The first time I celebrated my birthday, I was in my thirties. I was in Jerusalem and a good friend decided to host a birthday party for me. She also invited some of her co-teachers from the Anglican School - Americans, British and an Australian - along with a priest friend of mine from Uganda.
In my home village on the slopes of Kilimanjaro, we celebrated birthdays, but they are different kind of birthdays. They are called "mafeo" ("ifeo", singular) in Kichagga, my tribal language, or "kumbukumbu" in Swahili, meaning, literally, "remembrance" or "memorial". These were baptism or confirmation anniversaries.
Every Sunday, during the "Announcements", the names of all those observing their "kumbukumbu" or "mafeo" in the coming week, would be read out. On the relevant day of the anniversary, there would be a special service of thanksgiving for the individual or individuals celebrating the occasion. It would also be an occasion for the whole community to come together in celebration.
Those then, were my birthday memories.
That evening, after dinner, my friend brought out the birthday cake with glowing candles and laid it in front of me. All the guests sang a birthday song. They stared at me and I stared back at them.
My Ugandan priest friend whispered to me in Swahili, "Make a wish, then blow out the candles". I searched my mind for a wish and he read my face. "Don't say it loudly", he added.
Thank God! I blew out the candles to a thunderous applause.
In my home village on the slopes of Kilimanjaro, we celebrated birthdays, but they are different kind of birthdays. They are called "mafeo" ("ifeo", singular) in Kichagga, my tribal language, or "kumbukumbu" in Swahili, meaning, literally, "remembrance" or "memorial". These were baptism or confirmation anniversaries.
Every Sunday, during the "Announcements", the names of all those observing their "kumbukumbu" or "mafeo" in the coming week, would be read out. On the relevant day of the anniversary, there would be a special service of thanksgiving for the individual or individuals celebrating the occasion. It would also be an occasion for the whole community to come together in celebration.
Those then, were my birthday memories.
That evening, after dinner, my friend brought out the birthday cake with glowing candles and laid it in front of me. All the guests sang a birthday song. They stared at me and I stared back at them.
My Ugandan priest friend whispered to me in Swahili, "Make a wish, then blow out the candles". I searched my mind for a wish and he read my face. "Don't say it loudly", he added.
Thank God! I blew out the candles to a thunderous applause.
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