A Deregulated Father Christmas

 

 

I can smell Christmas in the air. But it’s a truly confusing scent. Sometimes, it smells like “okrika;” other times I smell “ready made” wears from a decent boutique. Then, when I’m so hungry, there is that aroma of a well made stew. No, I think the fried rice comes stronger. But I hate rice. To me it’s just an appetizer. So, I swallow harder when the whiff of “edikangikong” invade my olfactory ducts. 

 

I know what the problem is. This thing called Christmas has caught me at a very bad point. And since I have no money either for clothes or special food, my imagination plays tricks on me. Really, my head is “not correct.”

 

Christmas is a time Christians all over bleed themselves dry, just to celebrate a season. The few weeks leading up to Christmas are the biggest shopping periods of the year. And sadly, even though I’m a free thinker, I find myself under pressure. People around me want new clothes. And they want to eat rice and stew with bigger lumps of meat. It doesn’t matter that for over eleven months of a year, we drank garri and dressed in tatters. In fact, that, they insist, is the more reason the Christmas must be treated differently. They are ready to eat on December 25 and starve later. To them, Christmas is different. 

 

To me, it is just another day. As a journalist, I don’t even enjoy the rest implied in the “holiday.” I do not know about rice as “special food” for Christmas. I am no chicken. Give me “eba” or “akpu,” with a relatively “good” soup, thank you! I may do the merry on Christmas, when Jesus tells me he was actually born on December 25. “May,” because even Christ did not celebrate Christmas. And, even my own birthday that I’m sure of, I do not celebrate. Ditto the birthdays of icons of the various religious groups: Mohammed’s, Budha’s, Confusian’s, etc. I do not celebrate my mother’s and my late father’s. So, like Apostle Anselm Madubuko would say, what’s the big deal about Christmas?  

 

My real problem, however, is that we’ve unwittingly brought unnecessary pressure on ourselves, all in attempt to get favour from God. We do as if Jesus is IBB, Obasanjo, Atiku, the governors or any other person in power – who would deny us favour if we do not send them congratulatory messages on their birthdays. The effect is that, for those of us on deregulated existence; those of us without “monetization,” we are forced to die before our time. As we struggle to satisfy near relations and the society. Where do I get the money to spend just for one day as if other days are not worth living for? And when the celebration is over, everything is empty – pockets, bank account, food store, etc. 

 

Those who insist on “celebrating” Christmas are only prisoners of foreign tradition. Yet, the same people would kick against their very way of life. Christian leaders in 336 A.D. only fixed December 25, in an attempt to eclipse a popular pagan holiday in Rome (Saturnalia) that celebrated the winter solstice. Initially, Christmas involved a simple mass. But over time, a large number of traditions have been absorbed into the celebration in the process.

 

Christmas, originally, was meant to be a period of sharing goodwill, happiness and gifts. The tradition of gifts seems to have started with the Maggi. Matthew recorded in the Bible that the three wise men “presented him (baby Jesus) with gifts.” Yet, people were not really in the habit of exchanging elaborate gifts until late in the 1800s. In Nigeria, it is worse this year.  Gift shops are out of business, for no one gives even greeting cards, anymore. The deregulation bug has bitten the masses so hard that even Father Christmas has lost his generousity. 

 

Over the centuries, whatever the name or image, in whatever country, Father Christmas typified gift giving, a central focus of the Christmas tradition. Different regions adopted different names. In France, he was known as “Pere Noel.” Germany knew him as “Weihnachtsmann”(Christmas man). When the communists took over in Russia and outlawed Christianity, he became “Grandfather Frost. To the Dutch, he was “Sinterklaas,” which eventually was mispronounced in America as “Santa Claus.” To the English, he became “Father Christmas.” But they all had long white beards and carried gifts for the children. 

 

Today, in Nigeria, Father Christmas has been deregulated! As my colleague, Segun Fatuase, would say, children are afraid of visiting the grotto these days. Why? Because they come out with nothing to be happy about. Some even come out crying, perhaps lamenting the compulsory N200 per head. Imagine! A family of five would spend N1, 000 to get a pencil stick each. How annoying!

 

 With deregulation, everyone now stages Santa. But like fuel stations, they collect more and give little. A sign that even the Santa is poor!  He has nothing to give, anymore. Father Christmas is hungry!  They even come, these days, leaner than a broom stick. Santa used to be few and far between; fat, robust and rich. Now, everyone buys the mask in a traffic jam and bingo! The deregulated Father Christmas comes with flattened bags, even before the supposed gifts are doled out. And, even the red-and-white suit, a traditional bishop’s robe, actually won by the original Santa, Saint Nicholas, is changing colour. Santas now wear any colour. Only the white beard identifies them.

 

Father Christmas wasn’t always the way he is today. There’s a legend that he was a kindly old man. An old Nordic folktale said he was a magician who punished naughty children and rewarded good ones with presents.  But there are stronger testimonies that he was actually a local priest in Myra (today’s Turkey), about 300A.D. Born an only child of a wealthy family, he was orphaned at an early age when both parents died of plague. He reportedly gave his wealth away to those in need, especially children. After his death he was elevated to sainthood. Eventually the Catholic Church started celebrating Christmas and St. Nicholas was incorporated into the season.       

 

Today’s deregulated Father Christmas is a sign of the times. The “wishful scents” hitting my nostrils tells of an empty pocket that can’t be stretched. Hence, this Christmas would only be celebrated in our memories! 

 

 

• First published in Saturday Sun of  Dec, 20, 2003