Next Saturday will be marked in very different ways around a world torn apart by terrorism, poverty and war.
IRAQ: When Christmas makes you a target
Christmas will be a sad affair in Karakosh, a Christian town of 27,000 in northern Iraq. "A few days before Christmas, people will put up trees and coloured lights inside their homes and shops. They'll eat Christmas dinner, just like you do in Europe, but their hearts are not in it," says Father Louis, 69, one of six priests in Karakosh. "We used to celebrate more, but people are sad now."
Fifteen Christians from Karakosh have met violent deaths since April, 2003. "Some were shot. Some were beheaded. Some were gunned down by US soldiers at a checkpoint on the road from Baghdad to Mosul," Father Louis recounts.
Speaking over a crackling telephone line, the priest asks that his family name not be printed. He refuses to discuss the Muslim fundamentalist insurgents who are targeting Iraq's small Christian community. "The phone may be tapped," Father Louis says. "We are afraid."
There will be no Mass on the evening of December 24th. Father Louis will say Mass in the Syriac Catholic Church of the Immaculate Conception on December 25th. "I will tell worshippers that Christ said he would judge us according to how we behaved through trials and tribulations; this is a terrible period," he says.
Father Louis and the other priests in Karakosh have received many threats. "They tell us they will cut our heads off," he says.
On the 25th, midnight Mass will be held at 4 p.m., to enable parishioners to return home before dark. Fearing violence, the Christians of Karakosh cancelled their Palm Sunday processions in 2003 and 2004. University students who commute to Mosul, 25 km to the south, stayed home for the Muslim holy month of Ramadan in October and November. Armed volunteers take turns guarding the town's four churches.
On December 7th, insurgents destroyed two churches in Mosul. At one church, 20 Muslims ordered three priests to leave the sanctuary. When the bombs exploded, they shouted "Allahu Akhbar".
At least 13 Christians were killed in the bombings of seven churches in Mosul and Baghdad in November and August. Last New Year's Eve, the bombers struck Nabil restaurant in Baghdad where Christians were celebrating, killing at least six.
Iraq is supposed to hold elections for a national assembly on January 30th, but Father Louis is sceptical. "We have received no ballot papers or boxes," he says. "The terrorists burned down the voter registration office."
Father Louis deplores the flight of hundreds of young Christian men from Karakosh to Turkey and Greece. "There are no young men left," he says. "The girls will be old maids." The priest blames what he calls "the Christian countries" who overthrew Saddam Hussein for the plight of Iraq's Christians. "It's your fault, you Europeans and Americans," he says. "You don't think about us; only about petrol."
Lara Marlowe
DARFUR: Waiting in vain for rescue
Earlier this year I met a woman who had walked with her children for several days before reaching the safety of GOAL's camp in Northern Darfur. She was traumatised both by the gruelling and dangerous journey she had just completed but also by the terrible tragedy that had befallen her family. She had not eaten in three days and she was distraught about the condition of her surviving children.
Her husband was dead, killed by the Janjaweed and one of her sons was missing. She wondered whether any help was coming from outside and if this nightmare would ever end. I didn't have the heart to tell her the answer was no.
There is an overwhelming case for at least 10,000 to20,000 troops to keep the Janjaweed at bay. Instead 300 inexperienced and ill- equipped African Union troops have been deployed to police an area the size of France.
Never has anything moved me as profoundly as the scenes I witnessed in Darfur.
The parched landscape was punctuated by burned out and abandoned villages, the charred remains of thousands of huts. In Kutum where GOAL has been working since January, of all the places to seek shelter this must surely be the worst imaginable.
For almost two years the people of Darfur have been bombed from the air by the Sudanese armed forces and subjected to attacks by raiding parties of armed militiamen, called Janjaweed, riding in from the desert on camels and horses. They have been driven from their homes, forced off their land and driven into the wilderness. Many thousands of the men and boys have been murdered while women and girls have endured multiple rapes and torture.
