Season Of Peace & Goodwill

Bethlehem & Abbas

I'm not at all interested to go theological or historical on this entry of mine - I'm aware of the 'alternatives' to Christmas, the reason, practice, what used to be - instead I'd like to just sit back and enjoy the feeling of peace and calm on what was a celebration of the birth of peace in the form of a child in a manger.

Woke up this morning and the first thing I googled were news of celebrations in Bethlehem, the place where it all began. It was uplifting to read about the accident-free celebration there and was especially taken in by the Palestinian Prime Minister Mahmoud Abbas' act of attending midnight mass in the Church of Nativity. I'm sure he wasn't there to celebrate the religion, rather as a brother of those around him who seek for peace and friendship in that land of strife and conflict.

He wasn't the first who did it though. I'm not sure who else did but the late Yasser Arafat attended mass on midnights as long as I can remember until the Israelis put him under house arrest, all the way until his death in 2004.

Both Arafat and Abbas could be seen by cynicals as to appeal to the demographics of Palestinian Christians as well as the international community by putting on a face of solidarity but let them have their column inches.

I am more interested in the idealistic idea of them being there to celebrate the miraculous birth of a child that is revered in both Christianity and Islam. The passages in both holy books were similar in speaking of Yeshua or Isa as the child born of virgin Mary or Mariam, hence I suppose the kind bond shared between the Palestinians of both sides.

I sincerely hope he continues doing so, and his predecessors and their predecessors, in a sincere heart of wanting to come together with the people and have a peaceful day of strengthening the brotherhood of citizens living on the same piece of land.


Tracking Santa
Apparently you can track Santa's trip across the world on the Internet nowadays, thanks to the folks at NORAD. If the acronyms sound familiar or even weird, then you should be because I was puzzled by it at first when a member of a UK-based forum posted topic about it, thinking what the heck is the North American Aerospace Defense Command would be doing with Santa.

Apparently, a typo on a Sear's advertisement of a phone call to Santa led children to call up NORAD, reading their lists of gifts of the Christmas to the unknowing military person in charge at the other end. They went "What the-" at first but thought it was a novel idea to do something that might be of good fun to children by starting to 'track Santa' on his trips from the North Pole across the world. It became a tradition that lived until today.

Who said the military guys were humourless and without heart?


What It's All About

Santa is, quite rightly, the most marketable trademark in the world - the portly old man with long white beard, gold rimmed glasses, red uniform, big bag of gifts and a reindeer sleigh - is known worldwide as Father Christmas. He is synonymous with giving gifts and spreading of goodwill, proclaiming his presence with a hearty "HO HO HO".

It's nice with all the snow, trees and all that but Christmas is really not about Santa.

Shocking? Well, not at all, seeing that he's a rather neutral character whose only crime were breaching international airspace agreements without a passport, as well as a symbol of cheer for the children, hence classic image of him climbing down chimneys of houses to deposit a gift into oversized socks at the fireplace, or pieces of coal for naughty kids.

Rather, Santa was what came from Christmas - the birth of the Saviour. His birth brought about hope to a world that was under thrall of sin, hence 'joy to the world'.

That joy isn't Santa, it's Christ.

Still, who am I to spoil the mood for the festivities eh? After all, I enjoy walking about the gingerbread houses setup at shopping malls, looking at children playing and laughing amongst the Christmas tree, artificial snowflakes and having their photos taken with Santa and his reindeer.

Let children be children, I'd say.

If asked what sort of Christmas would be the most perfect for me, I'd say the chance to travel back some 2000+ years into the past, to the barn where a little child is sleeping in heavenly peace in a crib beside his mother and foster father amongst the sheep and donkeys.

Nothing in the modern era will ever surpass this experience.

What was that?

It was the second visit in which my cousin had made back to Malaysia ever since taking up a job with a software firm in Singapore. He had much to pack and move out of his room so had to make several visits before it's all over.

As usual I picked him up from Puduraya at the ungodly hour of 3.00 am on Saturday morning and there goes, our crazy sleepless hours all the way until noon or so. The usual programme is to make a trip to Klang for bah kut teh or the laksa shop as my cousin regain the taste that is 'food' after the ordeal of some rather ... 'tasteless' and 'crappy' food in the island republic.

Don't ask me why or spam me for writing this but having first hand accounts of cuisine from both sides of the Causeway allow him the freedom to judge on something that is close to his heart (or stomach), concluding that 'the food sucks'.

The nasi lemak in SS25 (26? I can't ever get the Sections in PJ right) were a godsend, I'd imagine to him. I had two good cups of teh tarik in an effort to stay awake. Sufficed to say it helped kept me up for the entire day!

Still, the most unusual thing to happen on what was a routine pack and move day(s) occurred at 6:30am when we were both talking in his rented room in Kelana Jaya. As usual we do the usual rubbish and exchanged stories (mostly from him) while the packing was done, when suddenly we stopped.

Our heads turned sharply to the direction outside his door and towards the staircase.

It was clear enough that he and I both noticed the same thing - the rather feminine or childish voice of a giggle as if laughing together with him and I about a joke.

Our conversation carried on with me looking at him pretending that nothing had happened while he looked for a while there, before continuing. I was already feeling somewhat uneasy (compounded by the ... motion passing that I was holding back for a bit), so I left to look for a petrol station to relief myself.

Why the petrol station? Many reasons, one being that there aren't any toilet paper left and the second being that I don't want to stay in the room by myself behind a closed door.

And that wasn't the first time, he said...