made on the lid of the milk powder tin. I live on the last street, so when they’re finished spreading their Christmas cheer (or noise, if you’re a distant relative of Ebenezer Scrooge), they head back home.

I would probably go inside and watch Home Alone for the 157th time while my mom fussed with Christmas cooking. Chicken, Pepperpot and burnt sponge cakes are her specialties. The minutes would turn into hours and before I realise it, I would be awakened by the burst of fireworks outside. That signalled that it was midnight- but not just any midnight; it was Christmas.

My community would then become both a kaleidoscope and a cacophony. And, the village boys compete with their fireworks and squibs, but not too much, because the real display would be on Old Year’s night. I couldn’t care less about those fireworks, though. They served their purpose of waking me up in time so that I could rip open the neatly wrapped presents under my tree. I knew it was probably going to be clothes or books, instead of the toys or the new phone I would have preferred. Santa, apparently, responded to my needs, instead of wants. But, I loved to hope, nevertheless.

The rest of the day would pass by in a blur. I would finally wake, just before lunch because the noise of the wares clanking in the kitchen becomes more profound and unavoidable. I’d eat, share goodie bags with my neighbours and maybe visit family members in the evening. If you’re wondering if I offered any help cooking, the answer is a resounding no. My help, admittedly, would involve my calamitous antics complicating the process, so it was just better to leave me out of it. Now that I think about it, maybe that’s why I can’t cook a proper meal for myself when I’m studying in Trinidad. Who knows!

Sometimes, I think: “Man, those were the days.” As I grew older, Christmas Eves were spent at the City Mall, and later, the Giftland Mall, with friends. Nowadays, they’re spent at the Guyana Chronicle’s office. By the time I get home, I’m tired and I just want my bed- though I’ll probably catch up on some Netflix (minus the “and Chill”) no matter how tired I am.

VILLAGE UNCLE

Christmas day is a welcomed day off from my work and studies. I try to engage in the holiday frolicking to appease my younger sister; her holiday cheer is infectious- until it becomes just too much. Over the past few years, a village Uncle has taken it upon himself to dress up as old Saint Nick and spread Christmas cheer (and sweeties and presents) to the younger ones in our community. But that’s to my sister’s liking, not necessarily mine.

Christmas traditions and celebrations have definitely changed for me, during my two decades here. It’s the very same, or, maybe a lot more actually for Savitri Seegobin, another Success resident, who has spent her 83 years experiencing the passage of Christmas celebrations. Ahead of the first-ever pandemic Christmas, this year, I sat with her so that she could share what Christmas in Success has been like over the years. She sat in her rocking chair, with her walking cane in hand and looked at me with a playful glint in her eyes, signalling to me that she was prepared to tell me a story and a half.

Seegobin began her story by telling me that Christmas, decades ago, was a busy and hectic affair. She spent a lot of the time in the kitchen cooking a feast, hardly delegating any kitchen responsibility to any of her children or grandchildren. The woman had to prepare enough food for the family and neighbourhood friends who would be coming to her home to have a good time on Christmas Day. “Me friends and so used to come ‘round and we used to sit down and talk old-time story. Sometimes we used to tek we lil drink, but nah me. I used to drink me lil Pepsi with them ‘cause from me small, I does don’t drink,” Seegobin recalled.

An ever topical discussion for Seegobin and her friends was just how much children “nowadays” have changed from when they were younger. Of course, each year, children “nowadays” apparently deviated more and more from the idea of obedience they grew up knowing. But even so, Seegobin loved having her children and grandchildren around, especially at Christmas time. She sat back in her rocking chair and smiled to herself, as though she was recollecting those yonder years. She even let out a small chuckle, probably remembering a fond or embarrassing memory.

REALLY NICE TIME

“All me friends them and so dead out now. Well, except for one but she deh in a wheelchair now and can’t walk like me,” she half-joked, breaking the awkward silence between us. She then posited, “Christmas long time was a really nice time man. A real nice time.” I don’t know how, but I could just tell that she was swimming through the sea of distant yesteryear memories. After another awkward silence and a half, I asked her if she could recall how she celebrated Christmas as a young girl. Of course, she could. She highlighted that her mother would purchase her Christmas gift and hang it up from the ceiling.

“When you wake up Christmas morning, you used to tek it down from up there and when you open it you might get plenty sweety or a lil dolly,” Seegobin said, continuing: “Them does seh is Christmas father bring it.” This was a departure from the well-known tradition of putting presents under the Christmas tree I knew of. Seegobin couldn’t say if this was unique to her family or if it was just one of those things done “back in the days”. What she did say, however, was that she didn’t necessarily continue her mother’s traditions with her children. Instead of presents, she gave them a “lil change” or sometimes nothing at all, because times were rough like that.

She opened up, just a bit, about how difficult it was providing for her family after her husband died years before. The women planted ‘greens’ and ‘walk and sold’ whatever she harvested on the East Coast line top. She did this for several years and said it was hard work. Nowadays though, she has more of an idyllic life. She is grateful for the health, strength, and life she has, and the good relations she has with all of her children and grandchildren. And while Christmas celebrations are not as busy as before, she emphasised, “I gon be cooking fa meself…. Well, I don’t mek the pepperpot, but I gon cook meself.” ‘Old-time things’ fade and new traditions take their place… but also, maybe, sometimes don’t ever change.