_________________________________

by Yukio Saito

This is an essay on Santa Claus dedicated to those who may not be lucky enough to meet him this Christmas Eve. Do you believe that Santa really exists? Personally, I don't remember a time when I was not excited about Christmas Eve. On the night of one Christmas Eve during my childhood days, I got into an argument with a friend over the question of whether Santa Claus existed. So heated was the argument that it eventually brought our friendship to an end. "Come on," my friend said. "There is no Santa Claus in this world! While we are asleep in our bed, our parents put the presents next to the pillows. I know that." "No," I protested. "On the contrary, Santa Claus absolutely exists!" "All right then, if Santa Claus really exists, how does he come into your house? You don't even have a chimney. There's no way he can climb into your home. I live in an apartment too, so I know." "I believe in Santa Claus and you don't. That is all!" Indeed, during that time, my family were living in a small bungalow after my father walked out on us, and there were no chimneys except for the ones at the primary school's incinerator and the public bath. Moreover, at that very moment, I had neither the knowledge nor language to defend my belief in Santa against the onslaught of my friend's questions. Nevertheless, I continued to believe in the magic of Christmas and, for years to come, my heart would jump for joy as the beautiful night of miracles approached. Unlike my cynical friend, I chose to believe in Santa, even though I had never seen him with my own eyes. I'm not a Christian and at that age I didn't even know much about Christmas Day itself. However, every Christmas Eve, my mother would make fruit punch and bake cakes for my close friends (although I hated both of these). I expected the girl that I liked to come to the party. As you can tell, I was just an ordinary boy. Time flew by and, before I knew it, I reached the legal age of an adult. Then, one special night, when I had almost forgotten that it was Christmas Eve, I bumped into someone in the lobby of a hotel next to a ski slope. Lo and behold, it was him, the one and only Santa Claus! Santa was dressed in his red hat and red costume and was carrying a white cotton bag filled with presents for children. However, he was a lot slimmer than I had imagined and he wasn't wearing a black belt. He didn't have a bushy moustache either. Furthermore, he was not a white Caucasian. Instead, he had long and narrow eyes and typical Asian features. By a twist of fate, he was actually Japanese. Even so, in my mind, he was without doubt the real Santa Claus.

Yukio Saito September 2013

I kept my distance and observed him from afar, trying to forget some unhappy affairs of the heart, having broken up with my girlfriend a little while ago. He was smoking a pipe and white smoke rose from it, curling up into the air against the falling snow, as if climbing out of a chimney. Balancing on his knees was a huge volume of a book, which reminded me of the one read by the character Atreyu in the film The NeverEnding Story. There was no text in the book. Nothing had been written in it. From behind a giant glass window, which measured about 500 square metres, he looked out into the relentless snow, surveying the mountains in the distance and the rest of us. I had a whole host of questions for Santa Claus, especially since I had suffered the loss of childhood friends over arguments about him. How does he manage to distribute presents to children all over the world within one night, without even taking time differences into account? How does he enter a house without a chimney? Over the long course of human history, especially since the industrial revolution, the earth has been lit up, allowing us to stay up late. So how many children have caught him out while he is at work? Apart from Christmas Eve, how does he spend the rest of the year? Why is it so difficult for cynical people to believe in him? Who is he really? From an early age, I had found it difficult to talk to people that I didn't really know. Conversations with strangers didn't come easy to me. I had problems overcoming my shyness and this often led me to ignore those who were trying to have friendly chats with me. I was a timid boy, afraid of getting hurt. So I spent a long time mulling over how I should start my conversation with Santa. I knew I had to overcome this barrier and got my first sentence out, even if I couldn't finish what I wanted to say. Eventually, I opened my mouth and uttered, "Are you going on holiday this year? Did you know that it is already midnight now?" Being so painfully shy, I didn't find it easy to answer people's questions either. This was the reason why I was afraid to talk to people, for fear that I would say something silly in response and embarrass myself. However, Santa Claus, with a faint smile and brushing aside my questions, gestured to me to sit down opposite him on an exquisite-looking sofa in the lobby. After settling down on the sofa, I somehow completely forgot what I had planned to ask him. Instead, I found myself talking to him about a recent relationship, which ended only a short while ago. Having listened to my story, he just muttered, "Love is regret". After that, he started to talk about himself in a soft voice. Santa Claus has no friends or family and cuts a forlorn figure. This is why Santa Claus has never received Christmas presents from anyone. Instead, he just keeps giving out presents to other people Christmas after Christmas, year after year. It seems that his dogs too have been trained to keep on running, as if following some kind of predetermined rhythmic pattern. On reflection, I can see that it is the same rhythmic pattern that governs our lives, giving dreams and hopes to us, the never-ending sequential arrangement of Good Morning, Good Night and Thank You. This constant paradigm is also made up of all those tender words from a woman to a man such as "you are wonderful", or from a man to a woman like "you are so beautiful". Special moments like these keep you going and help you through your everyday existence. For some unknown reason, we just keep repeating the same pattern. Yesterday, today and tomorrow, day after day, we do the same things over and over again. To borrow the words of Weber, we seem to be obeying the authority of the eternal yesterday as if, for the sake of our peace of mind, we prefer to stay on the well-trodden path of tradition and customary practice.

Yukio Saito September 2013

"Here you go," he said, handing over to me the massive book that he had been carrying. And then Santa Claus spoke his final words, with a smile of satisfaction as if he had just finished revealing some eternal secrets. He looked like he had just achieved something not easily understood by anyone else. I opened the thick book which had nothing written in it and then, all of a sudden, millions of children's names, addresses and their hopes and dreams filled the empty pages like magic ink. Standing outside the hotel was a red-nosed reindeer with knife-like icicles hanging down from his nose. It had been waiting patiently for the annual big expedition. There were thousands and thousands of presents to be distributed by Santa riding on his sleigh. As for myself, there was also a tight schedule until dawn. Without really knowing why, somehow, I felt relieved for the first time in my life, as if a huge load had been lifted off my back. Slowly, I rose from the sofa and looked up. The snow had stopped and, in the immense darkness of the night sky, millions of dreams, hopes and miracles were there waiting for the children of this world. Do you believe in Santa Claus? Do you believe in yourself? This short essay is a little present from me to you this Christmas. Thank you for reading and Merry Christmas!!

Yukio Saito September 2013