One thing you should know about Zimbabwe is that every thing is always, always constant. Nothing ever really changes around here. Change is so rare, in fact, that it is a celebration when there is any hint of it. Recently, a new Pick and Pay was built here (a chain supermarket from South Africa) and it was hailed on facebook with the establishment of it’s very own facebook fan page, and regularly updated pictures of it’s coming-out from the rubble. On a side note, I am actually very excited for it’s first real cinemas with real, ON TIME movies being played. How exhilarating.
As an Asian teen living in Zimbabwe, since the age of three I am practically borne of the Zimbabwean race. I’ve had my shares of ups and downs that alter my feeling towards this place, both crazy and terribly sane which I will, maybe get to, sometime on.
A trivial example is for instance, right now, 22nd of December, the day after when we were all supposedly going to die. It’s 6 in the morning, casually and quite excitedly typing up with what I thought to be an appropriate initial attempt in blogging – for who isn’t interested in other woeful tales of Christmas? I am lying in bed, all snuggly, and this FLY, just wont leave me alone. What is a fly doing in my room? I understand mosquitos but this little flying piece of nonsense wont leave me alone.
Wow, I have some serious attention span problems.
Anyway, my parents being Buddhist really don’t celebrate Christmas, which is quite unfortunate for me, being a Christian and all.
This means that whilst all my other lovely, Western friends receive presents and dine on fine cuisine whilst playing something really cool, like board games, I get to sit at home whilst my parents abandon me to go and play golf. I receive no gifts whatsoever and I am doomed to venting out all my troubles on my unfortunate diary.
This year, I wanted it to be different. I decided that I was in the spirit of giving, even though there really is no receiving. (And being the selfless person that I am, I promised myself that I was allowed to really spoil myself should I find something of my desire.)
I did all the corny things people do, searching typical things online which did ultimately mild insult my feminist views with the claims that mothers do really want spices, cooking pans and other kitchen appliances for Christmas.
It did tickle me though, when one website suggested that I buy her a yoga mat. Genial.
I had all these plans, and I was quite excited until three days ago when I first had this idea. I’ve been trying to get out of this house to go achieve these merry goals, but my family, as usual, are especially busy at Christmas, resulting in me moping around pointlessly at home. In fact, I’ve been stuck at home for the past four days, whilst my friends party at exotic countries. The only source of transport is my mom who refuses to take me anywhere after work. This is incredibly unfortunate and extremely depressing for me. I’m so short tempered, it’s crazy. Short bread.
So voila to another Christmas ordinarily, and lonely spent.