Money, Christmas and Me: Daring to Do It Different 

This is the fourth year that my family and I haven’t gone to Shaggs for Christmas. I know... I’ve gotten enough raised brows to last me a lifetime whenever I tell this to my friends or even colleagues at work. Whenever we’re winding down for the festivities, kina Martoe will always ask, “Sasa unashuka ocha lini?” throwing in the occasional “utuletee miraa” just because I hail from Meru.

Well, life hasn’t always been like this. Both in my single life and as a newlywed, I was the kind who went all out for Christmas celebrations. If it wasn’t a trip to the coast, it was a big sherehe at home, and yours truly was the heart of everything. That means a season of mindless splurge.

Now, a decade into my beautiful marriage, with two kids and another on the way, I’ve learned so much about life and money. And this is what led to where I am today—why I no longer go home for Christmas.

Hold up…Before anyone comes at me, it’s not that I don’t miss my parents or siblings—that’s not it. I’ve just chosen to find meaning in the festivities differently.

Here is how we do it: As a family, right after school closes, we have a whole weekend get-together where our nuclear family meets in Laare, my dad’s place. In essence, our year starts and closes in October or November. Purely based on when school closes. We meet, catch up, and the kids get to spend time with Shosh and their cousins.

Sometimes, they’re left with shosh for a week or so. But since I know it can be a lot for everyone, they return home before they know it. My rascals get wild in the village.

Once we’ve had that family catch-up, I approach Christmas with a whole new perspective. Coming from a family with a strict religious background the one thing that hasn’t changed is we don’t miss the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day Mass.

The first Christmas, after Mass, of course, we were in the house, just the three of us. My wife, our firstborn, and I. We ordered lunch in and binge-watched Christmas movies. The second year, we went to the Safari Walk and Giraffe Centre, followed by a simple dinner with just my wife and child. In the third year, we visited a children’s home with my Nairobian friends—the ones who don’t have a real “ushago.” (I mean, if your grandma lives in Ngong and your folks in Lang’ata, you definitely don’t have a real “ushago.”—No offence. )
This year, we might have lunch with our best friend’s family—we’re yet to confirm, but that’s the plan so far.

Now, before anyone comes at me on behalf of my wife, yes, every Easter we always convene at her home in Ngong. She's one of those —the “without ushago” kind but however keeps family traditions alive, and I honour that.

The truth is, I’ve learned to keep things simple without feeling like we’re missing out. At first, I was worried we’d regret not going to Shaggs. But after our first Christmas at home, it was surprisingly relaxing. The empty streets of Nairobi, almost ghostly in their stillness, felt like a different world. It was as though the rapture had happened, and for once, I could enjoy the peace and calm in Nairobi!

And then there’s the unforgiving Njaanuary. The month that seems to stretch on forever, with its 72 days (or so it feels), bringing with it school fees, rent, bills, and the usual financial pressure. As a family man, I’ve learned to think ahead. Christmas no longer dictates my financial decisions. I’ve stopped following trends and what others are doing. Instead, I’ve embraced the idea that I can spend quality time with my family at any time of the year—not just on Christmas.

In the end, this shift in how we approach Christmas has been a lesson in financial wisdom. I’ve learned that celebrations don’t need to break the bank. It’s about cherishing moments, creating memories, and most importantly, planning ahead.