On my mind are the fragrances that used to converge and which increased their volume of scent as Christmas approached.

They included the hunger pang-generating aroma from the cooking chapatis, and the pungent smoke odour from the paraffin jikos which were brought back to use after resting for a whole year since the last Christmas.

This thought has been provoked by the book entitled, “Song of Lawino” by Okot p’Bitek, when the speaker says:

“When the beautiful one, with whom I share my husband, returns from cooking her hair, she resembles a chicken.”

Over and above that part of sharing the husband, my mind notes the irony that the so called beautiful one is equated to a chicken. It remembers, by the way that “Irony” is a form of literally style, just like Satire, Metaphor, Simile, and Metonymy; but that’s a story for another day.

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Oh how nostalgic the moments when I remember the Christmas eve during my younger days way back yonder.

On Christmas eve, a few people would meet in the house which was furthest from the local Church at 8.00pm and sing a Christmas Carol or two, then pray and finally collect gifts for charity.

People in the homestead would stand in their doorway, smiling and would sometimes sing too.They would thereafter join the Carolers as they went to the next homestead.

Needless to say,

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