The most memorable part of Christmas 1984 for me was Band Aid and the song, “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” http://youtu.be/to652Gy9blI
Although I’d been determined to do so, I eventually chose not to stay in Tripoli over Christmas. The inability to find decent food (let alone Christmas food), coupled with appalling weather — rain ten days straight, if memory serves, which flooded the already terrible roads and isolated me more than usual from my friends — finished me off. At the last minute, I flew back to England to spend the season with my family.
All I heard about, from my arrival in London until my departure a week later, was the third-world horror that was Ethiopia — I’d never seen such poverty and devastation — and the well-intentioned, first-world song designed to alleviate it. It was also the first time I witnessed what can happen when large groups gather to do good. A spark of “charity, mercy, forbearance, benevolence” was ignited in me during what was a rather self-pitying time in my life, reminding me that a sure-fire way to stop feeling sorry for oneself is to focus one’s attention on someone else’s needs. Apologies if that sounds self-righteous but it’s how it was. What I thought of as “my miserable Christmas” couldn’t compare with the miseries of others. I was a bit old at twenty seven to need reminding but I’m glad the spark was lit. Even now, I readily admit that more often than not I need a “mighty fire” lit under my arse before I actually get off it (my arse, that is), but my intentions are good, even if my personal road to hell is paved with them.
