Titilayo Adeoye, truly has a lot of fun during Christmas and she shares a bit of her world with us in this entry. In between going out on Christmas mornings with bowls to sing and throwing bangers in Baba Oloye’s compound you would enjoy her story.
Christmas is when the craziness in my village people shows up. They sleep, sweep, greet, gossip, drink, dream, eat belleful and shit for body. NO. Christmas is when the jingling of good tidings is heralded. YES. Christmas is seeing Santa. Which Santa? My village clown Santa sipping kai-kaion from the left hand and puffing tobacco on his burnt lips.
Christmas is when killing chickens is my hobby until I start seeing the chickens’ cricket legs chasing me in my dreams with the same red knife I used to spill their blood. YES.
Christmas is when I eat plenty party jollof rice and chicken legs. Christmas is when a new song is heard on the radio. Christmas is when I rock the Mary-Amaka gown Umi got for me, fanning the floor of the backyard with a pointed pink high heels shoe.
Christmas is when Gafari and I go out early in the morning with a big bowl singing and chanting at strangers hoping to get a token to buy tofu at the central market. Christmas is when I tag along with Mama Moladun to the village square by wheeling bags of rice to eat belleful.
Christmas is when Sikirat paints her lips with red wine to carol nights at the Ghetto’s park and returns screaming at the top of her voice disturbing my dreams. Christmas is when Mufiu and I smoke wee-wee until we weewee on our pants. Christmas is when pot-bellied politicians share foodies with their pictures on it. Christmas. YES. Christmas is when I throw knock-outs and bangers inside Baba Oloye’s compound to distract him from banging Risi wildly. Christmas is when I get new boyfriends in the church to chill with under the moon. Christmas, I danced and danced until my legs danced me to my dreamland.
Christmas is when my pastor’s teeth grazes his tongue as he struggles to speak Queen’s English just to impress the homecoming congregation. Christmas, when the choir sings ancient carol songs in oversize garments bursting my ears with their screeching voices. Christmas, when home is crowded and messy leaving me with daunting chores.
Oh Christmas, is when I caress my soul as I celebrate sweet Baby Jesus.
About Titilayo Adeoye
Adeoye Titilayo Aderonke is a writer, and her creative gems have appeared or are forthcoming on African Writer, Kalahari Reviews, Avocet Journal #204, The Sparkle Writer’s Hub, Bakwa Magazine and elsewhere. She edits for Kraft Books, Ibadan, Nigeria.