Christmas in Yorubaland

It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas and I’m in Nigeria!!  Before I get to all the good stuff that happened on Christmas, let me tell you about my Christmas Eve night.

Now, if you’re Nigerian and reading this, you will call me bush.  I am bush in many ways, I know.  And I am ashamed to say it, but I scared myself shitless on Christmas Eve night.  The night was quiet, meaning we had a quiet evening at home after helping Mr. Dairo open his birthday gifts and share in the cake.  (Cake always seems to be eaten later here…I’m not sure why.)  We watched a Medea Christmas  (I think that’s the title) and to bed it was.  This is when the crazy bush in me begins to assert itself.  As I’m laying in bed, I think I hear gunshots.  These shots are random at first, and then come in quicker succession.  At first I pay them no mind, but they keep persisting.  I begin to listen to try to gauge their distance.  At times they seem very close, and at others they seem far away.  Because they are rather constant, and go on for an hour, not to mention that people came knocking at the door late in the night saying things we could not understand, I begin to freak out.  I move to the mattress on the floor and listen.  I do this for at least an hour and a half, having butterflies and shallow breathing imagining what I would do if robbers came to the village, or worse, if there was some Christian Muslim thing happening.  Finally, after sweating for some time, and being seriously scared  (more scared than I can remember in quite some time), I go to my hosts and tell them what I hear.  Bimbo, my host’s husband goes to my room and listens, and lets me know it’s fireworks.  On Christmas Eve it’s not uncommon for fireworks/firecrackers to be going off all over.  Boy, do I feel dumb, but I couldn’t help it.  Maybe I was being sensitive of what was to come.

The next morning, while heading out to our next destination (Osun state), news spread that a church in Suleja  (about an hour or so from where we live in Abuja) was bombed during Christmas morning service.  Not only was this close to home, our hosts knew people who witnessed the tragedy.  There were bodies strewn along the ground and the roof.  One man lost his entire family  (wife and three children).  Can you imagine?  On Christmas??  Of course Boko Harem claimed responsibility for the attack.  Apparently the bomb was detonated in a parked car somewhere nearby the church.  It was not a fun way to start Christmas.

Yet, despite that, I found joy in friends who adopted me quite easily into their family.  It truly felt like home away from home in a house full of joking brothers and sisters, a matriarch, and cousins running around playing and fighting…which gave me great, great amusement.

Many of the children were fascinated by me, and by the end of the day I wanted to take some home with me.  It was like I was a giant doll to them.  They were fascinated by my hair and skin.  They kept petting my hands and feet.  They even asked me if I had a belly button, and wanted me to prove it by showing them mine. 

Still in the village, but this time in Osungbo, I ate the most delicious food.  Again, I’ve been eating traditional Nigerian foods for some time…because that’s usually all that is served, yet it is here that I fall in love with pounded yam (akin to mashed potatoes, but different) and egusi soup  (sorry, can’t really describe egusi soup).  I even eat the liver in the soup.  And although I’ve come to a point where I’m more adventurous when it comes to eating food, I still draw the line at pomo  (boiled cow skin), cow stomach, gizzard  (although maybe I’d try gizzard…not sure yet), and various types of bush meat  (beaver, ant-eaters, etc.).

Bimbo’s family is so kind to me, a trait found in many Yoruba families, as they plan a special outing to Osun shrine.  Osungbo is famous for the Osun festival that happens in August.  This festival honors Osun, the goddess of Osun River, who was the queen and founder of Osogbo.  Osun is most renown as the goddess of fertility, protection and blessings. She possessed the ability to give children to barren women and power to heal the sick through use of the medicinal waters from the river.

Outside Osun Shrine

Monkey Feeding!

Osun is also known to be a mermaid by some, with lips of gold.  Her arrival is marked nowadays  (if I understand everything correctly) by the sighting of a goldfish each August, when they have the Osun festival.  However, one of my friends says that Osun has been captured and taken to New York.   Whatever the case, I am fascinated by Yoruba spirituality, and I have barely scratched the surface.

As we drive into to the grounds of the shrine, there is a visible shift in the energy.  All is lush, green, tropical, and tranquil.  Monkeys are everywhere.  Before entering the shrine, we actually stop to feed the monkeys.  We buy bananas and they come…some are shy while others are quite bold!  While I can’t remember everything the tour guide said,  I am touched by the beauty, architecture, and tranquility of the place.

We end the day in a joint.  Joints here are like bars, but better!  They are outdoors in open spaces.  You are surrounded by greenery, a laid-back atmosphere, and music.  The one we go to is owned by Bimbo’s sister.  It’s a small place in the village, with thick leafy trees and colored lights—giving the space a nice ambiance.  There’s African-style Christmas music playing on the combo.  We have beer, catfish, and peppe (short for pepper) soup.   Everything is so chill.  I enjoy hearing Bimbo and his brothers speak and laugh in Yoruba.  I also enjoy his brothers trying to speak to me  (some don’t speak English to often), laughing, and smiling.  I like it very much.  A very special Christmas indeed.