MY CHILDHOOD CHRISTMAS MEMORIES

Back then, the chilly and dusty harmattan wind that blew up every kind of particle on the dusty ground of Oluyinka Dada Street, U-Turn, Lagos was a sign of good things to come. Then, the only thing on my mind was the Christmas clothes and toys. Those items that made me feel on top of the world! It didn’t matter if it was a rubber shoe or a plastic radio. Like every other kid in the neighborhood, I just wanted to “make Iyanga” marching through the brown earth.

There were no excuses of recession – if there’s one, I never knew– Christmas clothes must be ready! I cannot come-and-go and carry last in the presence of Ify, Frank, Chiazor and the other kids. Lai lai! (Never!)

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It was a time of eating unabated. Time to “drag” the chicken intestines; it was the only part we were allowed to eat before the other parts were served. We had to go through the rigours of cleaning it up ourselves. Afterwards, we threw it into the pot to boil with the other parts. When it was ready, we'd run to a corner of the house and sentence the chicken’s intestines to everlasting judgment in nature’s warmer.

The memories of how mother killed a bird which will later jerk back to life is still very fresh in my memory. It's just like it happened yesterday. I have never seen a scene like that before or after that time. It happened on the eve of Christmas, in the evening around past 4.00pm. We were all gathered in the kitchen when it happened. We witnessed as mother's knife cut deep into the bird's neck. There's no questioning that. We saw blood gush out from it's neck and also witnessed an end to it's long resistance as it lay lifeless on the big bowl. But something happened! As soon as mother poured the hot water (which had been boiling minutes before the bird met with the knife) on the seemingly lifeless bird, it jerked back to life and sprinted a little round the kitchen before mother caught up with it and a more proper and final job was done. It was quite an emotional moment. I still remember and imagine that scene up till this day whenever I witness the killing of a bird.

Before the day, I and my friends will plan the houses to visit and the shortest routes to them to “dash” us money! Those were the times I became a geographer, giving the direction to every house; a time manager, allotting the amount of time to stay in a particular place; an accountant, sharing the “dashed money” with other kids; a good child, because I obeyed the GOLDEN RULE from MAMA: “Thank you ma, we have eaten” even though it was sometimes disobeyed due to the worms running marathon in my stomach; embarked on another Great Trek, with the kilometers covered (even the Great Trek is a played-down comparism to my Christmas visitation).

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“Seek ye first the money and other gifts will follow” that was the code engraved in our hearts then. Once the crisp naira notes were handed to us, it didn’t matter what came next. The owner of the house will forever have his name starched in our hearts when he hands over glittering wads of mint to us. Mr. Dada the Mortician was our best friend: aside handing us the much desired naira notes, he'd also treat us to a very nice meal.

Those were the ones that knew WASSUP. Blessed are they because even Christ, the reason de’tairre for the season, said that it is not good to throw the children’s meat to the dogs!

Abi nor be so Bros J talk am? Lol

We didn't know Santa. Santa was for folks staying in the rich neighborhood. What we knew was "Father Christmas"....

... But "Father Christmas" was not so generous. He would come to our schools to give gifts to only those who payed for those gifts. Lol

So the money we gathered up from neighbors came in handy. We used part of the money to buy 'knockout' and others to gamble for balloon (we always eyed the biggest one, but I don't know why no one ever wins it. If you know, help a brother, biko!)

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Of course, there were those who just didn’t show that it was time for the season. They wore long faces looking like a Yoruba masquerade known as EGUNGUN! Even when they faked happiness when we say welcome at the door. Once they told us “E PADA WA NI ODUN TUNTUN” (COME IN NEW YEAR), we knew that our village people have succeeded!

That New Year ran like a snail and when it came, it only ended in locked doors with statements that touch the heart like: "I have done Christmas for everybody with the money I had, why didn’t you come then?"

Las las, if-you-too-argue, they'd tell us: “You guys should come during Easter!” But thunder was rare then, we didn't know much about it, unlike now. We would have sent one from the Head Bridge to do the needful. Hehehe

Watching the older males in their baggy jeans and boots, and the females regaled in their flowing dress sharing "Christmas Rice" from door-to-door capped the beauty of the Christmas season. More so, the ever-melodious sounds from Tony Tetuila and Olu Maintain (Hip Hop Kings of those days), accompanied by the rhythmic dancing steps (which are now old school) and the dust it generated, were all testament to the season.

Oh, how can I forget how Ode almost got drowned and swept away by the raging waters of Kuramo beach. How lucky is Mr. Okey? Oh, very lucky! Had the boy drowned that day, the kind hearted and clear conscience man would have been accused of taking the young boy to the beach for rituals. Typical African conclusion!

As I sat, scribbling this piece, I can only reaffirm the biblical assertion that “there is time for everything!

Even though my mum is still “keeping” some of the money I made then, as per bank CEO, and wouldn't return it till Jesus comes, Christmas as a child was fun filled. I don’t know about you!


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