26/08/2026
In a lot of Guyanese homes, Christmas did not begin with food. It began with somebody deciding the entire house had to be turned upside down. π
Weeks out, the plan started. New curtains, because the old ones had done their year. Floors scrubbed and varnished or polished until you could see yourself in the boards, at which point you were forbidden from walking on them. Walls painted. Cushion covers changed. The furniture pushed into the middle of the room under an old sheet, the good glasses taken down and washed even though nobody had touched them since last Christmas. Children were handed a rag and a task and told, quite correctly, that they were helping.
Nobody could fully explain the rule, but everybody followed it. The house had to be new for the new year. Whatever was cracked got fixed or thrown out. Whatever was faded got replaced. Part of it came from a belief that how you enter a year is how you will spend it, and part of it came from something simpler, because people were going to visit, and people were going to look.
Then Christmas morning arrived and it was all done. Curtains hanging stiff and bright, floor shining, pepperpot on the stove, and the smell of fresh paint mixing with the smell of black cake. That particular combination is one of the strongest memories a lot of us carry around, and there is nowhere you can go to buy it. β¨
Was your family the new curtains type or the fresh coat of paint type, and how early did the cleaning start?