Reflections on Christmas in Madagascar

Last December, we drove for more than two hours to the Christmas tree farm in Oregon, Illinois. We trudged through the snow and dug through the flakes to find the trunk of our “real” chosen tree so that we could chop it down. We drank hot chocolate by the fire before venturing out into the blizzard. We tied the tree to the roof of our car with gloved-hands before driving or rather sliding through blizzard-like conditions back to our home. We decorated the tree with the decorations we have collected in two years of marriage and hung our store-bought stockings in the living room.

This year, Christmas looks a little different. We haggled for our fake, three-foot tall Christmas tree in the famous Analakely market here in Tana. We even bargained for our decorations. I think we may have spent a grand total of $3. Instead of a winter storm, we wove our way, carrying our tree through crowds of sellers and buyers, often walking down the middle of the street, to find our way back to the taxi-be stop. We squeezed into the bus, and Daniel tucked the tree in the seat beside him. Good thing fake trees don’t lose needles! By the time we arrived home, we were dripping with sweat, and not just from exertion. The sun is incredibly hot here! Later, I sewed two red stockings to “hang” (you can’t pound nails in cement!) by our fireplace. They don’t sell stockings here. I never realized stockings are an American tradition. Apparently so are candy canes. Chocolate escargot is preferred by the French (that is, based on the imports we see in the grocery store).

This week we went to the post office in town to collect our Christmas packages from America. We spent more than two hours traveling to the city (it’s only 8 miles away!) and tested our knowledge of the bus system. We waited for buses at three different bus stops before finally catching one that took us about half-way. At this time of year, most of the buses just stop running all the way into town as there is so much traffic. Judging by the crowds, they can probably make just as much money only running half of their usual route. Eventually we got a bus to take us into town where we joined the throngs of people doing their Christmas shopping. I thought Christmas shopping in America was crazy! Add the sweltering heat, haggling in a foreign tongue, pickpockets galore, sellers everywhere you try to step, dirty streets, and complete disorganization; then you’ve caught a glimpse of shopping in Antananarivo.

Did I mention I had to go to two post offices to collect our packages? I walked down the main street (dodging potential pickpockets and the innumerable vanilla sellers that just don’t understand that I live here and already have plenty!) and climbed the steep stairs that are filled with child musicians, beggars, rubber stamp makers (stamps are extremely important in this country!), and that’s not to mention all the sellers of nearly everything imaginable and then some! At the “upper” post office, I had to present slips of paper to the postal worker and sign a book so that I could receive the necessary slips of paper to collect my packages from the “lower” post office. You guessed it! This means a trip back down the steep stone stairs through the hordes of people yelling, “Madame! Madame! Vanille! Vanille!” on the main street. After turning the corner, I wove my way through the most crowded street I’ve ever seen! The sidewalk is full of wares for sale and children playing and sleeping. Meanwhile, the street is almost always congested with traffic. That leaves a narrow pathway between parked cars and slightly moving cars to make one’s way to the post office.

At the “lower” post office, the procedure is very Malagasy. First, you present your slips to the postal worker in the middle who directs you to either end or both depending on what your little slip of paper tells him (it’s in French so doesn’t tell me much!). Sometimes he also has you sign his book; I’m not sure why. This time I got to go to both ends which resulted in language practice with all of the postal workers! One man received my slip then handed it to the woman next to him who collected my money (yes, we have to pay a small tax) while he made up the receipt. Then another woman went to fetch my package. I took the package back to the first man and explained that I would like to first collect my other package at the other end before returning to have them examined. He agreed so I went to the other end of the post office where I gave them the second slip of paper. They also had me sign in their book. Then I paid the cashier and received my package. Then I returned to the first man, who happens to be my favorite. He always asks me, “Inona ity?” or “What is this?” My answer is always the same: candy, food, books in English, papers in English, etc. Really, I only vary slightly depending on what is actually in the package. He really gets a kick out of my saying “in the English language” so many times so has started completing my sentences for me. He also likes to say, “From America!” with a big smile! He’s never given me a hard time about anything yet so I think he’s just curious to know what it is that we foreigners receive all the way from our home countries. He probably thinks we eat a lot of candy, too.

After collecting our packages, I met up with Daniel who had just finished his shopping. We returned to the bus stop at a little before 2 in the afternoon (very early) but there were no buses to be found. After watching people fight their way onto the first buses that arrived, literally jumping in through the windows and shoving each other out of the way, we became a little concerned but decided we’d just have to make a run for it. So the next bus that arrived, we ran up beside it, Daniel pushing me in front of him and me stretching out my arms to block the way of those who might try to slip by. We clambered into the back seat, laughing about the advantage of having much longer appendages than the average Malagasy.

So that’s just a little story of what it’s like to live in Madagascar at Christmastime. What I don’t understand is why the Malagasy are so crazy about shopping! Only the children receive gifts for Christmas, usually just a little candy. The adults give gifts on New Year’s Day which is when they have their family gatherings. Christmas is the day they attend church (mostly because it’s tradition and a chance to get all dressed up) and many of the children go to a Christmas party following the service. But there isn’t nearly the material hubbub that we have in America. For instance, a common Christmas gift is a live chicken because for most families it’s a treat to be able to eat chicken. Christmas doesn’t start in October here either. Rumor has it, gifts and decorations will continue to arrive through January, as they are a little behind and it takes a while to import things to this island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. In a lot of ways, it’s nice to see Christmas being a day celebrated in church though we definitely miss the American tradition of family togetherness. The question is not whether or not Jesus is remembered at this time of year but how? How many Malagasy truly understand the Gospel? Do they see Jesus as a traditional story or as a living Savior who came to earth to save us from our sins? Let’s pray that more hearts will be opened to the Savior.