We do not mourn when a season of joy is stripped to its carcass. The word humors the loss, but few Nigerians find any humor in this Christmas of 2024.
Christmas, a season defined by the rich aroma of rice and the satisfying crunch of perfectly fried chicken, has now faded into a ghost of its former glory, overshadowed by the harsh realities of hyperinflation and the daily fight for survival in Nigeria.
In markets across Lagos, a 50kg bag of rice has become a vestige of unreachable luxury. In Abuja, the cost sits at a staggering N100,000 — an absurd amount that mocks the memory of when rice was basic sustenance for the hoi polloi, not a luxury reserved for the rich and privileged elite.
The ultimate tragedy of Nigeria’s struggles with poverty and hunger crisis played out in the days leading up to Christmas, when over 75 lives were lost in a desperate scramble for rice. From Abuja to Ibadan to Anambra, Nigerians died fighting for basic food to eat for the season. Children who should have been decorating Christmas trees were crushed in stampedes. They were not bothered about Christmas clothes; they only needed food to eat.
The removal of fuel subsidy poisoned the veins of Nigerian businesses, driving transportation costs through the roof and pushing the prices of basic goods beyond reach. Everything that depends on fuel for production and distribution now bears the scars of this economic strain.
A live chicken now commands between N30,000 and N35,000, with some well-fed specimens soaring to N40,000. Turkeys have climbed to exclusive heights, their prices between N100,000 and N180,000, making them legendary creatures for all but the insanely wealthy. Transportation costs have morphed into an absurd theater of the ridiculous. A road journey from Abuja to Calabar now demands N10,000.
Family members across Nigeria shared pictures of their separate muted celebrations on WhatsApp groups because they could not afford the luxury of traveling home for the festivity and the usual end-of-year family get-together.
Nigerians ate rice without chicken, washed it down with water because we could not afford coke and fanta, let alone wine. We sat and remembered Christmases past when the aroma of chicken pepper soup and turkey drifted through neighborhoods.
But we have mastered the art of making music from empty pots. We joke about how our meatless stew has become our inadvertent contributions to veganuary and PETA movements. In our homes, we craft new traditions born of necessity, learning that the spirit of Christmas refuses to be measured in Naira.
As we close this year, we wonder if future Christmases will be marked by counting what we cannot afford. But we hope that perhaps, in time, we will rediscover the joys and glory that define the true essence of the season.
brightokuta@gmail.com
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