Stripped of their meagre possessions, many thousands of them have made long journeys in search of escape. Perhaps half a million of them have found their way through the desert and across the border into neighbouring Chad where they have been put up in camps and looked after by aid agencies.
Ten times as many as this however are marooned in the shifting sands of Darfur desperately hoping that they will be rescued before they succumb to the many dangers that confront them.
At every turn I saw women and children, the absence of men and boys was immediately noticeable.The first sign of trouble in a village was the distant hum of aircraft which was the approach of the Sudanese air force bombers.
The bombing was followed by raids from the Janjaweed who set fire to houses and killed anyone that had not already fled. As the villagers crept back to retrieve anything they could they were rounded up and made to suffer ill treatment and abuse.
A woman I spoke to told me that she had lost her husband and two of her children in the bombing and then when the janjaweed swooped in they had raped her and made off with her 12 year old daughter.
These are the forgotten people, the expendable pawns in a deadly game of international politics.
Security Council members have allowed their own national interests to prevent them from fulfilling their duty of care to the people of Darfur. GOAL is attempting to provide 40,000 families (240,000 people) in the Jebel Mara area of Western Darfur with seeds. These families have lost their entire crops due to the conflict and drought. Once again, it is being left up to aid agencies such as GOAL to deal with the resulting human misery. The international community needs to come to its senses and realise that it has failed the vulnerable of this world.
John O'Shea
BESLAN: No toy guns or soldiers
The Bzarova family will be having a quiet Christmas this year in Beslan - quite literally. In previous years, Fatima, her husband Tamerlan and their sons Zaur (18) and Soslan (17) would go out on the streets to join a cacophony of noise from singing, fireworks and gunshots as the local menfolk fired pistols and rifles into the air. Not this year, following the siege in a local school in which more than 330 hostages died.
"This year the noise would frighten the children. Some children were taken to Israel for free holidays by the authorities there. But they were given a firework display and they were terrified," says Fatima.
You would be hard-pressed to know it was Christmas this year in Beslan. The decorations that cover other towns in Russia are almost completely absent. "The city is still in sadness, people do not forget. The city does not look very Christmassy. We are worried about another terrorist act."
Beslan's population is a mixture of Orthodox Christians and pagans, an ancient religion that predates Christianity and worships gods it believes live in water, woodland and the sky. The Christians hold services on January 7th, the Orthodox Christmas, and by tradition the big feast for all the town is on New Year's Eve.
Vadim, the husband of Fatima's niece, Irina, was executed by the terrorists in the school siege.
Irina's own mother lives in Italy, and because Irina works, she drops off her four-year-old daughter, Regina, at Fatima's house each day.
Fatima lives in one of three small apartment buildings facing onto a communal garden; from these buildings, nine people died in the school massacre. One man lost his wife, daughter and son.
"We are not really in a celebration mood," says Fatima. Nevertheless, celebrations will be held for one reason - the town's children. Adults are concerned to give joy to the rest of the town's youngsters, hundreds of whom were left traumatised either by being in the siege or because of the loss of family or friends.
The town will hold a New Year party in the Palace of Culture on New Year's Day. It features a Christmas tree, called a New Year tree, and also a Santa Claus, called the "Snow Father". On New Year's Day they will organise a party for local children and hand out sweets and soft toys - but no toy guns or soldiers.
As usual, Fatima's family will eat home-baked meat and cheese pies on New Year's Eve, toasting the New Year with local, sweet champagne.
But the town has a second problem that impacts hard on the first: poverty. The war raging in nearby Chechnya has seen what little investment there was dry up. Jobs are scarce, Tamerlan is out of work.
"Life is hard now, there is no money and no work," says Fatima. "All anyone talks about here is how they can get away, to Poland or Bulgaria or Italy, to get work."
Chris Stephen
CAPE TOWN: 'We don't do that cooking and stuff'
Up to now the Sibara family has been living in a shack at the Imizamo Yethu township on the outskirts of Cape Town in South Africa. Now, just coming up to Christmas, they have the keys to a brand new three-bedroom house, built by volunteer labour from Ireland as part of the township housing project led by Dublin philanthropist and businessman Niall Mellon.
