My family never had the money to buy a Christmas tree—not even a fake one.
So, when I was around 10 years old, we brought home a tree that had a lot of branches and tried to trim it into a triangle. Once it looked festive enough, we stuck it in a bucket of sand and started hanging things on it. Letters and pictures—whatever we could find—because we didn’t have any ornaments. And it was a blast!
It was the only time that we had a Christmas tree.
Growing up in Nigeria, you had to find something else to make the holiday special. You know you’re not going to get gifts or money or a real tree. But you’re still excited. So what are you excited for? You’re excited for family. You’re excited for the fact that it’s a time when almost the whole nation is at peace.
In Nigeria, the north is mainly Muslim, and the south is mainly Christian. My family lives in Jalingo, which is close to the divide. This is how our elections work—in 2015, a Muslim from the north ran for president with a Christian from the south as his second-in-command. That’s usually how it goes: north and south; Muslim and Christian. If they work together, they’re more likely to get elected.
There’s also an unwritten rule that the presidency should alternate between the two regions and religions every eight years. In the 2015 election, Muhammadu Buhari, a Muslim northerner, unseated Goodluck Jonathan, a Christian southerner.
Media reports called it the first peaceful transfer of power since democracy was restored in 1999. But let’s face it—the last election in 2011 set a pretty low bar. About 800 people died and thousands more were displaced because of post-election violence.
So for me, tree or no tree, holidays were special. It captured a time when everything was peaceful. Everyone was outside laughing, being joyful. Everything was calm. And every year, for as long as I can remember, my mom would cook ungodly amounts of food and take it to our Muslim friends and neighbors.
At Christmas, we eat a lot of rice. Rice is like the mashed potatoes of Nigeria. And not all rice is created equal. If you want to eat rice on a Wednesday, you’re going to eat jollof rice. That’s the kind of rice where you just throw everything you can find in a pot and eat it. Kind of like instant mashed potatoes.
But then there’s rice and stew. You only eat that once a week, maybe on a Sunday, or for a special occasion. It’s a Nigerian specialty made with tomatoes, peppers and rice. And it is delicious.
My mom had this giant pot, almost as big as a trash can, and she’d fill it with stew for family and friends. Christmas was about serving others. That’s what made it special. We brought food to everyone on our street, regardless of religion.
Our Muslim friends and neighbors did the same in June. When they celebrated the end of Ramadan, that was the one time of year that we’d eat lamb. Because they brought us food.
Exchanging our different delicacies was almost like an unwritten rule that everyone followed.
Nigeria has had its fair share of political turbulence and religious tension. But nothing captures the spirit of unity more than that during the holidays.
Now, I haven’t been home for Christmas in six years. But please, don’t feel sorry for me. I’m used to being away from my parents. They sent me off to boarding school in Jalingo when I was 11. That experience forced me to redefine home and family for myself.
I spent my first Christmas away from home as a high school exchange student. A couple in their 60’s picked me to come live with them for a year in Akron, Iowa.I was really excited to experience an American Christmas. From what I’d seen and heard on TV, I thought there would be reindeer flying everywhere and Santa coming down the chimney.
My host family didn’t have any kids. There wasn’t a big family gathering with a Christmas ham. But there were Christmas trees—yes, you heard me, trees, plural—real and fake ones set up around the house. But I didn’t see any presents under these trees. We just wrote cards to each other.
I was one of about 60 foreign exchange students from Nigeria. We were scattered throughout the United States. My first American Christmas turned out to be much different than theirs. When we returned home, the other students told tales of getting iphones and Macbooks for Christmas and eating mounds of mashed potatoes.
Well, at least I had the trees.
I could have had a string of sad, lonely holidays after leaving Nigeria for college. But everything changed when I met Paige Potter as a freshman at Morningside College and made the last-minute decision to spend Christmas with her family in Laurens, Iowa.
I wasn’t expecting anything from them. It was just somewhere to be. They gave me a place to stay and food to eat, and I was like, Oh, this Christmas is lit! Thank God I’m not eating cat food! That’s all I was looking for.
I woke up on Christmas morning in their home, and since we left out cookies and milk for Santa, he left us some presents under the tree. And there was even one for me.
For the past five years, the Potters have welcomed me into their home. They always have multiple Christmas trees with plenty of gifts under them. But what I look forward to the most is spending the holidays with people I love.
---
Ode is a storytelling series where community members tell true stories on stage to promote positive impact through empathy. It’s produced by Siouxland Public Media.
We’ll be hosting Ode’s 2nd Anniversary Show on Friday, February 2.
