When you ask people their most dreaded day, chances are, that majority would say “The day I witness a fatal accident” or “The day I lose my parents.”

But if it’s the day you get raped by a “Naija Father Christmas “ as a 13year old. Then you’ve gotten not just a dreaded day. But also an eternal scarred Christmas.

It was a hazy morning. The December harmattan had filled the air and even my nose hurt from the intensity. There was so much work to do. There’s always so much to do on Christmas Day. But this year’s was different. Baami had just been made the new Baale of Iko Town and so there were many visitors in our house. I knotted the ends of my wrapper again, to prevent it from loosening, as I bent to resume my series of Plates washing. I needed to finish washing these round of plates, if I wanted to leave with Amaka by noon to attend the Christmas Party organized by the Town Headmaster.

The Iko Christmas Party was one that every Iko children and adolescents looked forward too. From the sonorous sounds of strings and drums to the wonderful contemporary dance that was done by the Headmaster students. Then, the Mother Mary and Baby Jesus drama. I wanted to join the Performers. Always wanted to. But Baami never agreed. He didn’t agree with the Headmaster’s beliefs. There was no Jesus who died for us or even saved us. The Obatala did that and so he wouldn’t allow me attend the Town Headmaster’s school. 

Hence, I had to sneak to even attend the Christmas party. I always told a lie. Two years ago, Amaka and I needed to harvest the yam on their farmland. Last year, we needed to fetch water from the stream for Iya Yejide, the town’s oldest widow. This year, Amaka had misplaced her head-tie at the the Town hall yesterday and we need to search for it today. I smiled in my heart as I said “O lord, forgive me”, just the way the Headmaster had taught us to do, whenever we did something wrong.

By afternoon, the sunlight diminished the haziness of the atmosphere. Visitors were still trooping in but we had more hands as their wives assisted Maami in the kitchen. I adjusted my iro as I informed Maami that I’ll be leaving with Amaka. Just then, Amaka walked in.

“Good afternoon ma,” she greeted as she kneeled.

“Good afternoon omo mi. How are your parents?”

“They are fine ma. They sent their regards”

“Tell them I’ve heard oo and help me to thank your mummy for that yam she brought for us last week. We are still enjoying them. Atinuke told me you misplaced your head-tie at the town hall yesterday. Always be careful with your things ehnn. “

“Yes ma, I will ma. Thank you ma”

“You are welcome, my dear. Atinuke, make sure you inform your father before you leave o and I’ll be expecting you both soon. Don’t stay too long”

“Alright Maami. I’ll do that now.” I said as I dashed into our living room to inform Baami. We were getting late and if I don’t hurry up , there might not be any front seats left for us.

We got to the party at the time right enough to save middle seats for ourselves. We were grateful for even that. Because this year, the crowd at Iko Christmas Party doubled. The headmaster added a feature to the event’s program, which was a Father Christmas. A man with long white artificial beards and a red and white costume, which held his potbelly. Although, the potbelly looked artificial too. At the end of the event, the Father Christmas had gifts for every children.

We all formed a queue as he shared all sorts of gifts. When we got close to the front line, Amaka sighted Madam Sisi, the town gossip. Immediately, we ran to hide. We couldn’t afford Baami knowing our secret. By the time she would go and we’d come out of our hideout, all the gifts had been shared and there was nothing left for us. There was no way we were going to leave like that, we burst into tears as we caught the attention of the Father Christmas. He tried to comfort Amaka and I as he reassured us that he still had gifts in his room, but one of us had to go with him. We agreed that I should go, since Amaka had volunteered to assist in cleaning and packing up after the event.

I followed the Father Christmas in anticipation, eager for what we were going to get. If only I knew. Minutes later, he dragged me into the room as he forced his way with me. No amount of pleas, cries or struggle would stop his thrusts. Until he was satisfied, like a predator who has had its full of its prey. Later, he handed  over two nylon of gifts to me.  I shivered with anger as I threw it across the room, grabbing my clothings and running out. Amaka found me at the discarded old thatch structure, where we used to play. She asked why my arms and legs were bruised and why I wasn’t with any gift. As I laid my head on her chest and cried my eyes out, I’d wonder which hurt the most. The throbbing pain between my legs or the gnashing pain in my heart. It certainly was the latter.

Fifteen years later, I’m in my living room, sipping a glass of wine, when my phone beeps. It’s a text from David, my colleague at work.

“What’s up Atinuke, You’re prepared for the program? Cause I’ll soon be at your place.”

Many years later and Christmas became the least thing I looked forward too. Year in year out, I spend the day getting drunk on my couch, attempting to push those bitter memories back. But each time, I’d wake up by midnight and the tears would begin. There was no way around it, my Christmas needed saving, so David had said, since he became my friend 8years ago.

He didn’t know what happened that lead to my despise for Christmas, but he knew one thing, it didn’t deserve to take an eternal joy from me. We were to attend a Christian hangout that was organized every Christmas Day. He claimed that was what I needed. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I needed anything at all. I packed my things to meet him outside as I heard his car honk.

It’s been one hour of being at this place, of seeing so many people gathered in one place for Christ. Of seeing them laugh and cheer and worship and dance like they had not even one single worry in the world. I desperately wanted that. I needed out from these turmoil of emotions in me. My solution laid in the words of the next man that would come on stage. He introduced himself as Mr. Solanke, simply a minister of God.

He has come to explain the real meaning of Christmas _ which is the birth of Christ. Christmas isn’t just a day that signifies the birth of Christ, it’s also a day that signifies how much God loves us, God loves me, that He sent His only son to the world for me. He talks about the love of God for me and how it has no height nor depth or even width. How no power in this world or under this earth could separate His love for me. He talks about how I should cast all my cares on Him, because that’s what God will have me do.

In that very moment, I feel so bare. Like I was being washed of every guilt and pain. It wasn’t my fault the Father Christmas had his way with me. It didn’t matter if I had disobeyed Baami and Maami, it still wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault that I had followed the Father Christmas foolishly to his room.  I certainly wasn’t trying to seduce him and despite the fact that I attempted several failed attempts of suicide, God still loves me very much and wants me as His own.

I let those tears fall freely. I let the peace spread across my heart. I let that feeling of love and want consume me. I am loved by someone. Understood by someone. He feels all of my infirmities.

As we rode home in David’s car, I felt an inward peace, one that shone outward. Indeed, he was right. This was all I needed for Saving Christmas.

Vocabulary

1.   Baale_ Head of the land

2. Baami_ Father

3.   Maami_ Mother

4.   Iro_ a wrapper tied across the waist to cover the lower part of the body.

5. Omo mi_ my child