"We all should know that diversity makes for a rich tapestry, and we must understand that all the threads of the tapestry are equal in value no matter what their color." – Maya Angelou

Date: December 26th, 2017 to January 1st, 2018

Occasion: Kwanzaa

Observed By: Those with African heritage

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XXXVIII | The Seven Days of Kwanzaa

D A Y O N E

Seven white wicks stood straight, sticking out from their respective candles. Three candles on the left were cranberry red, the three on the right pine green.

Upon seeing them, Amber Coleman was reminded of Christmas. Her attention was drawn, however, towards the black candle in the center, which looked like solidified squid ink. She noticed the candle was wonky and reached out a hand to adjust it.

Leo watched her eyes hover over each candle and smiled. He raised his hand to light the first, but fumbled the matchstick. He was intending to use a lighter, but Amber suggested using matchsticks for authenticity. Not that it mattered much, but the matchboxes were neglected during most days, so he may as well make use of them.

Amber was somewhat new to Kwanzaa, despite being African-American. Soon after she was born, her parents became far too preoccupied with work and raising a child, so Kwanzaa celebrations in their household quickly dwindled into nonexistence.

She was, however, staying with Leo and his family during Kwanzaa, and as her cousin, Leo was obliged to guide her through the week. The latter had gone through these rituals for as long as he could remember, which was perfect for Amber, who was fascinated by the festivities, despite not celebrating Kwanzaa in recent memory.

The cousins exchanged a nod, before Leo deftly struck the match and lit the black candle in the center. It flared, and a few minutes later, black wax was slowly dripping down the side.

"Cool," Amber commented, glancing up at him. "So, what do we do now?"

"We talk about the principles of Kwanzaa," Leo replied, walking to the sink and turning the tap on. He ran the charred matchstick underwater, before throwing it in the bin. When he slid back into his chair, he was met with her quizzical stare. "The first principle is unity," he explained.

"Unity across what?" she asked curiously.

"Family, community, nation, and race," he answered without missing a beat. "Come on, cuz, it's an African celebration. We need to show solidarity and stick together."

"Well, we haven't seen each other for a decade, so we need to work on that part," Amber said, a rueful smile tugging at her lips.

Leo shrugged. "Better late than never."

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D A Y T W O

Amber fiddled with the woven mat on the table before her. She made sure to keep it away from the candlestick since the straw was definitely flammable. She and Leo had spent the morning digging up old family photos from a decade ago, but they headed downstairs to eat some delicious groundnut stew, which was a Kwanzaa favorite.

Leo had run back upstairs to unplug his phone from the charger. Amber heard his footsteps pound towards her as he emerged from the stairwell. She glanced up and took the opportunity to ask, "Leo, what does this mat represent? I vaguely remember my mom telling me it was one of the symbols of Kwanzaa."

Leo took a second to focus on the object she was pointing at. "Hm? Oh yeah, the mat. It represents the foundation on which we build our lives."

"So, how many symbols of Kwanzaa are there?"

The answer rolled off his tongue without a second thought. "Seven."

"You know, that reminds me of horcruxes."

Leo masked his laughter with a sigh, burying his face in his hands. "Oh man, don't even get me started on how inaccurate that comparison was."

"Come on, I'm trying to make sense of all this," Amber protested, though she also had to suppress a chuckle. "Right, so the mat is one of the seven symbols. Is the candlestick one of them too?"

"Yep," Leo answered, taking a seat beside her. He and Amber barely knew each other, despite being cousins. Even so, her fascination regarding her African heritage was endearing and Leo respected how much effort she was putting into the festivity. "The candlestick represents the seven days, and seven principles, of Kwanzaa."

"Oh, makes sense," she murmured. Her gaze was fixed on the mat for a second, before she perked up. "So, are you always the person who lights the candle?"

"Yeah, since I'm the youngest," he confirmed. "Our family gathers every night like we did yesterday, and I light the next candle. Then, we discuss the principles together."

"Which principle are we talking about today?" Amber asked. She tapped her fingers on the table, drumming out a melody. "Self-determination, right? Creating a name for ourselves, defining who we are."

Leo raised an eyebrow. "Someone did their research."

The candles cast a soft light upon her smirk. "You underestimate me. I searched up a few facts after I went to bed last night."

Leo shook his head, his knowing grin directed at the ground. Well, that explained the soft keyboard tapping he heard around midnight. His father occasionally mentioned how fiesty and dedicated Leo's aunt was, and those traits were clearly passed down to Amber. Once something ignites her passion, she studies it relentlessly.

