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Christmas never disappeared; people simply drifted away from it. Today, you hear many saying that Christmas is no longer exciting. Some claim they only enjoyed it because they were young, others say responsibilities have grown, and life has become heavier. Their explanations are endless, but none of them touch the real truth. Nothing about Christmas has changed. What changed is us. The values that once held generations together slowly faded, and the transition from our ancestors to our grandparents and finally to us was never completed. How can a celebration honored for centuries suddenly lose meaning? It didn’t. We lost the meaning along the way. As an old saying goes, “A tradition dies the day its keepers grow tired.”
Long ago, people created Christmas through their actions, their preparation, and the joy they invested in it. In some places, like Europe, they still hold onto these traditions. Families travel across cities and countries to be together, exchanging gifts, sharing meals, and keeping alive the rituals that make Christmas feel alive. But when I think about Africa, especially Uganda, the story takes a different turn. Our forefathers began preparing for Christmas as early as mid-November. Villages met to discuss how they would buy a bull or a heifer for slaughtering on the 23rd. Women traded millet and other crops to make sure every home had what it needed. These preparations were not separate from Christmas; they were Christmas. They stirred excitement, brought unity, and built memories that carried the season’s joy into the future. It was said in those days, “When people plan together, they celebrate twice—first in preparation, then in the feast.”
During those days, Christmas Eve meant gathering around food, laughter, and the warmth of community. Families told stories that shaped morals, guided the young, and prepared future leaders. Christmas was not simply a holiday; it was a moment for reflection, for reviewing the year and planning for the next. People met partners through church services, community events, or village gatherings. Families visited each other, and children learned who their uncles, aunties, cousins, and in-laws were. Christmas served as a bridge, linking generations and strengthening the roots of identity. Elders often reminded the youth, “A person who forgets where they come from will never know where they are going.” And through these gatherings, values were planted like seeds that grew into the strength of entire communities.
But slowly, things changed. Education separated people into invisible classes. Some of those who studied further feared being misunderstood by those who didn’t, and distance grew where unity once lived. Humility began to shrink, and Ubuntu weakened. Competition for wealth carved cracks within families, pushing some into towns to hide behind work and success while others remained behind in silence. The culture of sharing, once the heartbeat of Christmas, quietly disappeared. As one elder said bitterly, “Knowledge without humanity is a cold fire.” And cold fires cannot warm Christmas.
Now Christmas lives on phones and social media. People travel, not to visit relatives, but to avoid them. What used to be a season of reconnecting has become a time of hiding. Children no longer know their lineage. Many grow up without ever meeting their extended family. And in the confusion of life in towns, schools, and workplaces, some even end up marrying those they might have been related to, simply because the old meeting spaces no longer exist. Christmas once mended broken families and healed wounded communities, but now everyone lives behind closed doors, eating alone, celebrating alone, and drifting further from one another. As a Luganda proverb says, “Omuntu mulala si mulala”, another person is not a stranger; they are part of you. But that truth has grown faint.
Yet the truth remains: Christmas never vanished. It is waiting in the spaces we abandoned, in the shared meals, the storytelling, the simple visits, and the values our ancestors held with both hands. Christmas used to be a reminder that people belonged to one another, that families stayed strong when they stayed connected, and that joy was something communities created together, not something bought in shops or posted online. “The table that brings people together is stronger than the wall that separates them,” the elders used to say. And they were right.
If we want Christmas to feel alive again, we must return to the values that gave it breath. We must show up, share, reconnect, and rebuild what was lost. Because the spirit of Christmas has always lived in people, and it will return when we do. And maybe one day, we shall remember another truth our ancestors held dearly: “Those who eat together stay together, and those who stay together never lose their seasons.”