From the East Father Christmas arose, and in the West he became a popular iconic totem, now his status has partially been reinstated in Egypt and much of the Orient precisely because of the spread of Western-style consumerism, a way of life the Greek Saint Nicholas may not have approved of, writes Gamal Nkrumah, through the lens of Sherif Sonbol Saint Nicholas, a Greek man of God, is the true inspiration behind , or Father Christmas. He lived in the Anatolian Byzantine town of Myra, today's Demre in Turkey, a predominantly Muslim nation. His fame spread westwards and divers and often contradictory legends arose about the benevolent Greek saint who offered dowries to impoverished perspective brides to lure them away from decadent lives as harlots and call girls. In most contemporary Western cultures he has come to be associated with children as opposed to prostitutes. In Cairo, he stood tall, quaking in his gigantic boots, after all, Cairo is the greatest city in North Africa and the Middle East to do business in. Depending on where you live in Cairo this matters a lot right now. The dire prognosis of many Cairenes: the city is becoming hopelessly Westernised and 7,000 years of recorded history have taught Egyptians to think sceptically and act as if there is no tomorrow, cherishing grandiose visions of the Paris of the Nile that the Khedeive Ismail conjured up more than a century and a half ago. The rickety state of public finances seem to contradict the shopping spree of Cairenes at Christmas. "You'd think Cairo is a Christian capital, and a Roman Catholic one at that," an acquaintance who has never accepted the concept of feting a Christian saint, derisively dismissing the entire Santa razzmatazz as "heretical". There are many Muslims, however, who are far less doctrinaire. "Why did God give Christians ? Why don't we Muslims have Father Christmas?" six- year-old Shahd asked her dumbfounded mother. "Sweetheart, Santa presents his surprises to both Christian and Muslim children," Shahd's mother replied after a long pause. "Santa never asks whether you are Muslim or Christian. He dishes out his presents." But when Shahd asked for a Christmas tree, her mother gently declined the suggestion, reminding her daughter that their home was lavishly decorated in Ramadan with luminous lanterns. The mother's friend, a devout Muslim, argued with Shahd's mother about the logic of denying her daughter the sheer pleasure of having a Christmas tree and decorating it. The mother replied that it is not the Christmas tree itself, "it is the celebration around it that I can not do to my children as a Muslim mother." The fun of having the Christmas tree adorned with eye-catching baubles and surrounded by a bundle of surprise boxed presents, waiting to be unwrapped on Boxing Day is a fairy-tale fantasia. By the way, Shahd's mother told her friend that her son, Shahd's brother Abdel-Rahman, played the role of Father Christmas at his nursery's Nativity performance this year. It was such fun with his cotton beard glued to his tiny chin. He wasn't aware that he was participating in a part pagan, part Christian ritual. He couldn't have cared less. Others do. "We have to preserve our identity. We have Ramadan when we celebrate and put up decorations. It is not our custom to do so. We mustn't blindly ape others," said a colleague of mine, and an arch-critic of Father Christmas and Christmas trees. He noted that Christmas Day, which happens to fall on a Friday, will kick off no doubt in the Friday sermon in the neighbourhood mosque. " Inshaallah, we will enjoy the holiday like any other Friday, nothing special at all." Who questions key articles of faith? Those who hold strong opinions against Christmas and New Year celebrations do not necessarily have concrete implications for everyday action, even when they impinge on local customs and traditions. Egyptians on the whole do not have anything against approaching celebrations of any sort with anything but utter abandon and excitement. They are consumerist as hell, craving the joy of having a good time, as Sonbol's images vividly demonstrate the intrinsic Egyptian lust for life.
