Christmas: How My First Career Ended

Old Post

I always look back with nostalgia to my teen years back in the 90s. Nikky Christmas was fun on another level back then especially because it was a time for eating delicious delicacies, wearing your Christmas cloth, enjoying a bottle of drink alone instead of sharing it with others, watching masquerades and dance troupes to exhibit their skills.

My big dream was to join a masquerade group and get to be the masquerade. So i was excited when some boys in my class who also lived on my street decided to form a masquerade group and asked me to join them. My dream was coming true and I gladly became a member. We turned into designers and picked rafia from the bush, colored, sewed them together to make a garment for our masquerade. 

Our meeting point was under the staircase of our flat and some parents encouraged us by donating old rickety metal gongs (ogene). We were excited and could not wait for the Christmas day to arrive so we would show off our own masquerade at the famous Obiagu square (where all the masquerade in the state used to gather to celebrate Christmas).

A week to Christmas, we were rehearsing when a strange boy from the next street came with a message from their own masquerade group. Those boys were older.

We all gathered round and opened the rumpled paper. It was straight to the point; 

"don't show up at Obiagu. If you do, we will beat all of you!"

At first we were scared but somehow we encouraged ourselves and decided to teach them a bitter lesson but we didn't know how to go about it. After many days of thinking, we came up with a plan. One of us went to the bush and got some very itchy plants (I can't remember what they were called), we carefully put them inside a big empty milk tin and made a concoction from it. The plan was to pour our concoction on their masquerade and flee. It was a perfect plan and we could not wait to see the effect.

Christmas day finally arrived. In the evening, after all the enjoyment, we gathered under the staircase. You could hear  the sound of other masquerades performing far off. It was time to decide who would wear the rafia that Christmas and I was overjoyed when I was selected. I hurriedly dressed up while  my wing men carried our smelly milk tin. Hitting the rickety gongs loudly, we emerged amid cheers. My sister was peeping at us when I wore the rafia and must have told my mom so they were cheering the loudest. I danced around briefly before hitting the streets with my guys behind me.

Small girls were waving at us and I was showing off my acrobatic skills on the road when suddenly one of us pulled at my rafia. I peeped through it and saw some boys and a masquerade running towards us at top speed. I recognized the letter bearer from the other day and my tender heart went FIAM straight to my throat. Sweat broke out all over my body and that rafia bag started itching as if someone poured our concoction on me.

 

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