So it's at times like these i miss the AREA where i grew up. Yes i was one of those kids who were kindda sheltered, but i still lived in a YARD and grew up in an AREA. The kindda Area where you heard nocturnal screams of "Dennis, Dennis, this tiff tiff when you dey tiff so, God go punish you o !", and your Daddy and the other men in the yard, went out into the night muttering "This Dennis wahala don start again", but you couldn't reconcile the wahala Dennis who tiffed, with the fine broda who bought you Nikko sweet whenever you went to visit his neighbour. The kind of area where sometime after Dennis dies, you ask his big brother Frank while he gives you a hair cut "Why Broda Dennis like to dey tiff sef ?" and he says "Nor mind am, u hear ? Nor dey tiff o", but sends you home with an embarrassing Bololo that earns you knocks later in school. See, our yard was my nuclear family and Area quite an extended family. Thus i had a lot of Brodas and Sistas, many so fond of me that even to this day, they still recognize me and greet me. Regardless of the fact that my name is "Prisca" to them, though i see no resemblance between me and the girl who grew up next door. Still, so it was and shall ever be, world without end. That area was the sort where everyone realised that the reason i always went buying boiled eggs as a kid, was because my parents were a little bit, itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, slightly, well to do, but the reason i was chewing gum was because i stole some of my mother's money. And right they were. Nor be small flog that day. It was the sort of area where the same Aunty Onyi, who gave the kids in her yard money to go buy fried fish, took you home and reported your longa throat for buying fried fish, and Broda Chikwe the hulky mechanic caught you mid flight, dragged you back home and held you still for you mother's "yansh paralyzing wrath". Yes, everyone had your wellbeing at heart. Well, maybe not everyone. Like the woman whose kpuff kpuff your mother warned you not to eat. Let's face it, there were winshes in you area and your mother probably knew them too. Before y'all who use "hard knock life" as an anthem start making mouth, i did watch films at my neighbour's window, play Kala, Skiskiskilolo, Game boss and all em other games, hide inside that spoilt car and do pressin down with that girl, and run around the street rolling tyres and wheels. Okay, i didn't do tyres and wheels, but i did have a custard lid nailed to a stick. You get the point. The fact that i don't have your scars and and sun burns is only because my parents were hard working, while i feared and respected them. Ain't nothing to be ashamed of. If e pain you well well, go chop monkey sugar cane with lime. Should help you smile better. Now Christmas at my Area, was a seriously fun affair. Everyone planned for themselves and for everyone else. Yup, even if dem nor cook for ya house, don't worry, Area got your back. The Christmas spirit literally announced itself, when the kids went out with drums reminding all "TODAY NA WETIN ? TODAY NA WATCHING NIGHT ! TOMMOROW NA WETIN ? TOMORROW NA CHRISTMAS !" And surely this was indeed watching night, when the chin chins and peanuts and buns were fried. Watching night when frying pans testified to the holocaust of our winged bipedal friends. This was watching night when, yards went to war with other yards, renting the air with "BANGAD". Nah, i didn't partake in these wars back then. What ? Someone has to watch the fried chicken na. Okay, no i stayed home crying. It would take many more years for me to light my first "BANGAD". No one knew when watching night became Christmas, cos one sorta glided into the other. Christmas, meant i got to wear brand new clothes and shoes and lead the other kids on the compulsory visits. Christmas was when you went to one broda's house, wished him HAPPY CHRISTMAS, sat and stood up in the space of two minutes(dat is if you nor like chop rice),and told him, "Broda we dey go o" without moving an inch. Trust me, we nor dey go anywhere until broda dropped something. We had unshakeable faith like that. That was Christmas for us. The fights on how to share the money equally, when you know that broda handed four five nairas to you specifically, and no matter what your mother told you, it was bigger than one fifty naira note. Christmas, the one time when all the winshes were friendly and you never answered the call of "kpuff kpuff" no matter whose house you ate in. Then we moved from Area. Then we grew up. Then i knew my church did not celebrate christmas. And i was a smart ass. Christmas was stupid. It had no bearing whatsoever. Grow up y'all ! Obtain sense ! Jesus wasn't born on December 25th ! Father Christmas is too fat to fit in a chimney ! We don't even have Chimneys down here ! And gradually it went. Soon i was too smart to be a Christian. Now what ? I grew up and y'all grew up too ? Y'all finally obtained sense ? So no kid wants to run around the street drumming again ? Y'all became too poor to feed the entire street ? Y'all butcher chicken according to the number of persons in your house ? Y'all finally found better things to do with money than waste it on Bangad wars ? Is this the price we pay for maturity ? A bleak, boring routine life ? Is this the price we pay for knowledge ? Pride over Joy ? Take away my knowledge ! Take away my age ! Let's all be kids again ! Innocent and stupid ! Somebody bring back Christmas !