Portrait of a Man

Julian E. Obubo

picture taken by Justin Tay

Dreaming of a White Christmas: The Awkwardness of European notions of Christmas in a Nigerian Setting

I remember when I was about 14, sitting around with some American friends (in school in the Netherlands) discussing Christmas, one of them asked another at what age they stopped believing in Santa Claus. I was taken aback, was this some kind of joke, did people actually believe in Santa Claus. Did kids grow up thinking that a fat guy actually could fit into their chimney unnoticed and leave gifts? I found it unbelievable that at any age, someone would believe such a fantastical story, but I guess I had no idea about the cult of Santa Claus in the west, particularly in America.

See, I grew up in Nigeria, and Santa Claus, or Father Christmas as we call him is well known there, he adorns Christmas cards and Christmas decorations and can be seen all over TV adverts during Christmas time. But as a child I knew of no one like me who actually believed Father Christmas was real, real in the sense that it was he not your parents who delivered your gifts on Christmas day.

Although during Christmas time we were saturated with images of this foreign benevolent gift distributor we just could not identify with him on many levels. Not only is the idea of a white man dressed in winter clothes in the sweltering heat of Nigeria quite strange, but all the iconic apparatus that supported the myth of Santa Claus were very unfamiliar to us, we had no concept of what a chimney was, or mistletoe, or snow, sleighs or even reindeers. All these things were apparently common in Europe and America but they were and are alien to us, and it happened that during Christmas we threw out our cultures and traditions and adopted this strange fitting idea of a ‘White Christmas’ with mistletoe, pine trees, snow and eggnog, for a brief period in the year we were European, we were like those people on the TV with their knitted cardigans around the fireplace. The feeling I have is that we as a culture felt it was impossible to have an authentic Nigerian Christmas.

And this feeling of ‘White is Right’ was subconsciously ingrained into my little-head when I was young. My dad worked at an international agricultural agency, and so he had many colleagues from Europe and North America. At the annual Christmas party, one of his white colleagues was the Santa Claus for the day, and it felt right as a kid, for this white costumed man corresponded with the white Santa Claus from the Coca-Cola adverts and Christmas cards. I remember quite clearly as a kid feeling some sort of superiority over my friends who did not enjoy this ‘white privilege’ and thus had to endure a counterfeit ‘Black Santa Claus’, through a complex media and commercial machinery I had been indoctrinated that Santa Claus could only be white, and any other depiction was vulgar and illegitimate.

And I think to a large extent, these things are still true in Nigeria and other parts of the non-white Christian world today. It’s beautiful to see how other cultures have adapted and adjusted Christian practices to fit their respective cultures. There was once a point when exuberant singing and dancing was frowned upon in Anglican churches in West Africa, now you’d be hard pressed to walk into any Anglican church where dancing and jubilant singing is not part of the service.

This ownership of the Christian religion should also apply to Christian festivals that now have a larger secular meaning; we can create a genuinely Nigerian Christmas without having to borrow strange customs from the west. It’s about time we put our own unique stamp on Christmas.

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I don't want you to get the impression that I'm simply blogging pictures of myself instead of my words, well that is partially true, but I promise something verbose soon. Till then, enjoy:

The Brain that Wouldn't Die

I'm finished with all my work (Thank Jesus) so I cook myself some nice pasta and roast chicken, thinking of what to watch? Scrubs? Everybody hates Chris?..I went on Stage6 and browsed for movies. I stumbled on "The Brain that Wouldn't Die" and I was very impressed. The whole atmosphere of the movie is very serene and understated, the dialogue is a bit wooden sometimes, but the jazz soundtrack is amazing, and as far as I'm concerned the cinematography and directing are superb.
Basically the movie is about a young surgeon who is obssessed with transplanting human parts, well one day as he travels with his fiance to his lab, they have an accident and she is decapitated, well..he saves her head and manages to bring her head to life (her body burnt in the crash)...He is bent on marrying her, so he goes about trying to get a body for his lover. Meanwhile, Jan, his fiance..or Jan-in-the-pan is not impressed with her boyfriend preserving her in a body-less state. That's basically it, well there's other important stuff, but it will spoil it for you who want to watch it. And no it's not horror, there's very very little blood (..it's in black and white)The movie is just peculiar.
I recommend it a.k.a LAURA go and watch it!