Were the old times better or is an air of nostalgia attached to them? longing for what we can never get back?

Kachi grew up in a multi-dimensional Christian home. A Jehovah Witness mother and a Cherubim & Seraphim father. Two extreme sides of the Christian religion. Christmas was never a thing to do being a Witness and they started celebrating it few years shy of her 10^th birthday when her parents decided to leave both churches and attend a Pentecostal church.

Waking up that December morning, as soon as she smelled the distinct air, she knew Christmas was fast approaching. The thick fog in the air, the music, the change in the attitude of her neighbours. Everyone as ready for the festival, Christians and non-Christians alike.

She remembered the electricity poles being decorated ahead of the December cardinal, mama Metajuwa, the old woman beside their house, preparing to travel to her village to celebrate with her people.

Secondary school activities had become more fun. There were less floggings by the teachers and more cultural dances, choreographies for the upcoming Christmas party. The music chosen that year was ‘I’m trading my sorrows’. Her mother had bought her white socks and she still had the hand gloves she used some years ago as a flower girl to her aunt’s wedding.

“Kachi, did you use your body cream’’ her mother called to her from their kitchen where she was preparing her lunch for school.

“Yes ma, I have done that. I have also used Vaseline for my mouth.” She replied, tucking her shirt in her ironed skirt, thanks to her elder sister who was always fixated on leaving gator lines in both their uniforms. She did not mind as it made teacher praise her for looking smart and prompted her classmates to do the same. Breakfast was lipton and bread but she hated it, she hated any liquid that was not water. In her words, beverages were nothing short of ‘coloured water’. Her mother paid no attention to that and she knew there was no escaping the breakfast routine so she drank it without hesitation, praying fervently inside of her for the moment she would become an adult.

The harmattan was always harsh, leaving her lips, skin white and cracking. Vaseline hated to see her coming as she drenched herself in it. While she was wearing her sweater, the sound of the school bus horn came blaring and she had to hurry up not to keep them waiting.

Their neighbour living opposite them, legally unemployed but was what people termed a yahoo boy, a name which would eventually be popularized by a Nigerian singer was always playing foreign and Nigerian music no mater the time of the day. As she entered into her bus, he was playing some songs from Sean Paul, before that was a P Square song.  The songs came blasting from his new car, Daewoo, the latest car anyone could have in that moment, through the untarred streets and no one seemed to have negative feelings towards it. After his mini concert, he would drive downtown to the popular cyber cafe known as the hotspot for these young fraudsters.

School during December was always the best time as there were less classes and more rehearsals for the Christmas party. There were also decorations to be made and the students always did the decorations as they pleased.

“So, are you ready to go to Mr. Adams house during lunch break? Mariam asked during their math class. They both hated Mathematics, one more thing they had in common. Everyone knew them as best friends as they were practically joined by the hip. She had gone to islamic school with her once and had to leave when she could not recite the words the other students had memorized. It was a fun experience, something she was never going to forget.

“Yes, I miss the guava and fruit, we have to pluck them again. Is Sandra coming with us?” She asked, wanting to know if it was both of them that would go to their teachers house alone.

To outsiders it seemed unprofessional but to the students, Mr. Adams was the best teacher anyone could have. He always took them out during free period in the guise of excursion and the principal allowed it because everyone loved him. He lived with his parents three streets away and students visited often because of the fruits hey could pluck from their trees.

Few days to the close of school year, she would never forget the feeling she got when Mariam sat beside her, asking if she could come to her house for Christmas. It was an immediate yes as Kachi was excited to have her as both families were cordial with each other.

Things began to happen, she was never going to forget how Mariam made her feel, playing footsies under their shared desk and sharing secret smiles in class. Their fingers intertwined while listening to their teacher, tucking her hair behind her ears to see her face better only to be greeted with a shy smile which sent Kachi spiraling internally. She was Kachi’s first love; the first person she held hands with that gave her butterflies in my stomach. She, however, did not understand how this feeling was something unacceptable in the country at that time. It was a topic that was never spoken of at church or at home. They never spoke about it but they both knew what they felt for each other was not platonic. For someone who followed the school bus morning and evening, Kachi skipped the evening bus so she could play football on the public field alongside Mariam despite the harsh weather.  A plan which eventually backfired as she was caught by her mother and was dragged by the ears all the way home.

2006 marked the end of that good feeling life as Kachi’s family moved away from the area and she never got to experience communal Christmas celebration ever again. The celebration stopped, the weather changed and there was no thick fog to remind her of the Christmas season. There were no neighbours to enjoy the season with and no friends to invite to celebrate with her. She never saw Mariam again, but she hoped that wherever she was, she was living her authentic self.

She is an adult now, few years shy of 30 years old and dee down she still longs for that era, she knows she can never get it back, but she can take pride and joy in knowing she had that December experience in 2006.