"DO THEY KNOW IT'S CHRISTMASTIME?"

I don’t think I am alone when I say: there are very few Christmas songs that I sing as loudly as I do when Band Aid’s “Do They Know It’s Christmastime?” plays on the radio. I may have also been known to shed a tear when I am singing it (I don’t think I am alone here either). But why?

I recently saw a Facebook post about this being the 35th anniversary of “Do They Know It’s Christmastime?” And I started thinking about my 1984 view of the world, versus my 2019 view of the world, and in particular, my view of Africa.

Like many of us who grew up in the 70s and 80s, my first visual and awareness of Africa came from this song: AIDS, famine, the very real and stark photographs of young children with distended stomachs. These were all very powerful images to my pre-teen, sheltered self.

Over the past 35 years, I’d like to believe I grew up a bit; matured, learned, and have a better understanding of the world. But nothing replaces an actual visit.

At the beginning of the year I made my first trip to Africa: through Ethiopia, but manly in Tanzania. I had to pinch myself a bit to remind me where I was, as my first impression of the country looked like a cross between Arizona (the dry landscape) and a Caribbean island (the infrastructure). But there was no mistaking where I was once I met the people.

So when “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” played most recently on the radio, it took me right back to January, when I saw the “world outside your window,” and saw that it’s filled with beautiful, joyful, and faith-filled people. While in Tanzania, we attended mass in Swahili at a convent in the foothills of Kilimanjaro; toured Parish houses off the beaten path in Arusha, and smaller towns rarely visited by tourists; and marveled at a way of life much different than our own, including their Christmas decorations, which are less commercial than ours.
And while Bono’s iconic line: “Well tonight thank God it’s them, instead of you!” is one of the most powerful (and most loudly sung); tonight, I am thanking God for them. For the Tanzanians. For Father David, who took us to the remote corners of his homeland (and up the mountain), for my friends who hiked, toured, sang, and prayed with me. And mostly, I am thankful for opening up my eyes and awareness to an Africa that is very different from the images I saw as an 11-year-old girl.

Krismasi Njema!