It Happened One Christmas

December and harmattan winds always evoked in him nostalgia for his childhood days when christmas was Christmas.

He missed his late mother and the chicken and jollof rice she used to prepare on Christmas day while he played in the sand with his friends. He remembered the excitement on his face as he tried new Christmas clothes in his room and went out to show it to his parents.

From relative to relative he and his friends roamed on Christmas evenings for their Christmas gifts, Christmas money and Christmas food. Some Christmas they were lucky and got more than they could have asked for. Other Christmas, they were not so lucky.

As he trudged home that mid-December evening pondering over his childhood, it suddenly occurred to him that it was Saturday and the much-anticipated music awards ceremony was happening that night.

Not that he cared very much for the outcome of the event, but at least whenever any program he intended watching on tele that evening got boring, he knew where to turn to for a change. He showered and ate dinner behind the t.v set.

A blockbuster movie rolled on his screen and hooked his attention from start to finish. “This is what we call a movie!” He exclaimed with a clenched fist as the t.v screen reeled off the credits.

It was then he remembered again the awards night. 11 pm, the clock on the wall mumbled. He pressed a button on the tv remote control and it took him to a live music performance at the awards ceremony after which the nominations and awards resumed.

One by one names were called and a name emerged from a category and produced itself in the form of an entourage of family and friends that went upstage for an award, thanking fans and supporters for the fans and support – seemed some of the artists really didn’t know what they should be saying.

Then his daughter’s name was mentioned. The shock and excitement he felt wouldn’t let him hear the category for which she was nominated.

As she held the award in her right hand and drew the mic a little closer to her mouth with the left, he saw nothing but his little girl he held yesterday in his arms. The joy he felt then. A teenage father without a penny to his name, determined to do his best to give his daughter the best education he could so she didn't end up like him- hustling and struggling to make ends meet.

But his best wasn’t enough. Her mother left and years later when his finances were at their worst, his daughter had to drop out of high school into music.

Here she was with her music and all that came with it – envy from fellow artists, rumours of being a cultist, rumours of sleeping around with producers, clubbing and smoking. This was never his wish for his daughter. But things then, spun out of control and left him a victim of circumstances.

Today somehow, it all seemed to be making sense. His beloved daughter. He must look for her. He must look for his own, his kind, his very blood. The other artists who came up for their awards came with an entourage of solid family and friends support. He noticed when his daughter came out, it was just her manager and another lady who looked like her manager’s girlfriend that came out with her.

They had all abandoned her following her decision to go into music and especially after the rumours of her resorting to devilish rituals to rise to fame. But how true were those rumours? He could not tell. Yet she on her own had risen to the top at such a young age amidst harsh media criticisms of her dressing and genre of music.

He must look for his daughter. Cultist, immoral, indecent, …whatever she had become, she was still the little girl that played in his arms yesterday.

By Benjamin Nambu

From: Ghana

Website: https://greatbenji.business.blog

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/kwesi.nambu