There are diverse things that keep writers on pinned to the chairs, glued to computer screens, and sometimes, exerting pressure on the paper using the pen. First of all, Merry Christmas to you all. The underlying issues here are what would, in a summative fashion, be baptized as Inspiration. Sometimes, it is always about pouring out the good and bad feelings harbored deep within the soul. Sometimes, it is the demons of the pen that arise and sit on the throne as they dictate the syllables out of the heavy globe held by the neck. All I am jabbering about is that inspiration can come from all extremes of life. Well, today I am inspired to write a merry Christmas message to Amorii, my friend. Before I mention the knitty gritties about my friend (lest you think he is imaginary… you mean person), I would like to talk about Christmas and how Merry it is.
Yaay, it’s 359 and a quarter days to Christmas!
Well, I would not say this myself but you already know that, don’t you? I am quoting someone. Yes, socialites can also be quoted among writers. Even with their spelling and grammatical navigational errors and a few inconsistencies with counting the number of days in a year, they can still be quoted. This particular one has stuck. I have thought about it throughout the year and pondered on the possible explanations for the forces that made this someone to write such a thing. Certainly, if you ask them the question, the answer will be in the neighborhoods of;
I just did it. YOLO. Merry Christmas. Oh TBT. You are a hater. My quotes my choice. Duh. Tsk!
If it makes sense to you, your ingenuity borders that of Einstein. But you see, a writer will often feel curious. They will want to know the kind of exotic worm that has infested such heads.
But hey, I digressed much. Merry Christmas Amorii. Christmas, to me is a good day. Not that the sun will shine less bright or that the volume of the heat will be turned up on the 25th. No. In fact, if the gauge for bad or good days would be based on the parameters of the weather, or moods, the celebrations would be a thing of the past. People, like my socialite friend would not be waiting in anticipation. Christmas is a time based in the deepest of hearts. A time to reflect, if not on anything else, on the fact that the year is almost ending. Before I say merry Christmas, I take a moment and think.
What do I want the recipient of my message, Merry Christmas, to feel, think about etc. This is often a personal message that is only successfully delivered if it gets to the crests of the soul. The fact that it is vested upon the foundations of the Christian faith is one of the reasons this is true. The other reason I am guessing you will see when I tell you why I chose to say Merry Christmas, Amorii.
He is my guy. Today, I have remembered him because, on the Christmas Eve, we met at an odd place. No. Do not judge me just yet. I am not saying that the church is an odd place. Far from it. The fact that Amorii and I met here at the wee hours of the night singing, dancing, and sweating freely was odd. Entirely random. Most of the time, it takes a lot of convincing and persuasion for me to spend such a time in a loud televanglistic place of worship. I prefer to look for loud music accompanied by frenzies at other places. Amorii, on the other hand, would definitely prefer to spend it by the river side. Not that he has the first world problems of whiling away the time watching the river flow for elongated periods of time. He prefers the small, grass thatched structure, that reeks of fermentation and chemicals that have not decided on their identity as methanol or ethanol. They are in a dilemma. The ones which almost killed Amorii the other day. His name is Maurice. I call him Amorii. I say Merry Christmas Amorii reflecting on a lot of things. Again, I have to mention that I have a family to whom I would have said Merry Christmas, Fam and moved onto the next thing. But they already know I love them.
My mom, check!
My sisters, check!
My Brothers, Check!
My girl, Check!
My Friends, check!
But, they already know. I share the sentiments of the Pharaoh as he says, “….child, you sleep so peacefully, knowing that you are loved.” As the chocolate eyelids seal the Hazel eyes tonight, they should sleep knowing that every Merry Christmas message is to mean that the Ndonga’s of this world writes with love.
But it is Amorii’s day today. Let us give it to him. So we are in this church. The speakers are bellowing as if in rebuke to anyone sitting down. It is as if there is a conspiracy to make everybody dance. But who says no! It’s supposed to be a joyous occasion. Amorii and I are not the type to go past the clapping of hands but we try. Soon the tune gets into us and we are the music. The music is us. And we know it’s a merry Christmas.
But then I remember something. It was just the other day we were with Amorii. I had requested for his help, as I always do when I need assistance with my indigenous vegetable orundu. Surely he came. But he looked funny. He had a bump on his right forehead slightly above the eyebrows. I was shocked. Not that Amorii’s bumps, dents, black eyes, and name them all, are rare sights.
They aren’t. In fact with the rate of liver damaging processes that take place in the month of December, I expected them. They are some of the merry Christmas messages that Amorii and his close friends share at such times.
But this one was unique.
He was also acting strange. Eye contact with him was out of the question. The hoe did not connect well with the soil. On few occasions, he would prune the whole vegetable plant by accident. I had to stop him get him and myself glasses of water and ask him.
Man, I think I am just tired. Amorii Says.
His eyes are tough. No tears can bear the agony of passing through them. But I can see a sad man. He declines to answer any more of my questions but I know something is going on.
So, if you see me surprised at the way Amorii is dancing so flamboyantly on such a day, pardon my curiosity. I had to do what I always do. Ask. So I brush my way against the wave of frenzied ecstatic dancers and walk towards Amorii. He is delighted to see me.
He is delighted to see everybody tonight!
You’re so happy, Amorii! I manage to defy the loud music to piece his ears.
Man, you see this bump? Amorii points his big bump. I nod. She gave me this. I sobered up and asked her. Sweetheart, Who did this to me? She tells me she regrets not killing me. I nod, knitting my eyebrows. He goes on. You see, after that, she told me I am not a man worth making her pregnant! But man, I want a child. My wife should give me one. But you see, I am useless.
So, justmanoe, this time of merry Christmas, I sing and dance and forget. For a man, the time you spend not thinking about a woman, is the most productive. Amorii says and goes back to his dance. More vigorously, more outrageous, more insane!
All I say is Merry Christmas, Amorii.