Happy Kwanzaa from The Akua Projects' story from Rakia Ari

The First Fruits: A Kwanzaa Story

The morning sun of December 26th filtered into the cozy living room, casting a warm glow over the remnants of Christmas wrapping paper that had been cleared away to make room for a new setup. Nana entered the room, a calendar in one hand and a smile on her face that seemed to brighten the space even more.

"Good morning, family!" Nana announced, her voice rich with anticipation. "Today is a special day. It’s December 26th, the start of Kwanzaa!"

Kofi, bursting with the energy only a young boy possesses, looked up from the low table he had been inspecting. "Kwanzaa?" he asked, tilting his head. "Is that a religious holiday like Christmas?"

Nana shook her head gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "No, Kofi. It’s a secular, pan-African cultural holiday. It runs from today until January 1st. It isn't about religion; it’s about celebrating our history, heritage, and community."

Nana’s eyes grew distant for a moment, reflecting on the past. "It was established in 1966 by Dr. Maulana Karenga, right after the Watts Riots in Los Angeles. It was a difficult time, and he wanted to bring African Americans together to restore our sense of community and pride."

Aria, who had entered carrying a woven straw mat, nodded enthusiastically. "He modeled it after traditional African harvest festivals, right Nana?"

"Exactly, Aria!" Nana beamed at her granddaughter. "The name comes from the Swahili phrase matunda ya kwanza, which means 'first fruits.'"

Aria moved to the low table and carefully unfurled the woven mat. "Okay, let’s set up the altar. First is the Mkeka."

"Yes," Nana affirmed, watching Aria smooth out the straw. "The mat represents our tradition and history. It is the foundation upon which everything else rests. Without it, the other symbols have nothing to stand on."

Next, Nana placed a beautiful wooden candleholder on the mat. Kofi rushed over, his hands full of candles—three red, one black, and three green.

"Here is the Kinara and the Mishumaa Saba—the seven candles!" Kofi announced, handing them over. "But why these colors, Nana?"

Nana began placing the candles into the Kinara. "The Kinara represents our ancestry. As for the colors, they are vital to who we are. Black is for the people, Red is for the struggle we have endured, and Green is for the future and the hope we hold."

She pointed to the seven unlit candles now standing tall. "These seven candles represent the Nguzo Saba—The Seven Principles. We dedicate one day to each." She ran her finger along the line. "There is Umoja for Unity, Kujichagulia for Self-Determination, Ujima for Collective Work, and Ujamaa for Cooperative Economics. Then we have Nia for Purpose, Kuumba for Creativity, and finally, Imani for Faith."

Aria returned from the kitchen carrying a bowl overflowing with fresh fruits and vegetables, which she arranged artfully on the mat. "We add the Mazao, the crops, to celebrate the harvest and the rewards of our productive labor."

"And I’m putting down the Muhindi!" Kofi exclaimed, placing two ears of corn on the Mkeka. "One ear for me, and one for Aria!"

"That’s right," Nana laughed softly. "The corn represents the children and the future of our family." She then placed a simple wooden chalice in the center of the arrangement. "And this is the Kikombe cha Umoja, the Unity Cup. We use it to pour libations to honor our ancestors."

As the day turned to evening, the atmosphere in the room shifted to one of reverence. The family gathered around the now-complete altar.

"So, how do we start the ritual?" Aria asked.

"Every night, we ask the greeting: 'Habari Gani?'" Nana said, looking at her grandchildren. "It means, 'What is the news?'"

Kofi puffed out his chest. "And we answer with the principle of the day! Today is day one, so the answer is 'Umoja'—Unity!"

"Correct," Nana said. She struck a match and lit the single black candle in the very center. The flame flickered to life, illuminating their faces. "We light the Black candle first. Then, over the next few days, we will light the others, alternating from the red on the left—representing struggle—to the green on the right—representing hope."

They stood in the glow of the candlelight, feeling the warmth of the moment.

"I can't wait for December 31st," Nana mused. "We will have the Karamu, a great feast with our community, food, and dance."

"And on the last day, for Imani," Kofi grinned, "we get Zawadi! Gifts!"

Aria nudged him playfully. "Yes, but remember, they are usually educational or handmade gifts. It’s about encouraging growth and creativity, not just buying commercial stuff." She smiled at her brother. "It’s going to be a beautiful week."

Nana put her arms around both of them, pulling them close as the black candle burned steadily.

"Happy Kwanzaa, my loves."

"Happy Kwanzaa!" they replied in unison.