Nelson’s Santa not so removed from original
RED and green striped hats; floppy red ones with white fluffy edges and pompoms; the occasional pair of ‘‘wings’’; many different forms of imitation reindeer horns (do they know the traditional implication of ‘‘wearing the horns’’ [of a cuckold]?) — the accoutrements of the supermarket staff on a Friday evening early in December were colourful, if bemusing.
Presumably they, with tinselled, artificial trees, were meant to engender ‘‘Christmas spirit’’, as Tom Lehrer put it: ‘‘Angels singing from on high/Tell us to go out and buy’’. And to round off the whole cynical construct of commercialised Christmas, beside tables of foilwrapped chocolates and other temptations, there was a cardboard cutout of a fat pakeha, white bearded, clothed and hatted in red edged with white. A Christmas symbol that seems to be considered, by some, immutable.
‘‘Our 6yearold son burst into tears . . . we had to explain to him that Santa was running late’’ — that was the reaction of an outraged parent to the fact that the ‘‘Santa’’ on the ‘‘sleigh’’ in Nelson’s Santa Parade this year was a nonobese Maori, darkhaired, beardless, wearing, not a red and white suit and hat, but a red korowai.
The present ‘‘traditional’’ Santa Claus wasn’t, contrary to an urban myth, invented by CocaCola in the 1930s (though it exploited the idea), but derived from the English Father Christmas and Dutch Sinterklaas (St Nicholas).
The image was popularised in Canada and the US by the publication of A Visit from St
Nicholas (better known now as The Night before Christmas) in 1823.
Nicholas was a 4th century Bishop of Myrna, known for his generosity, and specifically for anonymously providing dowries for the three daughters of a poor Christian family, so that they wouldn’t be forced into prostitution (do those decrying Nelson’s variation from ‘‘tradition’’ describe the details of that tradition to their children?).
A 15th century painting in the Groeningmuseum, Bruges, shows Nicholas darkhaired, beardless, in a simple blueblack gown, giving to destitute young women, but in an 1850 illustration he’s shown with white hair and beard, wearing a red cassock and mitre, with a black servant in attendance.
So the images from which Santa Claus derives have changed over time, and that’s to be expected. All societies tend to enculturate revered figures from other countries — most European images of Jesus show him as ‘‘white’’, not as the dark Galilean that he must have been.
Similarly, Nicholas, a Greek from modern day Turkey, is likely to have been darker than the Europeanlooking Santa Claus who evolved from Western traditions.
Those who’ve visited St Faith’s Church, Ohinemutu, Rotorua, will recall the image, etched in a window through which the lake is seen, of a Maori Jesus, korowai clad, seemingly walking on the water of the lake.
That image is probably more like the real Jesus than William Holman Hunt’s once popular painting of him knocking at a handleless door. Robert Heriwini, the target of parental angst in the Nelson Santa Parade, was probably more like St Nicholas than the last two centuries’ depictions of Santa Claus.
Nelson’s Santa Parade organisers should be proud of indigenising Santa Claus, not apologetic.
Another Christmas tradition (in Britain at least), much healthier than encouraging small children to sit on unknown men’s knees to receive gifts, is the pantomime.
Cinders — The True Story, at Dunedin’s Globe Theatre, carried on that tradition brilliantly — slapstick, music, men playing women and viceversa, awful puns, variations on the story, and audience participation (triggered at times by signs).
The only slightly sour note was that, with no seats allocated, some of the audience occupied the central seats in a row, leaving a couple vacant at each end, insufficient for the group of four who had to squeeze into three seats, by sitting a small boy on his mother’s lap.
Civis’ grandson, just 5, despite an energetic preceding birthday party, participated enthusiastically for the whole two hours. Great stuff!