Back in time (2)

Christmas is here and I can't help but remember how it used to be. For different people, the season has different meanings; for us, it meant hard labour mixed with fun and stupidity. School normally closed on the 16th for the Christmas holidays. While our mates talked at length about how they would either travel out of the country or watch movies till thy kingdom come, all we thought about was how we would process palm fruits and kemel before we 'may' consider travelling to the village. It was never an easy task. For almost a week, we would bend over heaps and heaps of palm kernel separating them from their shells. Little wonder we didn't develop hunchbacks but we Kept our eyes on the price - Christmas day!

On the 24th,we set out for the village in dad's Volkswagen beetle. Mum sat at the back seat with my 5 siblings and my uncle. Dad drove while l sat on a kitchen stool between him and the Christmas goat, bag of rice and our belongings packed in different colors of zipless Ghana-must-go bags and bagco sacks (Don't ask me where the front seat went.) I juggled between keeping my tiny legs in place so that dad didn't crush them when the stiff gear was being changed, steadying the kitchen stool so I didn't fall off and also making sure that the goat didn't jump on us all. Multitasking!

Immediately we got to the villa, amidst greetings "Dad, can we kill mama Emeka now?" l timidly asked. I knew the time was wrong but so much was at stake. Ogbonna had given me that task of asking once we arrived the village and I was fully prepared to do as he asked. But dad ignored me and continued with his pleasantries. 

"Dad, can we kill mama Emeka now? " I asked again. Still no reply.

"We must kill mama Emeka now" ' screamed at him in my little effort to be heard!

"Don't be silly, Ora!" dad replied with a huge frown on his face. Some of the villagers that had come to say hello started backing out from the compound. l heard one ask another in something she thought was a whisper if it was the mama Emeka that lives near the church that we wanted to kill. (not that I blame them. That mama Emeka was the most annoying woman I've ever met) Fotunately for her, I was only talking about the goat who for reasons l can't remember, we've decided to name mama Emeka.

l looked over to Ogbonna and shrugged (meaning that I've tried my possible best) But wait, before you start thinking that I love goat meat so much, I dont. The problem is that we'd been rearing this goat since January (which was done every year) We had the responsibility of feeding and keeping her safe from goat thieves and also making sure that she didn't run away. Killing her immediately was the only assurance that we'll eat meat on Christmas day.

The much awaited day finally came. Happy Christmas, I wish you the same, The same to you ....were the most frequently used sentences. Truth be told, back then I didn't care that our Saviour was born. I had my mind on simple goals- wear my Christmas dress, eat rice and meat to my heart's content and walk around the village visiting enemies, friends, witches and wizards that wouldl 'do' Christmas for us.

lt was 12pm and I had checked everything on my checklist but going out. I got ready 2 years before anyone else and just when I thought that my heart will burst with excitement, mum declared that l had to stay at home cos the sun was too high. That was how I started crying while my siblings begged in solidarity. We ended up spending 30 minutes of the valuable time we would have spent roaming the village and beyond begging and crying. Thank God it worked.

Na so we baff up. That year had a special addition to what we would normally wear. My uncle that worked in one of those dead breweries thought it wise to pack some Christmas promo goggles meant for clowns to us and we foolishly wore them feeling like ambassadors. The goggle had lemon green frames and pink lens. Haha! l can't imagine how silly we looked. Ankara made wears, colourful pair of canvas with all-colours-of  the-rainbow- lights and ambassador goggles to match.

We were 6! Ogbonna, Okwuchukwu, Egoonu, Obunna, Nnenna and I. I always walked somewhere in between them all to avoid beIng carried away by a vulture or eagle.

The first 10 minutes of our nomadic Christmas was so much fun. We were amongst the first to step out and you all know that is an added advantage in this business. First to come out gets all the money while the last gets all the rice and maybe some meat. Everyone had a lil something to get noticed at arrival - toy guns, knock outs, bangers, local made toy guns... We dint have any of those cos mum forbade any form of explosives. All we had were two whilte girls (back then, most people couldnt tell the ddifference from a distance). As sharp children, we would always ask other children coming out from a house if the occupants dish out rice or cash.

