Happy new month to you. It’s December. The final month of the year, the last flip of the calendar leaves (remember to flip your’s if you have not).
December, the month that ushers in the sun-baked wind that sits on our lips and skin, searing them with heat so dry until they crack. This is the month that takes note of that tree opposite the health center in University of Benin, as it deepens its roots fretting and trying to sip water and keep the last of its leaves attached to its branches. It never worked though. Like clockwork, that tree bows to the power of nature and goes bare once the harmattan air sets in.
The leaves fall on the pathway and makes crunchy sounds as you step on them. You may never know, but it is possible that one could step on a dead frog, for nearly all of those green jumpers would be too thirsty to go on living.
December is when the christmas fever finally hits. Like a wave of heat, it turns into a must-have epidemic as each person starts exhibiting the symptoms. Fake trees, fake flowers and fake balls for fruits. You see the lights draped down your neighbour’s roof and you want your’s too. The usual victims in chicken and cows know they don’t have much time to live. Parties are planned. Vacations arranged. Hotel rooms are booked. Afterall, it’s christmas; what harm will a little fornication do? Just remember. It’s about Jesus oh.
December is a month of preparation. For the next year. It is a month of evaluation of the year coming to an end. How well have you spent your’s? Did you score your goals? What about mistakes? What things did you let go of that you should not have? What are you still holding on to that is milking you dry? Let it go before 31st though. Be bold. Be forgiving. Be active. Don’t take them into the coming year.
December is my month. My month of birth. I am December’s Very Own (got that from my name-same, he’s also D.V.O). On the sixth, I will turn 24. Whoa!! That’s plenty sha. It will be the oldest I’ve ever been!!
That was what I told a lady this week and she just flipped. She had asked what school I was and I told her I just finished service. Then she goes, ”Ahan! At what age?”. She did advise me to eat more to make me look bigger. I strongly object. I’m fine like this o.
I should be used to this by now though. Back in my office during the service year, a lady had told her colleagues she was sure I was 18!! Haba! Did I miss the whole of Junior Secondary School? It does happen now though. Rare,but it’s possible to see an eighteen year old in the NYSC program.
Then the boys. Some in secondary school. Saying, ”Please,one minute” or ”Are you on Facebook?”. Or the older ones in the university thinking I just finished secondary school or just entered the Uni,fresh girls for them to dig into.
I don’t mind it anyway. What woman repels a compliment about looking younger. I think it’s in the genes though. I can tell you my mother is ten years younger than she actually is and no one would argue much with me. She looks it!!!
So, if it’s just looks, I’m happy to look younger. But lately, I’ve been jabbing myself that it may be more than that. Call it low self-appraisal, blah blah! But what if it isn’t just how I look?
So my thought train led me through series of possibilities.
Is it the way I dress? Am I trying to make up for not wearing what I wanted as a teenager? What is the right way for a young woman to dress anyway? I do get my own cloths now and I do try to get cloths that would pass the ‘mature’ message. But I am seriously doubting that I am getting it right. I shall go with a chaperone when next I go shopping (Olabisi and Mute 😉 ).
What if it’s more than the cloths? I mean, I could wear them and it would look like I am merely trying to look ‘bigger’ than my age. What’s the way to act? Is it my confidence level that I need to ‘up’ some more? Or do I need to butt into conversations just to show that I know what they are talking about? Should I ask more questions or be quiet and act like I know it all?
And the whole shyness thing. If I want to speak, I do speak. I just don’t see why I should ramble on when I want to be quiet and observant.
But for real, I do think I am happy being who I am. Isn’t that what growing up should really be about? I know there are some responsibilities I have not fully tied to the horse,but how many of us really do have all their ducks in a fine row?
I don’t really know what people define as being grown up though. I would very much like to know. So please, drop your thoughts in the comment box.
In the end though, when Jesus comes, the question won’t be, ”Did people think you were a ‘grown up’ person?”
I think it would be, ”Did you accept and love me”
Happy December good people!! B-) 🙂