Ever since I was a child, the month of December has always been the most cherished and eventful of all the other eleven months for double reasons, festivity of my birthday on the 14th and the Yuletide.
Funnily enough, even though there was no cake thickly and artistically plastered with icing sugar most times (most kid back then preferred it to the real cake ), there was always a remarkable show of affection radiating from every corner of home. First was my mother who incessantly snuck up on me in the wee hours just so she could be the first person to sing the typical "Happy Birthday" tune, which she always sang in an opera simulated voice. I found that annoying sometimes. Secondly, during the entire day, I was exempted from all house chores, and received extra piece of meat for "providing everyone with the meal and drinks", as my father would put it, even though I didn't contribute a dime. I was always contented.
Christmas and all the frenzy that comes with it follow. Every kid was obsessed by holiday in the village more than gifts from their parents; the visits to the stream, unrestricted wander on sinking sands, tree climbing, social visits (parents didn't expect to be informed about), fruit gathering, screams of "d'eje" (my local dialect for welcome) repeatedly to every wine-tapper and woman laden with bundles of firewood/basketful of vegetables/cocoyam/palm fruits/cassava until they're exhausted from responding, the smell of a goat's fleece as flames peeled it, the marvelous sight of it all, roasting corns by the fireside, cocoyam cum palm oil feasts, scaring ourselves to pangs of panic with mysterious folk tales at nights, money-spinning home to home cultural dance displays, and so on. Some momentous experiences just weren't exchangeable with material goods. Or maybe it was just us.
It was the period to curry favour with parents and to try as much as possible to stay in their good books. It was the time the normally truant sibling answered the door and served lunch, while the grudging one proffered to polish obviously clean shoes. We employed every manipulative tool to have our parents fall for our cajolery. If they were considerate enough to tell us what we wanted to hear and save us from all the anxiety sooner than later (later was always the case), we would run off gloating to our mates who weren't as lucky.
However, times change.
As an adult, the euphoria waned greatly save for birthday anticipations. The sensational tradition stayed put.
I became more aware of the vulnerability of my hair and skin to the Harmattan, the feeling of hollowness created by the invasion of my coziness by the furious-whistling wind, the desperation of having to say goodbye to rain, more concernedly, the planned inflation in the prices of goods/services and the rampancy of crimes in this time of the year.
I can revel in the magical belatedness of Harmattan as long as it lasts, but day in day out, we're awakened to one gruesome story of ritual killing to that of kidnapping. We start receiving admonitions from loved ones about plying certain routes, responding to queer individuals, keeping late nights, being attentive of shady cabs/buses. "This is Christmas o", they'd usually wrap up their sermons with.
I have never received as much warnings in a year than I have these past few days.
And then, there are price rises in the cost of goods and services. It became a course of action for me to abstain from shopping on Christmas periods because;
a. I loiter from stall to stall fraught with options and indecision about what to pay for. This is always bound to happen most times because my Christmas shopping aren't necessarily prompted by needs, but just for the hell of it.
b. I still end up paying a great deal for impractical items.
c. I finally realize I CANNOT put up with traders' cheekiness and overconfidence (especially in markets) anymore. Most of them are allergic to price haggling.
A lot of times, I ask why. Why are people more criminal minded and mean spirited at this time? And as usual, I always get the "this is Christmas" reply, a misconception that makes me sick to the teeth.
It saddens me that Christmas has become so inversely over-hyped that its significance has vanished beneath these acts of dishonesty and greediness.
Christmas epitomizes generosity, kindness, love, charity, humanity and mercy as demonstrated by God by giving us His only and beloved son Jesus Christ for the salvation of mankind.Therefore we ought to reflect all that Christ stands for; patience with one another everywhere ( on the road, in the mall, at home), contentment and gratitude for our many blessings (letting go of the attachment to have everything ), forgiveness for all wrongs inflicted on us, reconnection with family (far and near) and friends. This is Christmas.
In addition to striving to practice the above sermon this Christmas, I'll utilize the uninterrupted power supply (generally during the season) and watch lots of good movies (something that has become a luxury lately), savor the tranquility that follows the exodus of city dwellers to the rural areas (moments to stroll comfortably in the middle of the road), eeeeeeeeeat, watch some EPL actions while I sip on all the 'sipables' and then eat some more.
Do you already have plans for the Yuletide? What are they?
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