Desperate for the Christmas spirit

You see, ever since I left high school, Christmas - that end-of-the-year season of joy and laughter that Yorubas call “Feferity” (with the abundant food at home and from neighbours, and music and light) - has steadily become unappealing.

Last year, I thought staying at home and watching the local TV stations (those delightfully clichéd “I want to make a request to my muuuummyyy, to my daaaaddyyy and to Aunty Helen, our house girl” broadcasts, with “Father Christmas” lurking ominously behind) would help bring back those memories. I didn’t even go to church because my congregation doesn’t do all that Christmas Day stuff. Bored out of my skin though, in the night, I decided to join friends for one of those yearly praise jams.

By the time I was through praising the God of Christmas in the midst of “true believers” however, my Nokia E71 had changed hands. Stolen, on Christmas day! Good tidings of great joy for someone else, obviously. It would have been better if I had stayed at home. So this year, I have methodically planned my Christmas. I have been planning it for weeks in fact.

I will worship at a church with a colourful Christmas service. I will have many good laughs with my mother. I will aggressively visit my favourite aunts and their kitchens, and, in the evening, I will drive slowly by Ajose Adeogun to view the beautiful lights that Zenith Bank gave to Lagosians as a gift. I know my determination to be merry this Christmas no matter what the devil may say, still gives my friends something to talk about.

But, you see, the truth of the matter is rather simple: what I really have is a longing for those Christmas days when my father (who is late) and my mother (who will live forever) would take their seats in the sitting room I grew up in - smells of her rice and stew enveloping the entire apartment - and share delightful anecdotes, exchanging banters, while I listened in awe and couldn’t wait to grow up. Without a doubt, those were the days.

Four days ago, I bought a Christmas tree for my small mini-flat; complete with lights, corny Christmas music, and those fake boxes of gifts underneath. My friends don’t understand what is going on. But my mission is straightforward: I am looking for the Christmas spirit.