An hour into the journey, my toes came reporting. Release me! They were hot like Nsukka yellow pepper. Not that l blame them for hurting at such a crucial moment. As a sort of a rule, mum always bought me 2 shoe sizes  more than what i would normally wear cos my feet kept growing faster than usual. Brilliantly we would stuff in paper to make the shoe my size. The paper don grind my toes sotey.....

"Okwy, I want to remove my shoes" I said

"Why?" she asked

"Its paining me" I replied

She nodded and I took that as a go ahead. The feel of sand under my feet would have been lovely but it was fully heated up by the hot harmattan sun. I winced in pain as my feet touched the ground and jumped on my shoe and refused to walk. Obunna looked at me like wtf! Knowing how they would all scream at me, I quickly burst into tears and raised my hands towards Ogbonna stylishly pleading with him to carry me. He did and our journey continued. 

                           

I was tired. Can we go home already? I had 165 naira already which was way more than what I ever expected but I was at the mercy of Ogbonna. Going home would be at his order.

Finally, he decided that there was a house in the village we were yet to visit. The man lived apart from the rest inside one bush that nobody ever goes to. The pathway that led to his house was lined by all colours, shapes and sizes of shit but we were so determined to get something off him. Obu expressed his fear about going to see the man.

"He might cook and eat us" 

"I know he might but before he does, Nnenna and Egoonu would run home to call somebody" Ogbonna replied. Nne didnt say anything but the look on her face said "Thank God I would be the one running home."

Akirika received us very well. He was miserly, old and wretched so I wasnt surprised when he deeped into his pocket and brought out 50kobo which he offered to us. We didnt know if we should collect or not but we did. We thanked him and was about to leave when Nnenna asked "Do you have rice?" Na wa o. Rice no hungry you since na Akirika own you wan chop. Thankfully, he dint have any and we left.

We headed home with me on Ogbonna's back. I was so relaxed that I slept off. All of a sudden, gbam...I landed on the floor! I was so confused when I saw Ogbonna and Egonu fighting. I looked around and we weren't home yet.  Both kept talking to each other as they fought for something in Ogbonna's hand. Okwuchukwu and Obunna stood as spectators while Nnenna kept roaming the bushes. I was so shocked crying eluded me. I stood up and joined the spectators. And boom! A shot of banger went off setting Ego's skirt on fire. She fell on the floor and rolled all over while the rest except Nne (who kept searching for God-knows-what in the bush) poured sand on her. The fire did stop but not before it had consideraly burnt her skirt. Owwwk! Where did that come from? 

I dint ask cos I knew no one will answer me but I learnt that 'they' realised that we couldn't possibly share 50kobo amongst us and decided to use it to buy a pack of banger. Somehow Ogbo decided that he would be the one throwing while the rest of us watched. Egonu refused and that was how the fight started.

When we've all calmmed down, we decided to go home to face the wrath. Mumsy and popsy were engrossed in one gist but that didn't stop mum from noticing. 

"What happened to yor skirt and you (that was me) where are your pair of shoes?" she asked. I looked around but I couldn't find them. I looked lost and hoped that someone would help me out. Nobody did. They all had looks on their faces like the thought of knowing where my shoes were was a taboo. Nne finally spoke up "That was what I was looking for in the bush but none of you wanted to listen cos you were busy fighting over the banger that Akirika...Nne went on and on. After her beautiful 

naration, I was already near the front door ready to run off before mum's wrath started but surprisngly, she asked us to go clean up and change for dinner. She ended her sentence with a smile and "umu oma" (good children) 

For days, we were scared wondering when the beating will come. With every call of our name, we would jump. For over a week, we tip toed around the house, did everything right and whispered. Thinking about it now, what other purnishment could beat keeping the six of us calm for that long?