Christmas
keeps giving
Ablorh-Odjidja December 15, 2018
It is easy to tear things
down, but to build the same up is another
matter.
That was my reaction when the
story was written that a kindergarten teacher
told his little wards that Santa was not real.
“There was no Santa for these kids? What for and
what a cruel thing to do!” I said to myself.
This piece is written to show that this
teacher had something missing in his head; the
essence of Santa. Not the corporality of the
jolly figure we see at Christmas. Any adult
should know what was wrong with the
teacher's view of Santa.
Beyond the red outfit
and white beard, Santa is very real.
There
may be cultural and historical objections to a
white Santa for those of us from Africa. We may
thus complain about the racial insensitivity, or
of a cultural misappropriation of a foreign
image. And any of these may be a valid charge.
But the charge should not negate the good will
and joy that undergird the imagery. Nor deny
that we, as Africans, possess the same qualities
in our own cultural affairs. Santa could have
shown up in a child friendly African facemask,
atop a raffia outfit and the purpose of the
message from this teacher would have been the
same – to banish Santa, as a folk concept, from
the thoughts of these fragile kids put under his
care.
And that would have been a
violation of a very human reflection.
Spend one
Christmas in the company of kids, where Santa
Claus was the main attraction, as I did with
some, including two of my own grand kids and you
would have understood why.
When Santa
appeared at the reception organized for these
little ones, I saw the instant joy that lit up
their little faces. All joyful faces,
except those of my grandson and another, both
under a year old, who were experiencing Santa
for the first time. When my grandson
was brought to Santa, he pushed the jolly white
bearded old man away. He was yet to understand
the folk concept that undergird the personality
of Santa. In time, he would discover the joy behind the imagery. Not long
after, my grandson would sit comfortably on the
same Santa’s lap, with his mother close by. If
there was a Santa, he was now in the same
vicinity as his mother.
But my grandson, at his age, should be
excused for his initial irritation about Santa.
It was because of the lack of a knowledge that could
only be obtained from the abstract, which, also,
demanded some maturity.
However, the
kindergarten teacher, long past the age of his
wards, should not be so excused.
Santa,
the abstract expression of joy and goodwill,
should not be destroyed. This immature attempt
to do so should be declared an act of cruelty.
At the end of the reception, about two hours after the
presents and packages were distributed, Santa
was ready to leave. My daughter and my three
years old Granddaughter left to see him off.
Once the door closed behind Santa, my
granddaughter rushed to the nearest window. And
she came back with a puzzled look on her face
and asked, “where is the sleigh”?
Her
mother answered her, “Up the street.”
My
granddaughter left her mother and gleefully
joined her little friends.
Santa had
left the house but the joy on the faces of these
kids remained. They all hoped to see him
again and again. A small but, nevertheless, a
foundation for joy had happened in the lives of
these kids.
Long before my
granddaughter, there was my own experiences with
her mother.
We used often to drive past
the New
York Harbor. Soon as the Lady Liberty statue
came into view, I would tell my daughter that
the statue winked at me. And I would
tell her why the wink, that the statue was there
in the harbor to welcome those who wanted to do
well in America.
I told the story a few
times until one day I said the “wink” story the
last time. And immediately, she responded.
“Daddy, Lady Liberty can’t wink. She is a
stone”!
She was about four but already
grown and more mature than the kindergarten
teacher, who wanted to extinguish the notion of
Santa from the minds of little kids.
My daughter
got to know Lady Liberty was a statue. The difference was
she
never forgot the message. My little white
tale about the "wink" did not damage her. She went
on to get herself a good education, just like
lady Liberty would wish.
And to this
day, she and I still treasure the moments we had
together driving past Lady Liberty, as we did
those moments with the little packages
deceptively planted under our home Christmas
tree as gifts from Santa.
E. Ablorh-Odjidja, Publisher www.ghanadot.com , Washington,
DC, December 15, 2018.
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