I grew up in a Muslim family in Dubai, but became obsessed with the Hallmark vision of Christmas, and with Macaulay Culkin. The reality was a disappointment only Home Alone could assuage
W
hen I was eight years old, I was living in Dubai and desperate to experience a western Christmas. My family are Muslim, and Christmas was something we’d never celebrated – but after consuming countless festive Hallmark movies, I was hooked on the dream of having turkey, tinsel and, most importantly, presents. I also had an enormous crush on Macaulay Culkin, and thought if I could experience Christmas for myself it would somehow bring me closer to him.
After months of badgering my parents about why my twin brother and I deserved Christmas, they relented. My beautiful Iraqi-Egyptian mother took on the task with gumption, finding the largest, tackiest tree you can imagine.
In the weeks preceding Christmas Day, I watched the tree take on more and more ornaments, each more shiny and outrageous than the last. My mother was, and still is, the most glamorous woman I know; going to shopping malls with her was heaven, as she would delight shop assistants by catwalking in various ensembles. The tree fell victim to her charm, as it accumulated ornament after ornament, each as opulent as the ensembles she would wear to her upmarket luncheons.
