Seven days before these part of the world jumps into another year, the scents of the festivity were already fuming with so much ease.
Six in the morning yet the congregation of fire woods heating up the pot of yam was nothing rare.
With the church decked in red and white, it was obvious that the season was his.
Five of us each went into the curtained altar behind which was Santa who had full beards and fake blonde hair,
It was my first time seeing one and I could feel my eyes freeze.
I could not help but stare,
I was scared of the fact that my father might have lied to me about who Father Christmas really is.
He poked me closer and I noticed his black skin color through his left ear,
My expectation of a white Santa clause crushed even more when he placed his black lips to my cheek for a kiss.
He brought out something from the lot that his bag constitute,
And gave me a pack of wrapped chocolate cheese
Three year from my teenage; I was none the wiser and I still wanted to believe my dad’s truth,
Not until the whizzing spree of a wild harmattan breeze.
His fake white bears separated from his chin and covered his dirty set of clumsy tooth,
If there was any error left on Christmas then upon me it release.
As he struggled to put the bears back on,
Two writs of dusty flecks came upon his face as he was about to hunch out some irritants from his nose,
His face became blunt like one with a cold disease.
And now I could see his true black complexion,
Out of a beautiful day; great disappointments arose,
One thing was left to be said here for my day not be ruined.
“Santa please don’t sneeze”.
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