The 2023 Sign-off…

It’s been a while. I have even played with the idea of disappearing until the New Year, inshallah, but that would seem impolite.

I have spent the last several weeks putting the finishing touches to my End-of-Year articles and playlists, balancing that out with other writing obligations and commissions that have trickled in.

Switching to freelance has helped me regain some agency. I’m nonetheless still in survival mode as I try and establish myself in this self-employment lark. That causes a fair amount of stress. It is compounded by the onset of winter proper, which hits Belgium with frosty violence in early December.  If it’s not bitterly cold, it’s relentlessly wet and overcast. Not for the first time, it feels as if my S.A.D is starting earlier and earlier. The end of year lends to taking inventory of the recent and distant past. I have been in the throes of a low spell that has me revisiting my regrets, old and new. Add to that some simmering family disagreements and it’s not the cheeriest cocktail. I wonder how this all fits in with me working routinely on improving my psycho-emotional health. And yet, when I recall how bereft I felt at the end of 2022, I have cause to be grateful.

And of course, there’s no stasis in my world; a saving grace in itself. The last couple of months have naturally been taken up by much activism around Israel’s criminal war in Gaza and the general plight of the Palestinians. Brussels has not had the same weekly mass demonstrations seen in London but there are groups faithfully holding events on a regular, even daily, basis. I have attended a few. Except for a run-in with one unhinged character (in which others intervene on my behalf), these marches are largely peaceful. It’s been wonderful meeting new acquaintances from all walks of life, coming together for this single humane cause.

In late November, I join Intal’s Palestine bloc for the march to commemorate the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women. Early on in the event, the police react aggressively to demonstrators attaching solidarity stickers to lamp-posts and the like. At the end of the march, I bump into Nathalie, a member of my church, Fresh Wine Ministries. I can barely believe my eyes. I ask if she’s there for the demo or just happens to be in the area. Nathalie has come with a group of single mother activists. We both share our frustrations about the absence of a Christian presence at what are meant to be manifestations of solidarity and calls for peace. None of her entourage are from the Church. Whilst Nathalie is a little world-weary, I consider it an encouragement to have met her in these circumstances. We might be small in number but we’re somehow holding the fort.

Alongside my political pursuits I try to maintain my spiritual practices, with a special focus on Advent. It’s all the more necessary at a time when I’m particularly disillusioned with the mainstream Church. I find social action to be a lifeline, like my shifts at the Red Cross or the Christmas lunch initiative, organised by the Compassion team at FWM. 

For three weeks from early December, I rise before dawn for daily online prayers organised by the majority Francophone-African Elim International church.  I find these sorts of communal prayer events invigorating to an extent that surprises me.   At the cusp of Advent I attend a half-day silent retreat. It’s held at the same oasis of calm I discovered earlier in the year at a similar event. These activities are often a mix of serenity and deep, painful introspection. It’s priceless. A busybody like me would otherwise never find – or make – the space for this uninterrupted quality time with the Almighty.

The following week I join the second part of a conference on interreligious community life. I see a few familiar faces including a former would-be employer. As well as stimulating discourse there’s a live Gospel music interval. I won’t stick around for the main event itself but get a taste during the soundcheck. The quartet are easily the best such outfit I’ve come across since relocating to Belgium three and a half years ago. Alas, I have a gripe with the musical director, Jason. He neglects to invite me to participate, as he all but promised when we met in the summer.

Thankfully, there are other musical outlets. A couple of the jams I’ve come to appreciate in the past year have sadly, already fallen by the wayside. I still have my monthly Brazilian appointment at Café Merlo for which I’m grateful. Urged by a friend yet to hear me sing, I perform a rendition of Brazilian classic, Insensatez, at the Jazz Station’s Sunday night open mic/jam.

Agnès, Clothilde and I continue to meet up when we can. Yet, even such leisurely activities can feel pressured when squeezing them into a packed schedule. I have a hard time with the idea of letting people down.

Our group has now expanded to four. I've invited Beverly, an affable young German lass, to join us after hearing her harmonise at another open mic. So far we’re yet to all meet as a quartet. We make do with gathering in various constellations, according to what our timetables allow. When we’re not connecting online, we attempt to meet for other festive musical events, of which there are plenty. There are outdoor performances at the Christmas market. Holy Trinity Brussels have several carol concerts on their agenda. I sing my little heart out to some of my favourite Christmas hymns at HTB's majestic annual traditional service. For all my post-colonial conflict about being born and raised in the heart of Empire, there's the odd British custom for which I have a soft spot, especially around Christmas.

I note a marked difference in Brussels festive atmosphere this year compared to last December. The City has really showed up for Christmas 2023. It seems most communes begin installing the still-tasteful and enchanting decorations even earlier than usual. In 2022 there was a lot of belt-tightening because of energy costs. Some fairy lights were deliberately left dim, making the whole thing a bit shabby. Not so this year, save for the odd blown fuse. I gladly indulge my new tradition of wandering the streets of Brussels, my inner child leaping with delight at the Yuletide illuminations.

This Christmas once again, I will divide the season between the UK and Belgium. I’d have preferred to stay put, especially so soon after my last visit across the Channel. It would also have been cheaper. I wish so all the more when the coach company with which I’m supposed to travel, postpones my departure date by two days. What should have been roughly a week’s stay is truncated to a long weekend. Mum insists that she would have been happy to join me in Belgium for the first half of Christmas. It would have alleviated the pressure of planning, she confesses. Yet somehow, I have had the strong impression she and sis were not keen on the idea. I hazily recollect being rebuffed when broaching the topic.

The bus company offers no explanation for the timetable change. Fuming at first, I frantically try to find an economical alternative to no avail. I eventually make my peace with it as I perceive the bright side. It means a lot of rescheduling but also allows me to catch my breath pre-travel.

Soundtrack: Personal Christmas Mix, Kadhja Bonet - California Holiday, Childqueen and others

Wishing all LVC readers a peace-filled and comforting Christmas season.