Remembering Christmas

(Ruben Abati)-- …[Christmas] was also that time of the year for the reinforcement of family values. People whom you had not seen for the whole year travelled home from their stations to be part of Christmas. You got the chance to meet cousins, make new friends, and sing till you almost went hoarse.

I wasn’t much of a singer or drummer- my friends used to laugh each time I missed a note or a beat and we would spend weeks afterwards mimicking each other. In short, Christmas was real fun. But it was relatively a simple, inexpensive celebration, year after year. Our parents did not have to borrow, or go bankrupt, or agonize, for Christmas to be meaningful.

We got one or two new clothes and shoes: those were the usual Christmas gifts. On Christmas day, after church, lunch didn’t have to be anything extra-ordinary: it was no more than rice and chicken. In those days, chicken was a special delicacy, reserved for Sundays, or special occasions like birthdays or Christmas, very much unlike now that every child acquires the taste for tasty chicken from the womb! On Boxing Day, we either visited friends or stayed home, and played with firecrackers and bangers on the streets. Those children who could not afford bangers were not left out. They improvised with local devices made by blacksmiths. That contraption produced even better effect.

Our Muslim friends usually joined us, but they always teased us. In those days, Muslims and Christians celebrated religious festivals together, without any hang-ups about the difference in faith. Virtually every family had Muslim and Christian branches. Give it to Muslims, however, their own seasons were usually more elaborately and colourfully celebrated. They slaughtered rams during the Eid el-Kabir and were generous, handing out gifts of fried meat to family friends and acquaintances. During that festival also known as Ileya, the major Muslim festival, you could acquire a whole bucket-load of meat to sustain the family soup pot for weeks, without being a Muslim and without buying a ram.

Christians were not known to be that generous. Every Christian family was governed by rules of restraint. And so, Christmas restricted themselves to the killing of chicken or turkey; some families did not even bother to slaughter anything at all, and they did not violate any religious code, and in any case, Christians didn’t feel obliged to share meat with neighbours. The effect was that Muslim relations and friends had this funny song, which was a friendly way of accusing Christians of being stingy. “Ko s’ina dida nbe; Ko s’ina dida nbe, K’olorun ko so wa d’amodun o, ko s’ina dida nbe”. The truth is that nobody took offence, nobody considered the songs derisory, instead the teasing by Muslims attracted shared laughter. Even if there was no meat to share among the entire neighbourhood, there was more than enough fun to go round as many Muslim children joined us to shoot the bangers and make lots of noise. Many of them in fact knew the Christmas songs; they also joined us to stage in our own neighbourhood then, what was called the Christmas masque, or in Yoruba: “Mebo”.

The Mebo was a simple enactment, a blend of the secular, the profane and the religious, drawing its elements from a syncretic base. The Masque or Mebo was dressed like a Masquerade: his face was not supposed to be seen. He was the main attraction, backed by drummers and singers: we used pots and pans and maybe our mouths as drums. The masque danced and led the songs:

“Iya Kaa’le o

Wa dagba wa darugbo

Baba Ka’ale o

Wa dagba wa darugbo

Mebo yo robo

E ba mi wa so mi soro

Mebo O yo robo o

E ba mi wa so mi soro.

There is nothing Christianly about this type of song, but for us, growing up, we celebrated Christmas in the neighbourhood, mixing elements of all the religions and all the available modes. Even children of Egungun worshippers joined the Christmas celebration. And so we could start with Mebo yo robo, and shift to “We wish you a Merry Xmas…Good tidings we bring… Hark! The Herald Angels Sing… E lu agogo E lu agogo, E lu agogo o Olugbala de o, e lu agogo…Keresimesi, Keresimesi…” followed by other songs in Yoruba, which connected well with the community and did not attract any objections. We went from one house to the other and some people would give the Mebo money, which we shared thereafter and used to buy more bangers and firecrackers. We went round night after night until Christmas Eve.

Our parents did not discourage us, knowing that it was all in the spirit of the season....