Christmas in Pakistan
written by: Mariam Magsi
As an immigrant from Pakistan who has called Canada home for 18 years, whenever the winter holidays come around, I am often asked the following question:
Do you celebrate Christmas in Pakistan?
While some folks approach these topics through a lens of bigotry, others are genuinely curious to know more about my motherland and the kinds of holidays and festivities we celebrate. Despite a rising influx of influencers and white tourists flocking to various provinces of Pakistan, and with a breadth of material available online, for the most part, a lot of folks have no knowledge about the existence of non-Muslim communities in Pakistan, such as Hindu, Christian and Zoroastrian Pakistanis and how their respective religious vernacular has evolved in the region, impacted and shaped by several socio-political and cultural factors.
I must also preface this text by stating, that while there are some communities, clans, and families practicing pluralism and religious/cultural diversity in Pakistan, religious minorities continue to face oppression and marginalization by intolerant and hegemonic right-wing forces. I received a firsthand glimpse into this rising intolerance, when several members of my Pakistani community reached out at the end of last year to say that “Muslims should not say Merry Christmas to Christians as it is haram” (unlawful or forbidden). Because I was raised in a pluralistic household, I reject the creation of insular, exclusionary, rigid, and polar worlds.
I had the unique privilege of being raised by a Punjabi mother and a Baloch father. They originate from entirely different provincial and cultural backgrounds, and fought very hard to transcend ethnic segregation, race, and class to be together, despite several barriers. They struggled with lack of support and financial challenges, and several of their family members were vocally against their Baloch-Punjabi union. Still, they persisted, and persevered.
Within our home, our caregivers consisted of people from every religious background imaginable, including Hindu and Christian. As the years went by and our family grew, people from the Philippines, Bangladesh, and Afghanistan also joined our home. Elders from my paternal Baloch Magsi clan also became important life guides and lived in our house with us. I was offered a healthy, robust exposure to multiple generations and their unique ways of worshiping, eating, dressing, and living, within the same household.
My siblings and I were enrolled in a Catholic convent school nestled within a British education system. Celebrating Christmas in school was as natural as celebrating Eid. My parents shared close ties with the local and foreign Christian nuns who ran the establishment and had also forged friendships with priests in the clergy. To further illustrate this closeness, one of my sisters was even christened in the chapel at the school. There was a seamless integration of Islam with Christianity, and there was nothing abnormal about it. One could be rooted in their faith of birth, and fluid with faith-based practices. This helped us develop a flexible understanding of faith-based practices and how they are not static, but constantly evolving through contact with environmental influences and external encounters.
The days leading up to Christmas were filled with so much excitement. A fresh stack of greeting cards was placed in front of us on the night of Christmas Eve, and by the next morning, the cards were filled with warm wishes in our writing, ready to be given out with gift packages to all of our loved ones. I remember visiting the local bakery to order fresh, creamy, soft-sponge cakes, crispy chicken patties, and marzipans. Then we’d go to the bazaar with our mother to pick out colourful fruit baskets, festive ornaments, and a Christmas tree. One year we even found fake snow that came in a can and erupted like silly string. We wore new and sparkly clothes, just like we did on Eid holidays, and made our way to St. Anthony’s church for Christmas mass with our Christian caregivers. We’d sing along with all the hymns, walk up to the priests to get communion, and then zip back around using holy water to cross ourselves. There was nothing odd or otherworldly about it. I remember looking around at the congregation and noticing that there were so many people in skirts and dresses in one setting in Pakistan. The sounds of heels clicking away on the glossy floors would echo against the stained glass windows. Women would reach into their glittering, sequinned purses and pull out hand-held fans to cool their sweaty brows, while using wrinkled tissue paper to blot their melting, crimson lipstick. After Christmas mass, my siblings, caregivers and I would pile up into our pick-up truck and head straight to school to wish the nuns, and distribute gifts to the clergy.
Late Christmas nights were usually spent with Christian family friends. The elders gathered around bottles of secretly imported brandy, rum, and wine, while us kids dashed to the dessert table ornamented with some of the world’s finest homemade toffee, fudge, and cakes made by Ms. Theresa, who was not only my educator, but also very close with my mother. Today, like most other Christian people in our networks, many families have migrated to Canada, the UK, and the USA for higher income opportunities, safety, and religious freedom. Many of these migrations began in the 90s and year after year, our festive celebrations and get-togethers grew smaller with more and more Christian Pakistanis leaving the country on a permanent basis.
One of my closest paternal aunts is American with Nicaraguan roots. When she arrived in Pakistan from the USA to join our family, she brought with her many American holiday traditions that became the norm in our homes over Christmas time. Every December, Chachi (paternal aunt) Carmen opened her doors to all of the family’s children for tree decoration traditions, stuffed turkey with mashed potatoes, and merrymaking.
Chinese and Pinoy foods were also a regular feature on our festive dinner tables. Our primary caregiver, Ate (older sister) Flordeliza Sauza introduced us to many foods from her motherland, such as, Pancit, Chicken Adobo, and Siopao, which we greatly enjoyed especially over festive, winter holidays. Though Ate Liza, as we lovingly know her, identifies as Catholic, she seamlessly adopted many Islamic faith-based practices as well. She not only prayed with us on Fridays, but she also participated in Zikr (meditative chanting of the 99 names of Allah in Arabic). On Sundays, we went to church with her.
After my marriage to a person from the Balkans, my own awareness and knowledge about Christmas has expanded. After all, we were primarily exposed to Catholicism in Pakistan. Though my husband converted to Islam and now identifies as Muslim, he was born in an Orthodox Christian family, and we have chosen to carry on many of the beautiful Christmas and Easter traditions he was raised with. January 7th is Orthodox Christmas. We usually start the day by making a trip to the monastery and light candles for our deceased loved ones in honour of their memory. Traditionally, on Orthodox Christmas Eve, people place “badnjak” (oak tree branches) into a fire, but because this isn’t possible in urban households, a community center or monastery is usually designated for the ritual. Of the many food traditions I have observed and adopted from my beloved’s mother, one of my favourites is hiding coins, cloves, and other items in bread to signify luck, wealth, and health. The bread is baked fresh, and the entire family comes around the dinner table to break into it. Everyone receives a portion of the bread, usually with a symbolic item hidden inside that will signify the trajectory of the year pertaining to health and good fortune.
Reflecting on these memories, I am reminded of the beauty and richness of pluralism and the way our traditions intertwined and enriched each other, creating a mosaic of love and celebration. Even now, as I build my own family and honour the traditions of my husband’s Orthodox Christian roots alongside my Islamic identity, I hold onto the belief that faith is most powerful when it unites rather than divides. Christmas, for me, has always been about connection, crossing boundaries, embracing diversity, and creating a shared space where love and joy flourish. This is the spirit of Christmas I will carry forward, no matter where I call home.
- Christmas in Pakistan - December 26, 2024
