World Culture 101: Holidays

This week I have the pleasure of getting paid to manage the selection and decoration of a Christmas tree for my office. Not because my boss is overcome with holiday spirit but because some clients from China are visiting next week and apparently they get a kick out of seeing our traditions in action. This made the culture-junkie in me so happy. It’s been a long time since I’ve had money traveled abroad and I kinda forgot that there's stuff we Americans do that is totally weird to other parts of the world. Like chop down 8’ tall trees, prop them up in our living rooms and place cookies under them for the imaginary man who breaks into every Christian household on the 24th. 

This makes me nostalgic for my time in the Peace Corps and the inherent comedy of holiday discussions. On Halloween, two volunteers and I explained to our neighbor that, for Americans, it's a day devoted to spirits and mischief and that everyone dresses up in costumes and children go door to door at night to collect candy from the adults. “We have this in Morocco!” he beamed. “The men kill goats, dress in their skins and throw water on the children!” We blinked at him. Chickens clucked in the distance. "Riiiight." I said. "And when exactly is that holiday?" Because that sounds utterly traumatic and I want to make sure I stay home.

Then there was the time I told a neighbor that I would be out of town to meet up with other volunteers for Superbowl Sunday. "Sunday is holy in America, yes? Superbowl Sunday is a religious day?" I couldn't argue with that. "Yes" I told him. "A very important religious day."

The ultimate holiday conversation, though, – one that is still a hit with my family and friends nearly fourteen years later – revolved around Easter. It was my first experience with Aid el Kebir, the most sacred of Muslim holidays, which is marked by slaughtering a sheep and feasting around the clock on every (every) part of the body. Islam runs on a lunar calendar and it happened that that year the Aid fell in early April. After the slaughter ceremony, as I sat on the floor choking down sheep's stomach with my Moroccan family, it dawned on me that Easter was being celebrated back in the States. My language skills were limited at the time but I had studied holiday vocabulary in preparation for the Aid so I thought explaining Easter could be fun way to practice. I cleared my throat and everyone looked at me. I was shy about talking and rarely initiated conversation so their interest was piqued.

“So... um, in America, we have a holiday right now, too...“ 

“Religious?” the father interrupted.

I nodded emphatically. “Yes, yes! Religious.“ Murmurs of approval all around. “Um, to celebrate… we, er…” 

“You kill a sheep!” a cousin submitted. This, too, was met with happy support.

“Well, no.” I stammered. “We have, um... there’s, er…” I fumbled for a stick and drew in the dirt. “What’s this?” I asked my friend Fatima.

“A rabbit.” she answered, supplying the Berber word. Her face lit up with comprehension. “The Americans kill a rabbit!” she exclaimed. Thunderous praise.

“That pleases God!” preached an uncle and everyone clucked in agreement. 

I kneaded my temples and cursed myself for starting this conversation. Why didn't I just say, "Christians celebrate Jesus dying and then coming alive again and living forever. We wear nice clothes and eat a special dinner"? What possessed me to try to articulate secular mythology with a vocabulary of present tense verbs, local fruits and vegetables and numbers 1-100?

"We don't kill the rabbit." I sputtered. "The rabbit... it’s not alive, it's - what's the word? - it's, um, in our heads and parents put candy in baskets for the children but they tell the children that the candy is from the rabbit.”

As I was talking I knew it sounded asinine but I didn't have the language skills to salvage any of it so I just punished my ignorant mouth with a fistful of sheep's stomach and vowed to never again say anything other than, "It's hot outside!" and "This couscous is delicious." Fatima patted my hand. 

“I understand." she reassured me. "You give gifts to the children but you lie and say the presents are from a rabbit.” 

The uncle shook his head sadly. “They shouldn’t lie on a holy day.” 

“It's hot outside.” I mumbled.

Now that I’m older and understand that these “teachable moments” are completely forgettable, I realize I should have rolled with the rabbit slaughter, enjoyed the applause and washed down the lies with some sweet mint tea but I was 22 and life was very serious and important so I marched ahead with my culture lesson. I'm much older and slightly wiser now so my current position is that holidays are about humility, not humiliation. This means that when our Chinese clients come to town on Monday I will do my best to share Christmas with them but if a special-needs reindeer's redemption story gets lost in translation I will not think twice about steering the conversation to Katy Perry and In N Out.