This was the morning I waited for all year. All the wishing, the listing, the dreaming, the hoping…all of it led to this morning. On any other morning it was the KA-KAW of the ibis bird flying over the Mt. Elgon plain outside my window that woke me up. On any other morning Mom demanded that we, “get up! Mama Kamau will be here in 30 minutes and you need to have your bed made before she gets here” that woke me up. Mama Kamau worked for us—washing dishes, doing laundry, sweeping and mopping floors and preparing morning tea for us. And on any other morning the expectation was that even though she worked for us, she didn’t pick up our mess. So my brothers and I were expected to be awake, dressed and have our beds made before Mama Kamau walked through the door with her cheery greeting in Kikuyu, her native language.
But on this morning, Mama Kamau stayed home. On this morning, we didn’t have to make our beds. On this morning, things were different.
I woke up before the ibis birds, and stayed in my pink Rainbow Bright pajamas given to me as hand-me-downs from my friend Patty-Leigh Davis. As soon as my eyes opened and the light from the sun that beat me awake came in through my window, I smelled it. I knew Mom was already awake because I could smell the Cinnamon Bread baking in the oven. I knew Dad was awake because I could hear his favorite hymns playing from the Maranatha! Praise cassette we gave him for his last birthday. And with those two things—the smell of cinnamon bread and the sound of hymns—I knew the day had arrived.
I hopped out of bed and wandered down the hall to my younger brothers’ room. They kept their door open so I could see that they weren’t awake yet. I snuck in. Shaking David on the shoulder, I said, “David, wake up. Do you know what day it is?!” He was younger than me, so it’s possible he still needed me to remind him. “David,” I said again, “wake up. We have to be ready when Mom and Dad say it’s time.” David slowly opened his eyes and started getting up. I moved over to Daniel, younger by 20 of the most important minutes in David’s life, and repeated my wake up charge. “We have to be ready when Mom and Dad say it’s time.”
Back in the hallway, I made my way towards the kitchen. Rounding the corner, I saw the sight I waited for all year. Mom, dressed in her blue and green Kenyan dress that flowed from her shoulders to the floor like the robes of a queen, was pulling the bread out of the oven. Dad, with his African shirt, khaki trousers, black socks and worn out sandals, was filling the tea pot with Earl Gray tea. On other mornings, Mom and Dad drank instant coffee. But on this morning, it was worth the time it took to make a real pot of Earl Gray tea. “Mom,” I said, letting her know I was there. “Is it time yet?”
“Are your brothers up?”
“Yep. David and Daniel are up. Shawn and Greg are too.”
“Okay, then, it’s time.”
I scurried down the hall to the rooms at the end of the hall. Knocking on one door I said, “Shawn, Mom said it’s time. We can go to the living room now.” Across the hall was Greg’s room. “Greg, it’s time. Mom said we can go to the living room.”
All five of us paraded into the hallway and stopped at the step that led into the living room. There they were, each one marking a part of the couch, a chair, or a corner on the floor where we would sit. Each one hand-created when we were babies and used year after year. And with a great smile, I moved towards my stocking, sat down and dumped the contents on the cushion beside me as Dad said,
“Merry Christmas, guys.”