Here we go again, that magical, familiar time of the year when families and communities slow down, gather and celebrate Christmas. As I reflect on my youthful experiences and contrast them with today’s world of modernity, digitalisation and changing lifestyles, one thing remains clear: Christmas has survived the test of time. It continues to pull families and communities together in a way that nothing else quite does in South Africa.
Thinking back to my childhood, Christmas was a season of great expectation and excitement. You could sense its arrival long before the day itself. Homes were repainted, decorated, and cleaned with intention.
Special groceries appeared — Bakers Choice Assorted biscuits, Oros orange squash, Tastic rice, jelly and custard. The jelly was a marvel of its own: Made without a fridge, mixed and placed on the floor overnight, only to be magically set the next morning. And the custard?
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Lovingly cooked over the fire, thick and fragrant, unlike the convenient Ultramel of today. The aroma of Christmas morning with meats sizzling, sweet scents carrying through the air, is something words can barely capture. And, of course, the excitement of new Christmas clothes.
Our parents made sure we had them, and we could not wait to parade them proudly to neighbours and friends. Looking good was part of honouring the day; Christmas demanded cleanliness and self-respect. Although my immediate family members were not migrant labourers, they worked in nearby towns.
But the broader tradition of migrant workers returning home added to the season’s magic. Their arrival gave birth to the well-known saying: “Lehlil’ iGoli!” — Johannesburger has returned home. This was a moment of joy, reunion, and restored family unity. Christmas was also a time of generosity, a generosity that was shown rather than spoken.
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