I alighted from the commercial bus when it arrived at my destination. I left my area of residence at 7am and boarded a bus heading for Obalende in Lagos. I was on my way to visit my friend Rita Benson and spend Christmas day with her and her family. Prior to that day, I had obtained permission and reception from both families and so I was cleared to go enjoy myself at her place. I walked a little while into Erickson's street, a street adjacent to hers. I recall that she assured me of getting to her place easily once I get to Erickson's street.
When I got to the predescribed landmark, I asked for directions to her house. According to Rita, it was a big house with a giant green gate. Her house was next to a primary school and rhat made it quite easy to locate her place. Getting to the house with the giant green gate, I pressed the door bell and a security guard asked for my name which I mentioned to him with my purpose of visit. In about 30 seconds, I received an all clear to go in and that was when Rita came down to the sitting room to see me. We hugged and chatted happily for a few minutes before she took me to her room.
Her room and the entire house was beautifully decorated. The lightings and other Christmas decoratives were spot on and I couldn't help but soak it in admiringly. The only thing missing was the usual "jollof rice and chicken" which was customary on Christmas day but I was not smelling any whiff of onions, talk less of chicken. I looked at her quizzically and as if reading my mind with psychic ability she smiked while saying "there's no jollof rice and chicken now. That would come later in the day".
My puzzled look was a thriller for her. I could tell because she was trying hard to stifle her laugh but regardless, I blurted out "What is Christmas without jollof rice and chicken and what will you eat before the food arrives?" I was becoming disappointed at not being able to feast on some fat chicken. Thinking at how early I left my house without eating, I began to regret embarking on this journey without eating at home. My mum stayed up all night on Christmas eve to prepare the chicken and stew. If I had waited a little, I would have eaten something.
Rita's hand snap brought me back to the unpleasant reality of "no food". "Why.. why isn't there christmas jollof rice and chicken now?" I asked, trying to get my fifteen year old mind to comprehend the situation. " Well, we have a family tradition that we uphold dearly in our family" Rita replied.
" We usually eat uncooked soup with boiled white yams and it is really delicious" she continued explaining. "What do you mean by uncooked soup?" I asked. That was when she told me about a soup prepared in a mortar with lots of dried fish but the only source of heat would come from hot water that would be added to the mixture. She asked if I would like to try it and I replied in the negative. Smiling, she said "Don't worry Becky, I've got you covered" and with that she went to prepare something for my raging stomach..... scrambled eggs and noodles.
At the end of the day, I couldn't wait for Rita's jollof rice and chicken as I had a curfew to keep but I was glad to be fleeing that wierd tradition, practiced by the Bensons on Christmas day.
Thank you all for reading..shalom
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