My first memory of "Christmas" occurred in Havana, Cuba on this very date in 1974. On January the 6th, we Cubans celebrate "El Dia de los Reyes Magos" which translates to the Day of the Three Kings or Wise Men.
The Kings or Wise Men, are the "Magi" who visited the child Christ after his birth. According to Matthew 2:1-2, 7, 9: "after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, "Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we saw His star in the east, and have come to worship Him". It is said that they brought him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Hence, it is on this this day that Cuban children receive gifts.
Anyway, there I am 4 years old, talcum-powdered up, dressed in starchy pressed hand-me-downs and reeking of eau de violets, super excited about having received my government issued voucher which I would later exchange for a shiny new toy.
I arrived at what I remember looking like a huge military hanger or warehouse of sorts where there were hundreds of children accompanied by their parents who were engaged in the cultural ritual practice of waiting in long lines, complaining about the system, and every now and again protesting load enough to either keep their nearby comrades bitch moral up or be heard in heaven.
It was an hour or two and probably many laments and profanities later that my turn had arrived. It was then that I saw the most beautiful object that I had ever laid eyes on in my four long years of life; a beautiful brand spanking new green Russian tricycle. It was material-love at first sight and I could not keep my self from gawking at it wide-eyed and hopeful.
There was a jerk in military fatigues sitting before me, at the table which created an impenetrable barrier between the tricycle and I. He looked over the voucher, while dismissingly talking to my parents and after a brief inspection of my tiny self and no care for thought, walked away and returned with a frail thin composition notebook and a pencil.
After what I have chosen to remember was a spiteful look, he handed me the thoughtless gift and called aloud for the next family in line. I asked about the tricycle and he said that it did not correspond to me, I then asked about any of the other toys piled behind him and he stated that those did not correspond to me either and asked that we please be on our way.
I lacked the vocabulary then to express the what-the-fuck statement this commi bastard had coming to him. All I could do was shed a few tears and ask why. My parents would later explain that those were reserved for families in high positions.
Favoritism and perks technically have no place in a classless society but there I was, looking at a notebook and pencil dumbfounded, never having owned either of the two and not having the slightest clue as to what they were meant for or why I was not allowed a any of the toys which I was being guided farther and farther from.
Interesting is it not, that a communist party would celebrate the birth of Christ via the process of consumption in a system of favoritism?
Contradiction you say?
Yeah, contradiction royally screwed my day of kings.
Cool of you to share a personal moment like that. I do not know you, however, considering the yusef that this website embodies, I would have to say that maybe the notebook and pencil were significant in a futuristic kind of way because you are such an awesome writer.
It was the stories in books that took to the fantasy realms that helped me escape my sometimes less favorable realities and it was in between the blank lines of paper where I found the safest of confidants and divulged my childhood secrets.
So I think that that is a good way of looking at it; a foreshadowing of what was yet to come. I guess that the notebook was the primitive blog then, except I did not yet know how to read/write and had tricycle mechanics all figured out.
Yusef,
This is an amazing story. Growing up in the South Bronx, there were many disappointments to be had especially when it came to gift giving. But, your story tops the cake and should be read to all American children. I have to agree with Yochanan's comment. It was a difficult day for you, but it was, as you mentioned a foreshadow of what was to come. This makes me think about pre-destiny and how our lives are cultivated from the very beginning of all that we do. We never understand it as we go through it, but hindsight is always 20/20.
Feliz Dia de los Reyes!