In the Townsville of my 1980s childhood, summer was always about sticky hands from eating mangoes plucked from trees, visiting every swimming pool and avoiding contact with the cane toads who sat waiting at your front door. I was absolutely convinced it was a scientific fact that if you came into close contact with them you would get warts forever. Australia, in December, was the best place in the world.

The first Christmas I moved to Australia from Pakistan, my mother tells me I saw a Santa in a shopping centre, stopped a lady and said “Did you know that’s Father Christmas?”. Apparently she did. I then posed for my obligatory “Santa 1982” photo. My two front teeth were missing. I felt like all my Christmases had come at once. I had read and seen picture books with Santa, but here he was in the flesh. And thus began my love affair with Christmas.



Coming from Pakistan, we never had a Christmas tree or decorations at my house. When gifts were distributed at daycare or school, Santa always had gifts at the ready for my sister and me. It used to make us feel like we were so special; on Christmas Santa didn’t come to our place.

On Christmas day we would race out to chat to the neighbours’ kids over the back fence and they would bring out their spoils to show us. I wondered why they always got socks, undies and singlets. I didn’t know why Santa found his way to the undergarment section of Target, but he did.



When we would make our annual journey to Sydney by car, we would spend Christmas Day with the Taggarts, Nances, Byrnes or the Barnetts. I remember attending my first midnight Mass with the Nance kids and wondered what the wonderous wafer they all received at communion tasted like.



Later, after we moved to Sydney, we traditionally spent Christmas day with the Byrnes and Barnett families. At Eid, the Byrnes and Barnetts come over to my parents’. The tradition of wearing Christmas hats, overeating the traditional Christmas prawn curry and playing some board game that goes on for hours is just a small part of our day.

Now us older kids have got our own kids, who get excited about the presents under the tree. My parents also chip in with the traditional Christmas “biriyani” and there was the one year of “tandoori turkey” which didn’t quite take off.



These days I celebrate Christmas Greek style with my in-laws before joining in with the rest of my family, the Byrnes and Barnetts. I still don’t have a tree in my house, but I always buy candy canes – my personal connection to Christmas – and make the trek to David Jones’s Nativity window display and the Martin Place Christmas tree to see Sydney celebrate in its own way.

Most importantly, I love the family time we have, as we close up our office and catch up with all those we haven’t seen all year. Whether you are celebrating the birth of Jesus or not, Christmas in Australia is always a very special time to spend with those you love.