Building From Aba — A Story of Love and Impact — Chapter 2

Christmas Day 2018.

It’s our first Christmas here. Ben wanted us to go to church and head straight to the shop from there. He would prefer spending Christmas at the small factory shop on Faulks road. Sketching, drawing and trying out new designs for 2019.

As usual - I was having none of it. Coming from a large family of 5... Christmas was kind of a big deal for me. I remember it all.. Carol service, followed by the struggle to get home in one piece admist the charrel of fireworks or "banger " as we call it. It's a scary and exciting experience.

Most mornings we would wake up with our ears still banging from the "bangers". One time, Uncle Aniche, my late uncle. The last to die of my dad two brothers, shut a real gun - my grandfather's gun, a mild token of the war that claimed my mum's grandfather and grand uncles. Men that fought for Biafra but never returned.

Oh Christmas was the long wait for food to get ready. Salivating on the live chicken that has soon turned into fried crispy brown meat and salad preparations that seems to fill all the trays in the house.

Christmas was the sweet 100 naira or 50 naira our diverse relatives and family friends gave to us after they visited. We loved the ones we didn't have to ask. But most times we will chase after one of them and say "uncle gbaram Christmas"

Christmas was all of this until dad died.
Everything changed. We didn't travel to the village as much so we spent a lot of Christmas in Lagos. Over the years it translated to just us and mum. It was fun still.

Perhaps that was my reason for telling Ben NO. He knew not to argue with me on this one. So he changed plans for me.
We went to church, went straight to the market and straight home. I made fried rice and fried chicken, we ate, saw a movie and slept.

This was Christmas day for us and it was enough.