Christmas in Flip-Flops

Christmas used to mean frosty mornings, glowing candles in the windows, the smell of cinnamon drifting from the kitchen, and bundling up in scarves to go to the Christmas market. Back in Germany, December was always about warmth against the cold, Glühwein in mittened hands, fairy lights twinkling against a dark winter sky, and the crunch of snow (or at least the wish for it) underfoot.

And every year, we all hoped for the Weiße Weihnachten - the “white Christmas” - to come. Sometimes, if we were lucky, it really happened, and the world lay under a soft sugar blanket, magical and still.

Here in Namibia, the wish is different. Now we hope for rain. When it fi nally arrives, it brings that fresh, earthy smell and the promise of something new, green grass sprouting, leaves unfolding, animals fi nding Food again, and babies growing strong. Rain here is more than weather; it’s a sign of hope and of the future itself. And of course, there were the Christmas cookies. I used to bake tray after tray, fi lling the house with the scent of sugar, oranges, cinnamon, and cloves. Here in Namibia, I was determined to carry on this tradition, only to Discover that my dough quite literally melted away in the summer heat! I quickly learned that if I want to bake cookies here, I must start very early in the morning, when it’s still a little

cooler, before the sun turns my kitchen into a sauna.

Our Christmas meal isn’t goose with dumplings, it’s more likely a braai under the acacia trees, with Family and friends gathering around the fi re. There’s no need for mulled wine; a chilled glass of South African rosé or a gin and tonic with ice cubes will do just fine. And then there’s the tree. In Germany, it was Always green and fragrant, carrying the scent of the forest indoors.

Now, my Namibian tree is a Weißdorn, naked, essentially just wood. In Namibia, people often use so-called Trockenbäume instead of fi rs: branches or trunks of thorn and acacia trees like Weißdorn or Schwarzdorn, decorated lovingly as Christmas trees. Once adorned with Kugeln and lights, even these dry desert trees radiate festive spirit.

These days, everything of mine is plastic, because my cats simply love to play with the glittery baubles—as if Christmas were designed just for them. I used to think Christmas needed snow to feel magical.

Now I know it’s not the snow at all, it’s the togetherness. It’s laughter around the fi re, it’s the stories shared, it’s the quiet gratitude for the people and the place that make life

feel full.

So yes, Christmas in flip-flops might not look like the postcards, but for me it’s become its own kind of wonder. A reminder that traditions can travel, bend, and reshape themselves, and still carry the same joy, whether under snowy rooftops in Germany or beneath the endless blue skies of Namibia.

With festive warmth from the desert, Sandra.

deardiary@myeishanamibia.com

Until next time,

From Sandra’s pen, Namibia