The Sibara family is one big happy smile these days. Their mother Sheila radiates joy as she talks about moving into 7361 Popo Molefe Avenue in Imizamo Yethu. She and her husband Cairan are Catholics, but are steeped in African tradition, and both are herbal healing practitioners.
Sheila sits on the floor in the traditional fashion as she explains how there has never been a Christmas quite like it. "We feel very happy, really." The children are happy too: "When you are living in a shack, it's not really a big open space." Sheila is particularly happy at the prospect of having an indoor bathroom, which will be a big improvement on the facilities, or rather lack of them, under shanty town conditions.
"In our new house, you just go straightaway to the bathroom, run off the water and have a bath."
She points to her two daughters, Thuliswa (20) and Oluhle (17), who are standing shyly nearby. Thuliswa finished school last year and wants to be a fashion designer while Oluhle still has two years of secondary school left to go.
They can't wait to move out of the shack and into their smart new abode. "At last I will have my own bedroom," says Thuliswa. Oluhle also plans to have a separate room. Everything will be wonderful, they say.
They saw the house going up, built by volunteers from Ireland who gave up their free time and came over in their hundreds on special trips arranged by Niall Mellon. His housing project is about to get €250,000 in official development aid from the Irish Government.
The Sibaras don't know a lot about Ireland and show considerable sympathy when they hear about weather conditions back home at Christmas time, such a contrast with the glorious conditions in Cape Town.
There won't be a big Christmas dinner with turkey and plum pudding. "Ours is kind of different from yours," says Thuliswa, "because you guys normally have a family dinner. With us, we do get together but we don't do that cooking and stuff. We just sit and chill."
Sometimes they throw a party - so would they have a party in their new house? "Definitely, sure."
Deaglán de Bréadún
JERUSALEM: 'To celebrate you need permission?'
Christian tourists strolling through the burnished stone-paved streets of Jerusalem's Old City are likely to be accosted by increasingly desperate store owners trying to entice them with their festive wares. But the Arab Christian Razzouk brothers are too proud and old-fashioned for that. Instead, the siblings sit stoically in their half-empty shop amid their stock of Holy Land souvenirs, drinking tea and talking politics.
Christmas time in the land of Jesus's birth used to herald the merry jingle of the cash register for this family-run business. But today their shop is mostly empty, a victim of the slump in tourism caused by the intifada, or Palestinian uprising against Israeli occupation, now in its fifth year.
"Every year there are fewer and fewer tourists," says Anton, the younger brother, sipping on a cup of sweet black tea..
"The political situation is directly linked to the tourist situation. When there are problems, even in Gaza, then we have problems. The counter-effects come on our heads. Some tourists will not come even because there are problems in Baghdad. God bless your soul, Iraq is a thousand miles from here, but they see the problems on TV and they link it."
The Razzouk family used to own seven stores in the old city but gradually sold them all off over the past 15 years, and now are reduced to their one small shop on the edge of the Old City's Christian quarter, opposite the King David Citadel.
They recently removed the name plaque from above the shop because they could no longer afford the annual municipal charge of 500 shekels (around €100) for the sign.
Yet the native Jerusalemites continue their business, chatting to stray tourists in the fluent English and French they learned at a Catholic De La Salle Brothers school in the years after the creation of the Jewish state of Israel in 1947.
While Christian pilgrims who travel thousands of miles can visit religious sites throughout the Holy Land, the dwindling number of Palestinian Christians in Israel and the territories are often denied access due to travel restrictions enforced by the Israeli authorities. Christians living in the West Bank city of Ramallah cannot worship in Jerusalem without obtaining a permit from the Israeli authorities.
The Razzouk brothers have to apply annually to the Israeli authorities for permits to attend midnight Christmas Mass at the Church of the Nativity in the West Bank town of Bethlehem, the reputed birthplace of Jesus.
"Can you imagine that to celebrate Christmas you need permission?" asks Samir incredulously. "Where in the world does that exist?"
