Liberian Literary Magazine
situation . It is Christmas morning and we have no stove . It means no cornbread and gravy ; no swallowing ; no NOTHING ! “ Daddy !!!!” Butter screams . We turn in time to see her rushing to the tree . “ Mommy , Santa brought my Baby Alive !” “ Hell no ,” I muttered . “ He ain ’ t done fussah * baby .” Her mom gives me the ‘ kill stare ’. Yes Butter , he brought your presents .”
She goes for the biggest box . “ No , no , not until we do the Christmas tradition Butter . Remember what I told you ?” She says .
“ Big feecee *.” Still referring to the Northpoler . This is my way of internalizing . I go straightly into Liberian English- some deep colloqua or my grannies Settlement impression . Over the years , hanging with her in-laws and in the expat Liberian communities wherever we go , my wife has come to pick up the meanings of most of what I am saying . So mixing it up is my last resort .
She breaks my thought when she says , “ We have to record your Christmas messages for your grandmas , aunty S , her favorite aunt and all the other things I told you about .”
Butter looks up , excitement all in her eyes and suddenly realizes something . She comes rushing into the kitchen . We are both slow to catch her but we follow . That girl should be an Olympic runner . She ’ s won awards two years in a row running for her class . She rushes for everything . She stops and looks around . She seems puzzled .
We are standing there , not sure what all this is about so we wait .
She says , “ Daddy-Mommy ,” her way of getting both our attention . “ Santa passed through the stove ?”
“ There , I knew it !” I shout in my mind . “ She had to know about this .” I thought further . Her mom , puzzled , asks , “ Why do you say that ?” She looks around some more and takes a step back . I see her expression , I know what it means . It is one of accomplishment ; something I bet I do when I do manage to fix an unbroken piece or a broken one for that matter . I push my luck , “ Butter , why did you break the stove ?”
“ I broke the stove because …” she stutters , inhales and says , “ Daddy I broke the stove because …”
I love it when she does that-takes her time to repeat the question before answering it . Now , however , there wasn ’ t much to love about anything . She turns to her mum and says , “ I have no idea .”
For some reason , within the last week , she has taken I have no idea to be her way out of just about everything . I was not having any of that .
Promoting Liberian literature , Arts and Culture
“ What !” I jump in . “ How can you have no idea ? You spent time taking things apart . You were thinking every step of the way . You have more than ideas .” Her mum chimes in , “ Let her talk . Why ?” We wait , me anxiously . I know this bugger , she is a natcho after all . Rarely does she act without reason .
She places her finger in her mouth , bites on her nails and says , “ Mommy-Daddy , no chimney . I wanted Santa to bring 100 presents for me .” There it goes , her favorite number and preposition- for . She has this thing with prepositions . She often uses it wrongly . She has figured out that ‘ for ’ is ownership and will use it anytime she can . This time , however , she uses it correctly . Normally , I ’ d be hugging and kissing her excitedly when she uses it correctly . This is a way of getting her note it and remember . She loves it when we act like that so we use it to validate things we approve . But that was not happening here .
I turn to the mother and say , “ Well , we will have a new tradition this year . Your daughter has managed on her second Christmas that she can understand things to break the flow and add a new thing .” I am a typical Liberian . When the child does a thing well , she is ‘ my child ’, ‘ my boy , or my baby girl ’. If it is not so admirable , it becomes the mother ’ s child-hence my ‘ your daughter . Yet a huge part of me could not help but to admire the way she figured out how to take that stove apart . Of course I could not say that now , not unless I wanted the mum to crucify the two of us . I secretly noted to reward the girl for it .
The mom looks at me and says , “ Fix this mess you and your child have created .” She then walks out .
We stand there for a brief moment and then she remembers her presents and dashes out , “ Mommeee ! Where is my Baby Alive Santa brought ?”
“ There they go again- Santa I swear , if I hear that name once more , I will go mad . My body is aching like crazy , every bone in me is sore . God , tell these people to not call that man ’ s name again .” I think to myself .
We do the whole tradition thing which by the way is a mix of two different cultures and families . We have found a nice way to make one out of the two . The women are all smiles . The woman seems to have succeeded in hiding my present nicely away from me . I searched this house for few nights looking but to no avail . She also refused to let me know what I inside . Oh that is another thing about me . I love to know . I am all for surprises and all , but I like to be told-dude , this is
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