"Alright, I'll make sure to give you a pop quiz later," Leo quipped, before nodding towards the candlestick. "Red or green? I have to light these from the outside in, but I can start from either end."

Amber looked taken aback at being asked for input. "How about we flip a coin?"

Leo shot her an exasperated look. "Seriously? Just pick one."

She drummed her nails on the table, heaving a sigh. "Fine, green."

"Green it is," Leo said, striking the match and adding another flame to the kinara.

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D A Y T H R E E

"Why are the candles these specific colors?" Amber wondered aloud as Leo clattered around the kitchen, making breakfast. "I know these candles are the third symbol of Kwanzaa, but why these colors?"

Leo had offered to cook alone, but Amber wasn't having that. She'd insisted on helping and had been consulting the recipes before, but her attention wandered to the flickering candles. Green and black wax was beginning to pool at the base of the holder.

"Red, green, and black are the colors of the African flag." Leo flipped an egg and glanced at Amber, who had gone back to flipping through the cookbook. The left corner of his lips twitched up. "Duh."

"Oh, damn, how did I not think of that?" Amber smacked her forehead with her palm. "It seems so obvious now."

"So, what happened to all that research you were bragging about yesterday?" Leo remarked, flicking a tea towel over his shoulder.

"I'm not an encyclopedia, you ass." Amber had given into laughter, and soon Leo was chuckling along with her. The egg sizzled, which snapped them out of it. Leo hastened to turn the stove off while Amber propped the cookbook against the wall. "How about I start on the bacon?" she asked.

"Sure," Leo said, offering the pan and spatula to her. "Oh, and before you ask, we're lighting a red candle today. The one at the far end."

"Wow, for someone who I last remember as a little kid, throwing up after the Tower of Terror ride at Disneyland, you know me pretty well."

Leo threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh, come on! I told you not to bring that up."

"I never made that promise," Amber replied without missing a beat, plating their breakfast and handing a dish to Leo. "So, which principle are we talking about today?"

"Collective work and responsibility," Leo answered, accepting the plate. "It's my responsibility to make you feel at home here, so you'd better cooperate."

Amber grinned up at him, her cheeks bulging with bacon and eggs. "Give me a good meal first. Then we'll talk about cooperation," she quipped back, swallowing the mouthful with difficulty.

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D A Y F O U R

Three candles were dripping hot wax now, pooling in a mixture of colors. Leo struck another match and brought it to the wick of a second green candle, which flickered to life. He blew the match out, which left a wisp of grey smoke swirling into the air.

His parents and older brother dissolved into conversation, leaving Leo and Amber to their own devices. Once Leo had thrown out the matchstick and returned to his seat, he quirked an eyebrow at the pile of matchboxes which Amber had gathered, neatly stacked in front of her. "What, are we lighting a bonfire tonight?"

"You ever tried building a matchstick house?" Amber asked, sliding the nearest matchbox open and tipping it over, letting matchsticks spill onto the table. When Leo shook his head, she sighed. "Well, you have a lot to learn, cousin."

"Well, damn. You're the expert," he laughed, dragging a chair over and seating himself next to her. Amber began to stack matchsticks while he watched, admiring how immersed she was in her handiwork.

After a few minutes, she glanced up and gestured at a bowl of fruit. "Is that there for decor, or are we supposed to eat them?"

"No, we leave them to rot over the new year," Leo said sardonically. She paused once again, her matchstick house halfway built, to stick her tongue out at him, to which he decided to drop the sarcasm. "Fine, yeah, we do eat them."

They gasped in unison as the matchstick house wobbled. Once the house righted itself, Amber let out a relieved sigh and carried on the conversation. "So, does the fruit have a symbolic meaning? Or are they just there to be eaten?"

"Come on, you know everything has a symbolic meaning in this household," Leo reminded her. "It represents the gathering of people after African harvest festivals. Since they harvest fruit, fruit has kind of become symbolic of unity and hard work. You know, since it takes loads of effort and personal sacrifices to sow seeds and feed everyone."

"Oh," Amber said vaguely. "I'm trying to focus on what you just said, but that fruit looks delicious."

He plucked a light pink peach from the bowl and offered it to her. "Want one? We washed them earlier today so you can eat whatever you want."

She glanced from him to the peach. "Are you going to take one too? I feel awkward being the only person eating anything."