"As long as there is not a feeling that there is real peace, this is a fake Christmas. It's not only the financial problem, it's the lack of security and peace," adds Anton.
Nuala Haughey
NEW YORK: 'The pain never goes away'
New York fireman Sean Tallon was killed at the World Trade Center on 9/11. His family is on a long road to healing, and this year has been a very significant step. Sean's sister, Rosaleen, had her first son, and she named him Sean.
"Before this year, I just wasn't ready for it. But I am so glad his name is Sean, it's a blessing for us," says Rosaleen's mother, Eileen, originally from Co Kildare.
The family is also busy preparing a crib in their garden, along with a local grotto that carries many mementos of Sean Tallon's life.
A conservative Catholic family, the Tallons also celebrated the re-election of president Bush, whom they hope will help pro-life causes and appoint conservative judges to the US Supreme Court.
The family strongly supports the Iraq war, and Eileen believes that many in the West have deliberately neglected their moral duty to overthrow tyranny, using talk of peace as a way of settling for material comfort.
"We all prayed for the re- election of President Bush and our prayers were answered," says Eileen. "We are praying he will do more to help pro-life causes here in the US and that peace will come soon to Iraq. When you look at the torture rooms they found and the killing of that Irish aid worker, these people really are evil. If America sat back, Saddam Hussein would have passed on power to his sons and the whole thing would have continued. I just don't see how people can accept that."
Sean, a marine reservist, would most likely have served in Iraq. "His friends have now come back and none of them were harmed, thank God. They have been a great comfort to us at all times. I think when you lose your own son you become much more sensitive to the suffering of war," says Eileen.
A visit by a Kildare delegation to Sean's fire station also helped the family this year, an occasion at which Rosaleen played both the US and Irish national anthems on the accordion.
Eileen breaks down as she recalls the pain of hearing a fire truck go by the house, as happened recently when a fire took hold of four buildings on a nearby shopping street.
"We're sad, but we also have happy times. You battle on and keep yourself busy but the pain never goes away. The best way to say it is that you learn to live inside the pain.
"I have faith in the Lord above and I know Sean is up there with Him. That is what is keeping us going though all of this."
Sean O'Driscoll
MADRID: 'I just wished that I would get out alive'
"I just wished that day that I would get out of it alive. I remember it being such a primary need. Now I just wish that next year will be a better one than this one. Nothing more." Zahira Obaya Guzman (22) is from Tarifa, a coastal town in the south of Spain that faces Morocco. Two years ago she moved to Madrid and found work in one of the city's fashion stores. On the morning of March 11th, everything was last-minute as she struggled to catch the 8 a.m. train.
But within 10 minutes of boarding, her carriage was blown apart. Zahira lost an eye and suffered facial disfiguration. Her new eye will not be fitted until February.
But her hair's-breadth escape from death has given her reason to celebrate her young life. "I love going out, being with people, feeling what's going on around me. I know there are many families who will be grieving people like me this Christmas. And that just drives me with the feeling that nobody will take this from me now.
"I already notice a huge difference. Just recently I began to recognise my own face again, my features. And I've begun to take care of myself; I've started wearing make-up. I even wear perfume now."
That might sound like morning minutiae for most, but for Zahira there is a lot more to it, because the simple task of attending to herself would bring her right back to March.
"I had let myself go because I just couldn't look at myself in the mirror. There are so many memories, and they would just come flooding back. And I'm still learning to deal with them. There are still times when I catch a glimpse of myself unaware and it jolts me back to reality."
Reality also means living with the fact that for many people she is the epitome of that March morning. "I know they mean well, but they treat me with prudence. I remind them of what happened. The dynamic is sober, but I just want people to treat me they way they used to."
And there are others who don't think of her at all, she feels. "So many people died that day, and so many of us were injured, yet the politicos only talk politics, about who won the [March 14th] elections, who lost and why. I just want them to remember us. To take a look at us. To tell us why March 11th happened. Yes, we're the survivors but that also means that we have to live with this for the rest of our lives."
Zahira is an Arabic name. It means the one who blossoms.
Fiona Forde