Father Christmas is dead, the Grinch is calling the shots

Who is the Grinch who stole our Christmas?

Is it Finance Minister Malusi Gigaba with his shiny designer suits or the ever-giggling president, whose alligator-wide smile would make you think he is presiding over some paradise called Utopia, where milk flows on the streets – when all of us have started to feel the effects of the fallen rand?

Or is it the faceless and profitdriven capitalists whose names we don’t know, who decide every single month to hike the petrol price beyond our reach?

While we may debate ad nauseam about the factors that have brought the economy to its knees, what we are all struggling with is the Black Christmas that most of us are facing this year.

And one knows how expensive the African Christmas is for black people.

After doing some serious spring cleaning of the house – which requires a fresh lick of paint to impress potential visitors – one has to have a huge budget for the summer holidays.

After barely surviving a horrible financial year where everything increased exponentially, except most people’s salaries, we are all walking around with our heads bowed because Father Christmas is dead.

Between the increases in municipal rates, electricity rates, being taxed to death and no chance of saving as we struggle to survive, Christmases no longer have the same cheer as before.

The usual family Christmas lunch this year – where the in-laws, friends and even old childhood friends can rock up uninvited – has to be strictly and radically revised.

I hear a lot of people are going European these days in their entertainment practices by hosting smaller family lunches, where “family” excludes anyone whose relationship status starts numerically, like “second” cousin and “third” uncle – people who make the budget inflate exponentially when it comes to festive season celebrations.

This Christmas, all the pieces of chicken in the pot will be counted, and only a few extra will be cooked to cater for unexpected incidents – such as one or two pieces getting burned.

No more cooking in big pots and not batting an eyelid when neighbours pop in to “ask for Christmas”.

For the unexpected visitors, one would rather cleverly put a packet of no-name biscuits and no-name Cola on standby to serve them.

The high cost of living means that all Christmas gift catalogues – from liquor to toy stores – were swiftly thrown into the bins, instead of being perused for goodies to buy. Gone are the days of buying special treats to thank yourself for working hard throughout the year.

Gone are the days when you could surprise your uncles with a special bottle of whisky, just to thank them for the support they gave you through the year.

This year when they knock on your door, you will tell them that you are on an alcohol detox programme and ignore the eyes bulging from their sockets in shock.

Gone are the shopping trips to buy Christmas clothes which used to include outfits for all the holidays from the 16th, 25th, 31st of December to New Year’s Day. Even some of our favourite retail stores closed shop this year from the effect of this depressing economic downturn.

Go thaathaa banna, things are bad mzala!