CHRISTMAS CHRONICLES

CHRISTMAS

Growing up in Lagos, Christmas wasn’t just a holiday—it was the event of the year, the grand finale to twelve months of hustle and bustle. The smell of jollof would waft through the house, the clanging of pots echoing, and my mother’s occasional shout of, “I have counted the chicken, if you like, touch it!” The oddly comforting scent of the harmattan breeze would kiss your skin and chap your lips, and somehow, everything just felt brighter.

THE JOY OF A NINE-YEAR OLD

At age nine, if you had asked me what Christmas meant to me, I would’ve said with all seriousness, “It is the only time I get a pack of Chivita juice all to myself.” At that age, I didn’t care much for the deeper meanings of the season. All that mattered to me was the food, the drinks, and the shiny new clothes. There was this thing my mother did where she would give each of us a pack of Chivita while eating our Christmas rice. That for me was the ultimate Christmas luxury—I didn’t have to share with anyone. The pack was mine. I was free to drink it at my pace, sip by sip, while savoring every drop.

I LIT MY FIRST BANGER

At age twelve, I wasn’t just looking forward to the food and the Chivita; Christmas had taken a different turn. It was the year I lit my first banger. My parents had always warned me against it, especially my dad. He would tell me, “Bangers are dangerous. Don’t ever buy them.” But, like every kid who’s heard the word “no,” I couldn’t help but want to do it even more.

That Christmas, I had secretly saved up some money. I remember hiding the firecrackers inside my clothes, flattening my belly to make sure they didn’t bulge out, as I slipped out of the house with my friends to find a spot. The thrill of holding that match, the excitement as the fuse sputtered to life was pure adrenaline. The loud bang was followed by shouts of joy and bursts of laughter. The fear of getting caught by my parents only added to the excitement. In that moment, Christmas felt like freedom, a small rebellion against the rules, and I was living it up.

THE SHIFT IN PERSPECTIVE

By the time I turned fourteen, something had shifted within me. Christmas didn’t excite me the way it once did. The Chivita lost its allure, and the bangers no longer carried the same thrill. I started to see Christmas in a different light. The magic wasn’t in the material things anymore. It was in the sacrifices my parents made to make sure we had something to celebrate.

It hit me like a ton of bricks—how hard my mother worked in the kitchen to make sure there was food on the table, and how hard my dad worked to ensure we had fun. For the first time, I began to understand the love behind the effort. Christmas was no longer about receiving but giving.

At this age, I also started noticing the wider Lagos vibe. Christmas wasn’t just happening in our house; it was everywhere. The streets were filled with the sounds of car horns and Christmas jingles blasting from speakers. Neighbors would visit with plates of food (which I happily judged in my head).

FIFTEEN

By the time I was fifteen, Christmas became a time of reflection and quiet joy. I found myself spending most of Christmas day reading Christmas classics and watching holiday movies. I read books like A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry, How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss, and The Miracle on 34th Street by Valentine Davies. I watched movies like Home Alone and The Polar Express. I didn’t need anything more than the warmth of the season, the comfort of home, and the joy of spending time with family to have a memorable day.

WHAT CHRISTMAS MEANS TO ME NOW

As I’ve grown older, my view of Christmas has transformed even more. I no longer look forward to the excitement of Chivita or the thrill of lighting a banger. Instead, I find myself savoring the moments—the quiet ones, the heartfelt conversations, the act of being present with those I love.

Christmas has become less about what I get and more about what I give—whether it’s a thoughtful word, a helping hand, or just time spent together. It’s about creating memories, not just for the day, but for the years to come.

I also find it to be a time for reflection—a chance to appreciate what I’ve been given, and to look forward to the possibilities the new year holds. Christmas for me is a reminder that even the simplest moments can carry the deepest meaning.

Has your views of Christmas also evolved over time?, and what does Christmas mean to you now?

Best regards,

Aderupoko Olanrewaju Michael

BAPS Editorial Team.