SANTA UNWRAPPED

Have you seen that green wrapping paper? The glossy one, smooth to the touch, with prints of candy canes, poinsettias, and bells, hugging the shape of a box. It can be in various colors that have trees, lights, and snowfl akes for design patterns instead. It is delicately laced with a red satin ribbon. Sometimes, it is a paper bag with a small rectangular tag sticking out… To you, from Santa.

It is diffi cult to paint a child’s face when one is presented with a gift. The bubbling joy and excitement from the heart overfl ow into sparkling eyes and warm smiles. The gift is wrapped so pretty that it feels illegal to rip, crumple or ruin the piece of paper that conceals it. Removing the tape without doing so much damage is a must, so you pry its edges with your short-trimmed nails with all of the patience you’ve got. This is how kids usually behave during the yuletide. In short, this was me as a child.

Christmas is my most looked-forward-to holiday on the calendar. Not just because there is no school, but also for the reason that it’s a time for giving. Gifts are great! They make people feel loved and appreciated. The feeling of cluelessness about what is contained behind the wrapper is the only uncertainty that I am joyful of. While gifts are good, it is the giver who matters to me.

I received lots of gifts from someone named Santa. I neither knew the person nor have seen him one time. In a rural community like mine, we don’t have a clear picture of who Santa is. Only a few could aff ord decors that give a grand Christmas feel. There were no synthetic Christmas trees, no color-changing lanterns, no fancy tambourines or instruments to accompany the holiday cheers, and defi nitely, no fi gure of Santa. I had no idea that Santa was all white, from his hair, eyebrows, skin, and beard except for his red clothing. Families in our place have built trees from dried branches stuck in decent empty cans fi lled with stones to make them stand. Star-shaped lanterns creatively crafted out of disposable juice pouches or plastic bottles, hang outside our humble homes. Tambourines for the carols are made from fl attened metal bottle caps of various beverages, holed out in the center with a nail, and arranged in a steel clothesline curled into a circle. That is my Christmas. Mundane as it was, I still loved everything about it. The spirit of loving and giving is alive.

Time seems to slow down when you start counting the days before December 25. Every Sunday this month, my late grandmother and teacher at church usually have a bag of gifts hanging from the ceiling of the gazebo where we conduct our Sunday school classes in. From time to time, we lift our heads up to look at the thing. She would

UNWRAPPED UNWRAPPED Santa

SHERYL ANNE UMALI

then remind us to behave saying, “That’s from Santa, he only gives gifts to nice children.” I remember sitting up properly and listening intently to her Bible stories from that moment on so that I won’t be included on the naughty list. When it is over, I would be overjoyed having received a gift from Santa’s hanging bag.

Visiting one house to another is a common practice for my people during the Noche Buena. As a kid, I would have a collection of envelopes by the time my mom and I go home from the house-hopping. Little notes are written on them… From ninong, from ninang, from tito, from tita, from lolo, from lola, from Santa. With one eye closed, I would peek at the money inside the envelopes and giggle at my mom who was asking about the color of the bills I received. I played hard-to-get when she off ered to keep it safe for me.

Randomly, I would also receive presents during school or church Christmas programs. Santa sent me gifts apart from the ones given by my classmate or my friend during the exchange gift. Clutching not just one but two or three in my arms meant the world to me. I treasured whatever is waiting for me inside those wrappers and held them close to my heart.

As I grew up, I came to know who Santa is from the television and the internet. Yes, he is a white guy riding a sleigh pulled by reindeers mid-air. It did not break me when I realized-- he was not the Santa from my childhood. Because if he was, he would be too tired to even reach our place in the depths of the valley if he was to drop gifts for every child in the world. I knew it! He was not the one who hung the bag of gifts in the gazebo, he was not the one who gave the money envelopes, and he was not the one who sent the random gift I received although the sender wrote the name Santa.

It is only now that I truly understand that Santa is not one person suspended in his red suit who gives presents to everybody. I have it all fi gured out. It was my grandma a.k.a Sunday school teacher who bought the gifts and hung them on purpose. It was my mom who gave the Santa envelopes. It was my teacher-adviser who sent the random gifts at school. It was that kind aunt from church who sent me one during the Christmas program.

Santa is simply the symbol of giving. Santa is a pseudonym used by someone who wants to extend a gift anonymously. He or she could be your loving parent, your close friend, your jolly schoolmate, or a familiar stranger you meet on the streets. Santa could be anyone who wants to give something without expecting anything in return, someone who just wants to put a smile on your face this holiday season.