Always A Roller Coaster Holiday

Holidays are my thing. I believe I truly own them; over and above every other person. I know that almost everyone in this country loves holidays but not as much as I do. It is like I live for it. It has not always been this way. As a child, I hated the fact that there was a day that I would not go to school, except of course, it was Christmas or New Year. I loved to play and holidays were like a pause to that attitude. The fact that I had to wait until 4pm for the television programs to start running helped me to further detest holidays. In Boarding house, my attitude towards holidays was conditional; if it was in-term because it meant more work, more reading time, more sleep and no added play time so I hated it. Mid terms and end of term holidays was a big hurray.

I am glad time passed. Or should I say my perception of holidays changed and appreciation developed.  My undergraduate years worked that wonder. It did not matter if holidays meant more sleep or more reading. I wanted more of them together with more play of course. Play meant more now. Even if I was visiting friends and talking about hairstyles, it was playtime to me.

With every holiday came increased appreciation. By the time I got my first job, I was nothing but thankful that word existed in the English vocabulary and whatever vocabulary that allowed it. 

End of year holidays were typical for me. It meant home to family. I mean home like home- place of origin. In my thirty something years it has always been same location. Okay houses might have been changed but that makes little difference. Leaving away from family has helped me appreciated the people I spend it with however I could not say the same for the location. So it did not matter whether I had money or nay, whether I was in between jobs or lived in a city that promised extra-ordinary fun.

One notable thing I hate was the road trips that led me home. The buses were too full, the luggages that holiday makers had to travel with were humongous and barely manageable, and on top of that, the roads were pathetic. Most times I think the roads were my biggest scare. Years ago, when the Benin by-pass came to be, I thought the road agonies were over. I was an undergraduate then, my contemporaries and I was overjoyed that the journey to Lagos would take not more than four hours. We were happy that Lagos would no more be so far. When I moved to Lagos, I realized how wrong we were, that thanks to the road, you can actually start out one day and get to home on the next.

So this time I started out again with a prayer that nothing unusual elongates the unnecessarily long journey. I started out early as was usual with wayfarers on this route. They say it was the best known way to avoid the jams on the road. I was not so lucky though as the vehicle I boarded ran into one. The equally not so good in roads through the villages saved the journey but not without bumps, some hours at the mechanic fixing the damages caused by the bumps and the sight of this means of transporting

water. I did not even know they still used it. The last time I saw it being used must have been twenty years or more. It gave me something to reflect about but as soon as the welcoming screams of family filled my ear, I forgot about the pail- bearer and let myself hug and be hugged by folks who did not mind that my body was all covered in harmattan dust.

As a new year starts, I cannot help wondering how my next holiday would turn out. Even though I live for the laughter on the faces of my family, I long for something different. Hopefully I would get a destination



Keep faith!