Christmas comes early in America. To be honest, the day after Halloween. Exactly on 1 November Americans unplug the inflatable ghosts in their front yards from their extension cords, deflate it and pack it away in the attic.

Then they set out to the shop forthwith (so it seems to me) to buy a Christmas tree. The shopkeepers must expect this, because as if by magic this is also exactly when the first Christmas trees appear in the shops. Many Americans do not decorate for Christmas so much yet at this time, but the tree is bought and some people would decorate it already.

On the first Sunday after Halloween, time in America shifts on again by one hour, because then it is the end of daylight savings time. This means that one morning you still wake up in pitch darkness, but at least still have light when you go home at five o’clock. The next day it is suddenly much lighter when you wake up – but, oh boy, by five o’clock it is pitch black dark. Doomed-to-depression-dark.

A month after Halloween it is time for Thanksgiving; the most American of all festivals. Turkey, pumpkin pie and warm drinks with cinnamon and cloves are the staple foods. In November Americans sprinkle pumpkin spice in everything – even rooibos tea! Rooibos tea is surprisingly widely available everywhere in America.

It is the weekend after Thanksgiving when the Christmas decorations are really unpacked. Some people make an effort. If they have a big tree in their front yard, they would ask their garden services to have the lights hang even in the highest tops.

If you are a child of Africa, it however remains strange to meet Christmas with so much darkness and cold. It is this time of the year that your alienage is the harshest; the time when you feel as if Totius’s poem, “Die wêreld is ons woning nie”, is burnt into your heart. In fact, it takes more than rooibos tea (with or without pumpkin spice!) to feel at home.

It is no wonder then that people from the cold and dark north came up with a festival such as Christmas, in which light plays such a big role. Light, and eating a lot. Now that we live here, I can start to see why people rebelliously balled their fists against the darkness each December and (without being bothered by the long months of cold that still lie ahead) launched into a colossal eating spree.

“The sun will return again,” they probably had to reassure each other over and over while they munched on the precious winter supply.

“The sun will return again,” they must have mumbled while they stared, mesmerised, at the cheery fire and hoped the wood would last until April.

“The sun will return again,” they probably groaned the day after the feast, when they awoke with a hangover headache.

Sun-hungry and shivering from the cold during our first Christmas in America our family also desperately went looking for more light.

I have such fond memories of Christmas lights that appeared in South African streets in December. I can remember a trip one December through Adderley Street in Cape Town. Another time there was a visit to Happy Valley in Port Elizabeth. There were the lights on Germiston Lake and those of Joubert Park in Johannesburg.

Therefore when my hairdresser here in America told of the light extravaganza that the Busch Gardens Theme Park hosts every year, we set out to Williamsburg, Virginia – probably an hour from us – forthwith.

As always when one or other event is organised in America, there were thousands of people. Our jaws dropped to the floor over how coyly Americans can queue: well-mannered and without cutting in. First to be taken to the theme park by bus, then every time that one wanted a turn on one of the rides, and then once more each time one had to buy something to eat.

On the rides I would rather say as little as possible. This aunty no longer has the stomach or the years to race around in cars, fall down shafts at right angles or hang upside-down like a bat!

I will much rather tell you about the lights. What a sight! Around every corner another tree greets you, dressed from top to trunk in thousands of white or gold lights. The aroma of Glühwein hangs in the air and, depending on the ‘country’ you find yourself in within the park, “O, holy night” or “Stille Nacht” or “Noël, Noël” plays.

The wooden Christmas decorations made in Switzerland are so beautiful that one just wants to look and look. You cannot afford these, even with dollars in your pocket, because it is exorbitantly expensive.

Look, this is America and it is Christmas, so eating forms a big part of the experience. There is a large food court, where everything from hamburgers (naturally!) to pulled pork and crumbed chicken (not the colonel’s recipe, but still a huge American favourite) is for sale.

We always say that if we had to guess what Americans’ super talent is, it would be their organisational skills. Although the queues form long snakes, the service is surprisingly fast and after about 15 minutes you have your food and you can take a seat in the large eating hall. As per usual, it is self-serve with plastic plates and cups. You even drink your wine from a plastic glass.

In the eating hall there is a stage and because all American children are apparently born actors and musicians, they sing and dance all pretty to the beat of more festive Christmas songs. Rudolph the reindeer with his red nose, wishing you a happy Christmas, or letting it snow…

Red and white and a little green here and there would pop up in these costumes. Sometimes the eaters would merrily sing along in between bites.

But the lights outside attract us. At one spot an entire waterfall is built with lights. Later the evening there is an impressive fireworks display. We stare at it mesmerised, no kick left, but our light hunger is somewhat silenced.

As we drove back to Maryland, we didn’t tell each other: “The sun will return again,”.

What we thought, was: The Son will return and take us along to our True Land. And… maybe it is perhaps possible that He also understands American!