Do they know it's Christmas?

In 1984 when a certain Scot called Midge Ure and an uncertain Dubliner called Sir Bob Geldof, penned the lyrics to the song, “Do they know it’s Christmas?” I’m sure they couldn’t have imagined they were writing what would become an all time Christmas classic and, indeed, one of the largest selling singles in UK chart history.

Perhaps, as the song celebrates its 25th anniversary, it’s worth asking is the title as pertinent now as it was then? - do the people in Africa actually know it’s Christmas? From where I’m sitting (in shorts and a t-shirt) the answer is that ‘it’s Christmas Bob, but not as we know it!’

Despite all the climatic changes in the last quarter of a century, there will not be any snow in Africa again this Christmas. Nor will there be any Budweiser Clydesdales horsing around in the snow, turkey and stuffing sandwiches or wren boys; let alone mince pies, sleigh bells or Chris Rea stuck in traffic with a Christmas tree sticking out of his boot.

Speaking of trees, I’ve seen four (all artificial) since the start of December and three of those were on sale outside the Chinese shop in Maroua where you can also buy plastic flowers and other useless knick-knacks. In a continent where “nothing ever grows, no rain or rivers flow” I suppose it would be hard to find a tree at all, let alone a Christmas one with a fairy, lights and pine needles.

Still on the topic of trees, partridges in pear trees would also be hard to find. However, if you could settle for a bat in a mango tree, together with 10 leaping Lamidos and 8 maids who are good at mixing Nestle NIDO milk powder, then I think we’d have that base covered.

The Père Noël base is not however. The closest you’d get to a big fat jolly man in a red suit would be if you took a gendarme (generally the roundest people here as they spend their time sitting on the roadside collecting bribes), dressed him up in a bootlegged Liverpool tracksuit and sat him astride a horse and cart. You could then fill the cart with Nigerian sweets and bottles of Top Pamplemousse and send him to work in a grotto of dried grass positioned in the market between the butcher and the tomato woman. Ho-ho-ho!

In terms of Christmas shopping, lots of improvisation is required. If you replaced a tin of Afternoon Tea with packets of broken digestives from Nigeria (all the best sugary stuff comes from Nigeria), a Gillette Men’s Toiletry Gift Set with a bar of soap and the Guinness Book of Records 2010 with a thumbed copy of The Traveller’s Good Health Guide from the VSO resource centre, then you’d manage it.

Indiana Jones, Willie Wonka or Del Boy Trotter have all yet to make their mark on Cameroonian television. The best celebrity on offer is Chantelle Biya (President Paul’s wife) who, despite looking like Tina Turner in drag (google it if you don’t believe me), manages to get herself on the small screen a lot more often than Dr. Zhivago.

As Yagoua is a predominantly Muslim town, getting your hands on a miniature crib filled with plastic figurines would be a problem (you could try the Chinese shop in Maroua though). However, seeing as the country is full of donkeys, cattle, shepherds and mangers you’d have no problem creating your own live nativity.

As the sky is clear every night, following a star would be easier than using a Garmin sat nav and you’d only have to go to Chad to get yourself a few camels. A baby Jesus would be the biggest challenge as blond haired Caucasian infants are few and far between out here.

Back in 1984 Bono and his perm-haired cohorts sang of a world of “dread and fear”, of bitter tears and “clanging chimes of doom”. From where I’m sitting (still in my shorts and t-shirt) things aren’t that bad. People do know it’s Christmas and will celebrate it as best they can underneath the burning sun.

So “Here’s to you, raise a glass to everyone”. Joyeux Noël à tous,

GC