Why Christmas is not a melody of melancholy

This article is for those who enjoy the drama and excitement of Christmas. Those who turn to harum-scarum whenever the year winds up. It's for those who enjoy their calendars lying hid beneath their sofas because they don't want to see January approaching because January smells havoc, and it speaks a different language from December-language of resuming work.

If you are one of the people that scroll through their IG story during Christmas or those who don't enjoy Christmas, then this article isn't yours. By the way, the canvas tent is full, for guys like you, there's an acacia shade outside, down the looming sun, you can grab yourself a sit outside there, but isn't Christmas beautiful? At least that's what you need to know.

This month, you are more likely to enjoy something than not. You are more likely to be glued to that neighbour who always leaves his stinking shoes right next to your door. Of stinking shoes, I hear the absence of ventilation in your shoes brews the stench, that hugging them on the roof for weeks would slightly disintegrate the components of smells. You can give it a try, but don't quote me anywhere.

This month you are more likely to see a skinny old guy shouting his lungs out at the middle of the road with his corduroy trouser sagging as if being pulled intentionally by his ancestors. He will not be celebrating the impossible -Chelsea defeating Man city. After all, the only cup he likes is a cup of coffee, sometimes a mug of Uji, but football is never a cup of tea for him.

"Afadhali Chrismas kuliko kulipa loan" he'll say, his passion agitating the minds of the nearby passersby who now will be laughing hysterically.

In the same fashion, this is the month chaps will urinate in each and every boulevard. Streets and even backstreet lanes. You'll see this random homeboy glancing at the cloudless sky for minutes. The sound of his faint drizzle will capture him for a moment. It will enclose him in a bubble. An infringement. A circular housing. 

"No one is watching, and even if there is, let them know that you don't care. It's Christmas chief, do what you know best, urinate the night away."

Huh, crazy.

Then he'll be reminded to do his zip, probably with a drunkard that sat at the bar counter for hours, tossing bottles of hard liquor into his already swollen belly.

"Ningependa ufungee zip" which translates. "I'd love for you to do your zip."

They'd wish each other Merry Christmas and stagger their way home because December is not a fickle month. It's not a Melody of melancholy; it's a time to unearth your caveman manners and disintegrate your machoism.

This December, the banners are largely visible. Obvious and perceptible to the eye. They tend to communicate contagious behaviors that we shouldn't let hang on our sleeves this December. Remember visiting someone during Christmas without a packet of sugar is captured and tabled as bad behavior in the codes of Christmas. You can go and check; it's scribbled somewhere in between there.

Food is a deal-breaker this December. During this month, everyone culinary skills swell beyond the roof and jump the gun. If it's Kuku, it happens to be one that comes with a broth that makes our soft palates appreciate. It's infinitely easier to see someone lying face up like a dead cockroach after munching on some crunchy and delectable mandazis. Sweat, having sprung from his body, his breathing heavy and extended. When you see one, don't forget to wish them a Merry Christmas

Here's my final word, this festive season, let's come together and spend time with family. Don't just stare blankly at the four walls of your apartment. Merry Christmas and a prosperous new year, or should we not be in a hurry to say that.