When Dad announced we were going to the village this year, I -as usual, led the revolution squashing this idea. I ranted and threatened and generally bullied everyone (my parents) till they agreed to stay home. So we decide to have a Lagos christmas and I retired happily on christmas eve.
I didn’t make any plans this year. Christmas day would be a day to catch up with my bed (i do that everyday, since I’m presently “between jobs”). Dad had promised(and swore) to take us out and I was excited because we wouldn’t need to cook.
By six in the morning on christmas day, mum barged into my room and demanded I enter the kitchen.
“You don’t expect your slave to do all the work for you”, she screeched.
“whaaaa…….work?”, I muttered as I tried to understand what she was going on about.
I followed her to the kitchen and stared at the stack of salad ingredients, raw rice, turkey parts and seasoning lying on the work top.
“But…but I thought you guys said no cooking”
“My friend keep quiet and wash the turkey”, mum growled.
My siblings were already in the kitchen and we all grumbled and cursed (at no one in particular) as we made the food.
We wished tummy pain on whoever ate the food and by the time we had finished cooking by past 10, the food was saturated with curses. All that was left, was to wait for guests to eat it.
12 o’clock came..no guests.
1……….2……3 o’clock….NO GUEST.
After all this cooking, well someone MUST eat the food.
By four o’clock, Dad called some of his friends.
“Hey, why didn’t you guys come over for christmas?”.
“We weren’t invited, and we thought you guys had gone to the village as usual”.
I could hear the conversation from where I was sitting.
When the conversation ended, dad looked up slowly and said to my mum.
“No one’s coming”
“SOOOOO…., after forcing me to slave away, no one is gonna eat this food?”, I yelled.
“Well, someone has to eat it, and I know who will!”
My siblings and I locked the doors and windows, grabbed instruments for torture(which we keep in our shed) and told our parents to sit down.
I brought out the HUGE pot of rice, and told them to start eating.
“OYA, EAT MORE”, I yelled as I knocked my dad.
……..they made it to half of the pot before mum passed out.
Today, we’re at the hospital. Dad couldn’t come with us because he’s purging.
Some minutes ago, the doctor asked us to get some food for mum who just regained consciousness.
“She needs to eat something”.
I turned to my brother Emeka, “Shebi you brought the pot?”.
“Yes, its in the boot”.
EMMM…..Merry christmas everyone. I love you guys.