Agbaya Linkup

  

Merry Christmas

It is only three days to Christmas and for the first time in many years, I am finally looking forward to that day. Christmas in my house has never been fun, just regular like every other day. Nothing special, nothing spectacular, nothing different, not even the meals.

On one occasion, we even ate bread and “omi obe” for dinner, bearing in mind that we were made to fast all day, and this was in fact our very first meal of the day. No doubt my parents hated me. 

As the first of six children, I had to set a good example for my younger ones who were expected to tow the part I had taken. So much unnecessary pressure.

If we were not going for “let's-go-a-fishing” we would be at “children's camp” with the burden of caring for my younger ones still on me. Same old boring routine every year. This time was different though. 

My crush is coming to children’s camp this year. He had been lamenting at every service for the last 2 weeks about how his mum had forced him to show up, threatening him with removing some privileges if he did not; and even for a rich kid, boy!!!! those privileges were definitely top-class luxury.

In our usual way of having group discussions that us “after service children” usually had, he mentioned it. I was super happy but as the quiet and shy one in the group, all I did was say sorry about that. I was excited, super elated. 

In fact, my box had been packed from the very first day I heard the news. To cap it all, I have been dreaming about the grand entrance I have planned every day. 

My closest friend, who is also aware of my crush and is a friend of the family, is also coming to camp and has promised to look after my siblings while I hatch out the plan of getting my crush’s attention. 

I should tell you guys about my crush already. Jimmy is the true example of fine. There is fine, and then there is Jimmy. Such a beautiful and wonderful creature of God. If you ever doubt that God exists, just take a look at Jimmy and you will marvel at how much of an awesome creator he is. 

Jimmy had a brother, ‘Jude’ who unlike his brother was pretty much and definitely uglier than his brother. He hardly ever related with us. A lot of us, myself especially did not like him and considered him wicked. He rarely spoke to us, always gallivanting around with his headsets. 

Jimmy on the other hand was my baby, as fine as the lilies of the field. We were only in secondary school and I was suddenly starting to find boys attractive.

“Jessica” my mum yelled, startling me out of my rambid fantasy. What are you doing? she said, “I want to speak with you”.

“Ooooooohh, argh” I grumbled as I got up from the bed shuffling my feet into my slippers, grudgingly dragging them towards the door. “Jessica” she yelled again. “Is this girl sleeping? In this hot afternoon”. 

“Ma" I shouted back at her, I am coming I said as I hurriedly ran out of my room, trying to locate what part of the house she was in.

Sighting me, she said “I just had a revelation”. I sighed deeply. My mother was the queen of trances, dreams, and revelations. Wait, did God go snitch on me? “Which kind wahala be this?”

“About what?” I mumbled.  “Go and bring the bag you're taking to camp let me see”. Warning   alarm bells rang in my head. It had better not be, I said to myself. Did this God just snitch on me? You must also hate me. If not that Jimmy is a fine boy, I would doubt that you love me.

Perhaps you should let me die already, she's going to kill me when she finds out what I have been planning. “Jessica Ifedinma, I am standing here waiting for you.  Hurry up”. 

I was definitely in trouble. My mother rarely calls me by my full name except I was in trouble. In fact, don't bother; let's go to the room together.

Kill me already!!!! This woman definitely meant business. I had been planning to quickly remove the love letters I had penned down before she changed the order of things. I was surely going to fast till I left for camp, that's if she even lets me go anymore.

After several slow nerve-wracking steps, we finally arrived at my room. Lifting the now super heavy box, I already saw stars in anticipation of the slaps that would soon come rolling in. 

I prayed silently to the God I wasn't sure could hear me, promising that if he saved me from this mess, I would never do it again. Alas, God did not save me and you can imagine how the story went from there

When my father returned from work, I was called to a meeting. “Dinma" as he fondly calls me. You are a leader; How do you want to correct your younger ones if you are doing this? You are not going to camp again and you will continue your fasting when others end theirs. 

“Daddy please” I wailed loudly, throwing myself on the floor, weeping like a mother who just lost her only child. “Get out of my face” he retorted.  I was only 15, a young teenager confused about life and all that it had in it.

That night, I tried to take my life but unfortunately my sister saw me. She screamed just about the time I was releasing myself to fall on the knife I had skilfully arranged on the bed, willing myself to gravity to complete the work.

 Everyone hated me, including the God that supposedly gave me to these people. It also didn't help that I was the first child burdened with the duty of raising my siblings. 

My sister ran quickly to remove the knife before I fell. I went into the bed unscathed, with only a little cut on my night wear. I struggled with her for the knife but she screamed even louder. “Leave me alone, just let me die” I said half crying, half shouting.

Her loud screams already drew everyone to my room. How did she even get here? I wondered; Surely it must have been God, because reflecting back now, there was no point in trying to commit suicide at that time. I was yet to see life and trust me that was the simplest of tough situations I have encountered so far.

Life comes at you pretty fast, and again for the first time in all my christmas endeavours, no one was shouting at me or expecting so much from me. 

I was allowed to go to children's camp, and yes, I met my crush,  but I no longer liked him. I felt like he was the cause of my travails. If I never liked him, none of those things would have happened.

My mum was unusually quiet from that day till I left for camp. I occasionally caught her crying in secret, asking out loud if she was fit enough to be a mother. I felt for her but was happy she was finally understanding how I felt as a child burdened with all that responsibility. 

My dad and siblings on the other hand moved on like nothing happened. They never spoke about it or referred to it. I was treated like it never happened, even better than before.

Much later, my little sister who saved me from dying, opened up to me that she had been looking for the sharpest knife in the house and decided to check my room for it, assuming I had taken it to my room again per usual, trying to slice the fruits I used to break my fast. She was in fact jealous of me, and felt like I was getting all the attention from my parents. 

What she didn’t know was that I was under a lot of scrutiny, that was why I was getting the attention. I had to live up to the standard they were setting for me, and so seeing me in that position shook her hard. It changed her mind about trying it.

That festive season was different for my family altogether. My siblings behaved so well at camp that I didn’t have to do so much. When we got back, things were also different at home.  Mum was already loosening up, she even cracked jokes occasionally.

Perhaps the change we all needed to get better was this.

 THE END.

“let's-go-a-fishing” – a yearly crusade/outreach program organized by different parishes in RCCG

“children's camp” – a camp get-away held annually for children and teenagers 

“omi obe” – Yoruba stew

“after service children” -slang for children whose parents are usually still busy with        activities/meetings after church.

“which kind wahala be this?” – what kind of trouble is this?