Bah Humbugs, Gingerbread Men and Mistletoes

Today is Christmas Day and I'm happy to report that I'm here with my relatives in Jamaica celebrating a highly reggae-fied holiday (yes, I keep making up new words! Stay with me here!). So you must be wondering what's the purpose of the title. Well, Jamaican Christmases have a different flavour... literally! The way we celebrate is different, the pot roast beef is different, the roast chicken is different, the egg nog is different... you get the point. 
Growing up, Christmas for me was never about a jolly, fat guy breaking into people's homes to spread good cheer, or stalking you to check if you've been naughty or nice (creepy! We had our mom to do that!). Instead, it was a holy time of togetherness, food, family and food (note that I said food twice). We were never a wealthy family, but my mother always made sure we decorated our house with hand-made construction-paper letters that said "Merry Christmas" and the pepper lights on the inside windows had a new design every year. The smell of pot-roast beef and coconut-peanut cookies permeated the house and even after having a heavy breakfast, we were still just anticipating the dinner with family and friends. 

We had no conifer trees to trim with pretty fandangles (yes, it's an actual word) and we have no snow. We live almost 5000 miles from the geographic North Pole and so, Santa was furthest from our minds. But you know what? We were happy. We came together to celebrate the Yuletide season and we worked together as a family to make it happen. Never mind the gifts... we hardly ever got any; but it didn't matter. 
My Bah Humbugs come from the highly commercialized, gift grabbing, how-expensive-is-the-gift-you-got-me-compared-to-what-I-bought-you-for-Christmas, elusive Santa-guy, oops-I-forgot-to-get-my-boss-a-gift, kind of affair and it is very sad. I have become deeply saddened because of how heavily advertised the holiday is as a marketing ploy, while removing entirely the actual reason for celebrating the season. 
In the North, it's the smell of gingerbread men that come out to greet me and it makes my heart sad, as gingerbread men hold an entirely different meaning from the cookies in Jamaica. Mistletoes actually break my heart as they remind me that I am not at home. Christmas today is a remnant of what it was many years ago. But I am happy that I am now in Jamaica for the first time in years with the familiar smell of pot-roast beef, delicious Christmas cake (and whatever else we're looking after for dinner) and my family... my relatives and friends all here with me... and guess what? We have no gifts to exchange... we don't feel awkward or weird about it. We are here with each other and that is all that matters!!

So Merry Chrissmuss from Jamaica!! Bah Humbugs have been laid to rest this year as I celebrate the season surrounded by love!

Have a wonderful Christmas my readers and remember to celebrate with the reason for the season at the fore! ~JGIC

Jodi-Ann is an Environmental Studies major in Nova Scotia, Canada.