However, my fingers want to tell you about my "holiday experience" and since they do the writing on my behalf, I'll let them do the talking:
I do not have the "holiday spirit". Call me cynical but ever since I graduated from going round the neighbourhood, knocking on people's doors and demanding my "Merry Christmas" to taking part in the cooking process and having annoying little kids knock on my own door; I lost the holiday spirit. These days I sleep through the holidays and eat till my toilet cries out whenever I pass by.
There was something about this particular holiday though. First of all I was knee deep in work that simply refused to recognise the holidays. Secondly, I had made up my mind not to take part in the celebrations because truthfully, I expected to hear stories about bomb blasts. And in all honesty, I'd rather hear the stories than be a part the experience.
I stayed home on Christmas morning as my family went to church and kept my fingers crossed, expecting their return. Al-Jazeera reported the Bomb blast while my family was in church. I missed the first broadcast so like every other Nigerian not resident in Madalla, I had a hard time figuring out if the church was in Bwari or some other part of Abuja. What we could all agree upon however, was that there was a bomb blast and we had photo evidence on our blackberry phones to confirm the event; Hands up if you have the picture of the unconscious girl in the tattered, blood stained pink dress.
I will summarize the rest of the Christmas as thus; Eat – Sleep – Wake up –Eat – Sleep – Curse the Government – Eat – Debate the existence of "Boko Haram" – Annoying visitors – Silly relatives – "Merry Christmas" Children – Eat – Toilet wars – sleep.
My anger built up over the days and there was the occasional tear drop from thoughts on the state of the nation. I would rant on facebook and to whoever cared to listen. Some of my rants I almost regret, some can stay and haunt the offenders that be.
That was my glorious Christmas.
Like most Nigerians, my mood had been set for the New Year; I cringed at the sound of "knock outs" and "bangers"; In a country of bomb blasts, why would a loud catastrophic sound excite a bunch of teenagers? Insensitive if you ask me.
I had sworn off the New Year celebrations; I did not want to see fireworks, I did not want to take part in any countdown and most of all, I didn't want to be found dead or alive in a church (burn me at the stake but I am not the only one with a phobia for bombs…Thank you very much).
My family on the other hand had their own plans and I was dragged kicking and screaming to the church. The service was lovely save for the occasional "watching my back" look. I would sing, dance, clap and subconsciously look over my shoulders for the man in the flowing gown, dropping a black leather bag. As soon as we said Goodbye to Jesus who is a week off his birthday celebrations; I made a dash for the car and luckily made it home in one piece. We thank God.
The horrible 2011 had finally come to an end and I was singing the Happy New Year tune. It was in my heart, flowing through my veins; "Happy New Year… Happy New Year". I sang this song all night into the wee hours of the morning. I sang the song while Al-Jazeera reported that Our President had declared a State Of Emergency in four states of the federation. I sang the song while I read on my facebook page that 51 people had been gunned down in a community in Ebonyi State. And continued singing further into the day until the rumour broke; FUEL SUBSIDY HAS BEEN REMOVED. My song stopped! Abruptly!! Immediately!!! What the hell was I singing for? How new is this year? Isn't this already proving to be a recycled year?
I looked at my phone and a message was waiting, it read "Happy New Year". This was my response:
"Sir,We should say Hopeful New Year… Happy is a big word in this country"
I say the same to you my fellow Nigerians because we need all the hope in the world…
HOPEFUL NEWYEAR!!!
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