Leo had to bite back a laugh, knowing his family was so engrossed in conversation that he could probably set off the smoke alarm and they would be unbothered. Considering how extroverted Amber was, she tended to be insecure at the strangest of times, but he grabbed a mango to humor her. "Yeah, sure. You feel less awkward now?

"Give it some time," Amber said, taking a bite of her peach.

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D A Y F I V E

Five candles were now lit, two each of green and red, and the black one in the center. The pool of wax was growing larger, but the flames continued to burn merrily. The cousins were outside for the first time since Kwanzaa started, wandering around the town square, where customers were crowded in various stores.

"Those flavors look so good," Amber sighed, her nose pressed against the glass of an ice cream shop. There were no customers, and the person at the register was playing on his phone. "How about we grab a cone each? They look fully stocked."

"It's the middle of winter," Leo protested, but the words had barely left his mouth before Amber was dragging him into the shop by his coat sleeve. "Ow, geez, stop yanking my coat! Fine, which flavors do you want?"

She replied so quickly that it seemed rehearsed. "Three scoops, one each of cookies and cream, vanilla, and pistachio." She caught his raised eyebrow at the mention of pistachio and looked at him defensively. "What? It tastes better than it sounds."

"Sure," Leo said skeptically. Even so, he made no protest on her flavor choices and relayed their orders to the guy behind the counter. It took a while to make him look up from his phone, but he eventually slouched into the back to assemble their cones. "So, day five," he spoke up. "How are you holding up, cuz?"

"Not bad," Amber remarked, leaning against the counter. "Spending time with you and your family during Kwanzaa reminded me of everything I missed out on as a kid. Thanks for keeping me company."

"No problem. It's nice to hang around a family member around my age for once." He exchanged a grin with her as the employee shuffled back, holding two large cones with their ice cream on top. "Oh, thanks," Leo said to him as they each took their cones and left the shop, making their way back to the house.

Tiny flakes of snow battered their cheeks as they walked, and despite herself, Amber was mildly worried that each time she licked her cone, her tongue would freeze to the ice cream. Well, at least there was no chance of the ice cream melting now.

"Which principle are we talking about tonight?" she asked Leo, who was shivering whilst eating his coffee-flavored scoop.

"Purpose," he mumbled back. "You know, restoring the African community to its traditional greatness."

By this point, Amber had reached the golden cone and crunched down the last of her ice cream. Leo stared at her in bewilderment, wondering how on earth she managed to polish it off so fast. She brushed the crumbs off her coat nonchalantly. "So, how exactly do you restore a community?" she called over the wind.

"We usually just talk about it," Leo replied. A car honked at them as they crossed the street. "Discuss African customs and remember the past."

"Oh, cool. Do you have time to explain those customs to me? You know, before your parents put me on the spot and make me contribute to the discussion?" Amber asked, nudging him with her shoulder.

Leo laughed and instantly received a mouthful of snow. Once he spat it out, he bumped her back. "I guess I'll have to clear my schedule."

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D A Y S I X

"What does this corn cob represent?"

Leo glanced up from his phone to see Amber holding up an ear of golden corn. He set his device on the table. "It's another symbol of Kwanzaa that represents fertility and the reproduction of children. There's a corn cob for every child in the family."

"One for each of us, then." She picked up the other cob and brandished it at Leo. "Come forth, and I will knight you with this cob of corn, puny child."

"Who are you calling a puny child?" Leo grumbled, taking the corn from her and setting it back on the table. "You're only four months older than me."

"Four months older and four months wiser," Amber teased, but her attention was soon captured towards the candle holder. "Only two more candles left to light, huh? Do you ever get bored of doing it?"

"No, I love fire," Leo rebutted, before he realized the connotation of his sentence. "I mean, not in a pyromania kind of way, but as an observer," he added hastily.

"Sure," Amber snorted, jerking her head towards a large goblet gleaming with a polished brown sheen. "What's this?" She leaned forward to peer into the cup and was greeted with a dark purple surface, pristine as polished glass. "Is this juice or wine?"

Leo pulled the goblet towards him, wafting the scent toward him and taking a sniff. "Grape juice. We're too young to drink."

"Fine by me. I never liked wine," she commented, wrinkling her nose. "Way too bitter for my taste. So, the goblet is another symbol of Kwanzaa, right? What does it represent?"

"It's called the Unity Cup. It's another one of the seven Kwanzaa symbols, and it's used in the tambiko ritual that we'll start in a few minutes. You'll see what happens. Also," Leo added as an afterthought. "I bet you'll like the principle we're talking about today. It's creativity. Using your imagination to improve the community."

