If the government goes ahead to export electricity when I am in dire need of it at this Christmas time, I tell you, wild horses could not keep me from consulting the Justice Lady and we’ll see which way her sword and scales swing.
Dear Reader, last week I moaned to you about ‘Them December blues…’ Well, a kindly gentleman reader gently upbraided me for only groaning on and on about my gloomy preparations for Christmas and not performing up to my usual par. Anyway, I quite understood his peeve. The problem with writing humourous pieces really is that the reader is often hard put to distinguish fact from fiction. This week, therefore, the blues ‘are followed by the Christmas of my dreams.’ I think that should heal the breech, sir. Let me tell you out rightly, though, that my dreams are not up to much, if you get my drift.
My favourite Christmas experience, of course, is shopping. Have you noticed that Christmas is all about shopping, shopping, shopping till you drop? Yes, really, the Christmas experience is all about shopping. This is why every formal and informal businessman, civil trader, transporter, state troopers, me, my dog, etc., I say every one of us runs around like crazy to make that extra bit of money to take care of Christmas demands like food and clothes (for us the children), gifts (for us the missus), special gifts (for us the mistresses) and very special gifts (for us the others). Oh, I am just drooling at the joy of Christmas shopping.
This year though, the shops are there, but alas, the funds are MIS – (Missing In Action). This means they are not where they should be – you know, in my pocket. They are ‘not on seat’ as we say in Nigeria. No, I am not moaning again; I am just saying. So, finding myself helpless, I determine to at least, ‘look around’. Towns and cities have been built from just looking around. Who knows what may come?
As I look around, I cannot help but notice that each shop is going out of its way to sell Christmas to me. There are the shelf displays. There are the Christmas lights blinking all the colours of the rainbow. There are the food shelves loaded to the hilt with attractively labelled packs and tins. And oh, there is the music; catchy yuletide tunes that just take me back through the centuries to when Christ was born, though I cannot find him in the shops.
Have you noticed that Christmas shopping is more about Santa Claus? Seriously, I don’t know who the guy is but he has taken over every shop selling Christmas, even in Nigeria. Listen, now, gifts and food and the special Christmas spirit are not given by people or God but by Santa. They say he is the venerable old man who brings something for the poor and the rich alike. He brings material gifts for the poor and spiritual gifts for the rich because there is a notion that the poor usually lack material comfort and the rich are all dried up spiritually. I don’t know how true that is but I certainly know where I belong in case the … err… Santa is listening. I am firmly seated on the fence. You can’t miss me; just follow everybody’s stones.
Anyway, my dreams are simple. I am dreaming of a Christmas filled with many gifts from Santa. First, I want him to give me electricity! I think I said this last year. Well, nothing has changed. Man, it is only in Nigeria that electricity is considered a privilege. That is why we have eighteen hours of no-electricity in my neighbourhood (it’s more in some others, I hear); and also why children still hail the company whenever light is restored.
Seriously, for as long as I remember, Christmas days have been bleak not because it is winter (I wish; at least that would save one from this dust), but because there has been no power to power anything that can make some powerful noise around me. Each year, the duty of NEPA (then) and IBEDC (now) was and has been to greet us with a veil of darkness and silence from its poles. Perhaps, Santa coming from his own poles, can make better noises, such as SWISH, and light up the place, twenty-four-seven. That will be something.
A propos the matter of light. Last night, I heard a nasty little rumour which I’m praying is not true. I heard that Nigeria was considering selling its excess electricity to other countries. If that is true, then I am hurt and deeply wounded. My wound is so deep I cannot begin to qualify it. How can I be given only six hours of electricity per day while my country sells the stuff to foreign countries? Where is the justice in that, eh? Have I been given the opportunity of first offer for that stuff and I refused it and preferred to stay in darkness? How on earth can anyone do that to me or you or the families that have perished from inhaling generator fumes because there was no electricity? How on earth…?
I have never taken anyone to court before because most people have not been sufficiently nasty to me to warrant it. However, if the government goes ahead to export electricity when I am in dire need of it at this Christmas time, I tell you, wild horses could not keep me from consulting the Justice Lady and we’ll see which way her sword and scales swing. I tell you, I will not whimper quietly this time.
This Christmas, I am dreaming of a Nigeria where terrorism (e.g. boko haram), militancy (e.g. Niger Delta), unexplainable killings (e.g. by herdsmen), kidnappings (e.g. Evans’ style as alleged), road blocks (e.g. Nigeria Police), etc., would all cease and we would have some much needed rest and respite from this litany of bad human errors that assault us daily! Haba! Don’t we get tired? Let’s have a different, totally new, totally unexpected and totally pleasant experience this year so that our song will sound like something taken from the TALES PLEASANT book for children. I told you, my dreams are simple.
Just one more dream and I’m done. This Christmas, I’m wishing that corruption would not sit down to eat with us. For too many yuletides, it has overshadowed our celebrations, with one scandal or the other breaking out, and has taken over our streets. Just yesterday, I overheard a businessman complain that the young men he hired to handle his rental business have become corrupt. They now have their own clients for whom they use his materials. Imagine his surprise to see his tents at a ceremony he attended and there was no record of the transaction in his ledgers. Things are so bad with us and corruption now that even landlords will soon be tempted to deduct from the rents they collect before they remember the entire money belongs to them. Everyone suffers.
The stuff that Christmas dreams are made of here are things taken for granted in other countries – sincerity, accountability, kindness, wholesomeness, etc. This is why we have to pray hard for them. It is also why I’m wishing that you will have yourself a very merry time considering all the stress you’ve been through – no light, no food, no sanity, no government even…. Don’t be afraid to get that cow, goat, turkey or chicken and celebrate with it, even if the sellers are behaving like little cows or are goat-headed or are talking turkey or want to chicken out. Just tell them it’s Christmas and it has been a stressful year. Here’s to no more stressful years. MERRY CHRISTMAS!
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