The many happy faces of St Nick
The gift-giver in Russia has been a contentious political character for the last century. When the communists took control of the country in 1917 they retired their Western-style St Nicholas and suppressed Christmas.
By the 1930s, elements of the festival began to revive, although Stalin and his authorities favoured Ded Moroz, or Grandfather Frost, as he’s known, to pass out the goodies. He was an unusual choice. According to myth, he was a god of the underworld in charge of frost. He liked to freeze people and kidnap children, which he spirited away in a sack. Distraught parents used to ply him with presents as ransom to get their kids back.
He sports a fabulous white beard and dresses suspiciously like Santa Claus, with a long, heavy red-and-white woollen coat and jackboots; although he differs in that he goes everywhere with a magical staff and a companion — Snegwochka, the Snowmaiden, who some claim is his granddaughter.
Also, he delivers his presents in person. His stock is high at present, having beaten off a Russian craze for Santa Claus in the 1990s, as the country emerged from decades of suppression enthralled to commercialisation. Russians have come to love his earthiness — he’s a moody character, often appears a bit dishevelled, likes to swill a jug of vodka and, unlike his puritanical Western counterpart, doesn’t care as much about whether children are good or bad.
Sinterklaas, or St Nicholas, is an unusual character. He’s Turkish, but arrives in The Netherlands by steamboat from Spain. (This is because he was originally a bishop from an area of present-day Turkey in the 4th century whose remains ended up in Bari, Italy, which was once a part of the Spanish kingdom.)
He’s accompanied on his winter mission by a band of helpers called Zwarte Pieten, or Black Petes. These guys, who dress in colourful Moorish clothes, have blacked-out faces, a bit like the minstrels from the old Lyons Tea television ads. They’re impish by disposition, which isn’t too surprising, given that Zwarte Piet was a name for the devil in medieval times.
There are competing stories about where they came from. Odin, a god amongst Germanic peoples, used to have black ravens in tow. Some believe they originate from The Netherlands’ colonial past in the 19th century.
Once Sinterklaas gets to The Netherlands, he dashes around the country’s rooftops on the night of December 5 on a gray horse. Careful not to get soot on his long, white beard, he shimmies down chimneys and leaves small presents or sweets in children’s shoes which are left by the fireplace.
Defecation forms a big part of Christmas culture in Catalonia, the north-eastern part of Spain. The Tió de Nadal (Christmas log) or cago tió (literally “shit log”) is a short, hollow log, little more than a foot long, which is propped up on stick legs with a smiley face, three-dimensional nose, topped off with a Christmas hat. It’s covered with a red blanket. In the weeks running up to Christmas, it is fed every day, ideally with oranges or turrón, the local nougat. When Christmas Day arrives, the family gathers round and beats it with a stick and sings Tió de Nadal songs to help it make a motion. Magically, gifts squirt out under the blanket. (Larger presents arrive on January 6 courtesy of The Three Wise Men.)
In Catalonia , the Baby Jesus and his entourage in the nativity scene are also joined by a curious character, the Caganer. (Cago, as you can gather, means “shit”.) He’s usually tucked away amongst the donkeys and shepherds (children love having to find him). The little figurine is crouched on his haunches grimacing, as he’s about to go to the toilet. Traditionally, he’s depicted as a Catalan peasant, although enterprising merchandising folk have lately churned out figurines of celebrities (Lionel Messi, Michael Jackson) or politicians (Barack Obama, but not yet one of Enda Kenny).
Befana is an old witch. She gets around Italy on a broom, which she also uses to whack children if they see her (which she doesn’t like; she prefers that they don’t wake up in the middle of her duties) and to sweep the floor before departing for the next house.
Befana ain’t pretty, but she’s often seen smiling, or cackling, and wears an old shawl, which is black from the soot she gathers on her travels.
On the night of January 5, she fills children’s stockings with sweets and presents, if they’re good, and coal, onions or garlic if they’re bad; although most Italian children are left with at least one piece of “coal” — a blackened piece of rock candy, as no one can be good all year-round.
The hardest-gigging man at Christmas must be Christmas Grandfather, Ziemassve-tku veci-tis, Latvia’s answer to Santa Claus, or “Big Zimmer”, as he’s known for short. He clocks in a 12-day shift. From Christmas Eve, for a dozen nights, he deposits presents under the Christmas trees of Latvia’s grateful population. Latvia invented the Christmas tree. The earliest recording of an evergreen Christmas tree, dating back to the early 16th century, comes from the main square in Riga , Latvia ‘s capital.
THE Western World’s concept of Santa Claus has muscled its way into nearly every corner of the globe. Beijing in China is an obvious example. Although Chinese New Year, the country’s festive season, doesn’t fall until a month after Christmas Day, the city’s chimney chutes are overrun with Santa Clauses every December. There are, however, a few Santa-free zones (well, almost).
There aren’t many people in Antarctica, maybe a thousand, many of whom are ex-patriots who man research stations. Consumerism isn’t a feature of the continent. If gifts are to be doled out, they have to be ordered nearly five months in advance.
It’s a brave man that plays Santa Claus to North Korea’s Christian population, which estimates put at 100,000. Christians can be arrested for celebrating Christmas, although it doesn’t stop some defectors from smuggling foreign clothes and sweets into the country for underground worshippers of the fat man in the red suit.
Non-Muslim religious activities are banned in public in the birthplace of Islam, but behind closed doors in the country’s embassies, Santa Claus has been known to make an appearance or two.
Iran’s minority Christian population conducts a 25-day fast from animal products in the run-up to Christmas Day. Gifts aren’t passed around, although new clothes are shown off during Christmas week.
Families and neighbours get together for a big dinner on Christmas Day, but owing to poverty levels usually only one present will be given out afterwards to each child, although many go without.
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