Amber perked up, intrigue sparkling in her chestnut eyes. "Ah, a discussion I can finally contribute to. Good call."

Once his other family members were seated, the ritual commenced. The goblet of juice was passed around the table, with everyone taking a sip. There was some juice left at the end for the spirits and ancestors, but Leo's dad took the goblet and began to pour the juice due north, south, east, and west, to honor their ancestors. Amber shot a confused look at Leo, who muttered, "I'll explain later."

Amber nodded and glanced back at the candleholder. The fire cast light on the stripes of her shirt, and hopefully, the soul within.

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D A Y S E V E N

The last day of Kwanzaa was also the first day of the new year. Neither Leo nor Amber managed to fall asleep last night amongst the cheering which deafened their ears, so they had begrudgingly clambered out of bed and peered sleepily through a glazed window, watching fireworks burst into showers of sparks in the distance.

"I should probably start packing up my stuff today," Amber informed Leo as she began to fold up towels and shove them in her suitcase. "I'm just here for the last night of Kwanzaa, and then I'll be heading back home, to Connecticut."

Amber and Leo lived on opposite sides of the United States, so she would be catching a five hour flight tomorrow morning. Her parents were off on a business trip while she was staying with him, but they would arrive home a day before she did. The past seven days had flown by and it was hard to believe that they would be separated so soon.

Leo tried to hide his frown, wishing he could forge a stronger friendship with her after having no contact for a decade. Plus, having Amber here during Kwanzaa made the occasion much more fun. "Do you have to leave so soon?"

"What, you miss me already?" she laughed, throwing a pair of jeans on top of the towels. "Well, let's make the most of my last day here. Which purpose are we going to talk about?"

"Faith," Leo answered, seating himself on the edge of her bed. In doing so, he put himself in the radius of her careless packing methods. When Amber accidentally tossed a turtleneck at his face, which he caught by a narrow margin, he decided it would be in his best interest to help her. "Here, let me fold those shirts before you accidentally chuck one out the window."

She rolled her eyes, but handed him a bundle of shirts. "What were you saying about faith?"

"Oh, right, the last purpose of Kwanzaa. Faith, as in, believing in our righteousness and the victory of our struggles."

"Sounds like a blast," Amber remarked distractedly, before catching her tone. "Wait, sorry, that sounded sarcastic. I mean, that sounds wonderful."

"I don't know if anyone's told you this, but everything you say somehow comes out sarcastic," Leo informed her, placing one last pile of shirts in her suitcase. A sudden thought struck him, and he strolled over to his desk drawer, offering Amber a small, clumsily wrapped present. "Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you."

Amber took one look at the gift and her gaze softened. "Oh, come on, Leo. You should have told me we were giving gifts. Now I feel bad for not getting you anything."

"I guess your Kwanzaa research has a few gaps in it," Leo teased, but before she could courteously turn down the present, he set the box on top of the suitcase. "Just take the gift. I'll superglue it to your suitcase if I have to."

"Well, thanks, cuz," she said, her lips twitching into a smile. "Let me take a wild guess. Is gift giving is another Kwanzaa tradition?"

"Spot on. The gifts are supposed to be educational, and since you want to learn about your African culture and heritage, I thought a gift related to Kwanzaa would be helpful."

"Wow, look at you, keeping an eye on my education even after I leave. You ever considered being a teacher?" Amber joked, before pulling Leo into a hug. "No, but seriously. Thanks for letting me stick around this week. This was fun."

"No problem," Leo replied as they broke apart. "You ready for our final discussion tonight? Kwanzaa beckons your presence."

"That's a weird way of putting it, but sure," she laughed, gesturing towards the staircase. "First one downstairs gets the last mango?"

"You're on."

~~~

A/N: So, this chapter (and also the Valentine's Day chapter – we'll get to that later) was the root cause of my insecurity about this anthology & the reason why I unpublished this story last year. The first time around, one of the main characters was white (Leo was there, but Amber was not). In hindsight, I realised that this was an inappropriate choice, given the occasion, so I rewrote the chapter with Amber instead. I hope, this time, I did Kwanzaa justice.

Please let me know if there are inaccuracies and/or anything disrespectful in this chapter that I should fix. I want to make sure that I keep this story accurate and respectful to all races and cultures. I've spent many hours doing research for this story, but my view of the world (and of all these celebrations) is limited by my own culture and background (I'm Asian, non-religious, wrote this story between the ages of 16-18, etc.)

Thank you for reading! Hope you are all staying safe during the current pandemic.