The Night Santa Claus was arrested
The Night Santa Claus was arrested
A Syrian short story from the spirit of Christmas
It was Christmas night, and Santa Claus was crossing into the Syrian sky with his sleigh when he was forced to land at the closest military airport. He was arrested and led to the room of the security officer in charge that night for interrogation. The room was not different from others of the military compounds of the Assad’s regime. As soon as you enter, your eyes will be hazed by clouds of cigarette smoke and your nose will be penetrated by a unique smell that is a mixture of mold, burned sugar, beer and other cheep alcoholic drinks and, of course, the familiar smell of the Hamra* cigarette (*a local brand). The decoration includes a metal desk that gave up its sides to the rust, a Matteh* cup that is full of leaves (*a local herbal hot drink also called Jerbeh), a bag of sugar that is surrounded by the sugar drops here and there, an electric boiler that has a missed up cord and an ashtray that is full of cigarettes’ filters and ashes. At the far corner, you see a military iron bed with a mattress decorated by food stains, giant cockroaches run freely every where and portraits of ‘The Assad’s Holy Family; the Father, the Son and the Brother’, all are at the wall which is not allowed to carry any other portraits to any other one. The investigation officer was a young man in his twenties, white with sandy hair. He was not trying to hide his happiness with the two stars of his lieutenant military rank he had on his shoulders. No Syrian as well can be mistaken with his authoritarian attitude. Closed to him was sitting the interrogation writer who looked like the same age and origins, but without a rank.
The officer to Santa: ‘Your name, nationality and residency’
Santa: ‘My name is Santa Claus, I don’t have any nationality and I reside at the North Pole’
The officer to the writer: ‘Write down the accused admitted that the North Pole is also part of the Global conspiracy against Syria’. The officer then filled up his Matteh cup and took a long sip with the special metal straw while Santa laughed at the funny noise the sip caused.
The officer to Santa: ‘Am I making you laugh here? (cursing him), a conspirator and you want also to laugh?’
He then continued after cursing him again: ‘what are you smuggling with your reindeer carriage?’
Santa: ‘Toys and other Christmas presents for children’
The officer: ‘Do we still have children in Syria? Didn’t you here what we did in Al-Hula* and Al-Qubbair*; we didn’t kill a few children there, but the whole childhood. Don’t you have a TV in the North Poll?’ (*2 massacres committed by Assad thugs where children where slaughtered by knives)
The officer to the writer: ‘Write down, the accused admitted he was smuggling weapons and explosives for the gangs of terrorists’. He then took another sip through the straw, made the same funny noise and Santa laughed again.
The officer ignored the laugh this time and continued the interrogation: ‘What also are you here for?’
Santa: ‘I noticed that Syria has been in the dark for more than forty years, and even became darker during the last two years. I, therefore, brought with me a lot of lights for decoration and for the spirit of Christmas as well’.
The officer: ‘Are you really stupid? Don’t you know that electricity in Syria is only to be used on human bodies, but not for decoration or celebration?’
The officer to the writer: ‘Write down, the accused admitted possessing forbidden materials to bribe those who can be easily fooled’
The officer to Santa: ‘And what is the story of the eight reindeers?’
Santa: ‘Rudolf, Cupid, Comet…’
The Officer to the writer, interrupting Santa: ‘Write down, the accused admitted he stole the reindeers and, therefore, they will be seized in the name of the state. They will be sent to the kitchen to be slaughtered and cooked, a feast will be held and His Excellency will be invited.
The Writer, scared, to the officer: ‘Sir, when you say His Excellency, do you really mean HIS EXCELLENCY, HIS EXCELLENCY*?’ (*Assad)
The Officer to the writer: ‘You dummy, do you think the HIS EXCELLENCY, THE HOLY ONE has time to join us here? Don’t you see he is fighting the Global conspiracy? I meant by “His Excellency” the colonel commander of the airport.
The Writer: ‘What about the accused and the material he has?’
The Officer: ‘Look at his beard. I have no doubt that he is a fundamentalist terrorist. So let’s keep him jailed, and let’s have his belongings delivered to my house until we decide what to do with them’
Santa: ‘But the beard is an issue of personal freedom’
The face of the officer flipped quickly when he heard the word “Freedom”, and he started chocking and screaming: ‘You too want freedom? How come freedom is after us every where? How come all of you now want freedom?’
At this point, it looks like pronouncing that word three times killed him. The officer suddenly stopped talking, fainted and fell before finishing what he was saying. The writer, meanwhile, ran as a “crazy” outside the room before the effect of the word got through his nervous system. The dawn was about to take over, so Santa Claus left the room quietly, took off with his sleigh and flew away from where he had come. He decided to come back next Christmas where he might find children, happiness and…freedom.
***
Translated from Arabic
Tarif Youssef-Agha
An Expatriate Arab Syrian Writer & Poet
Member of the ‘Syrian Revolutionary Writers Assembly’
Christmas Day, Tuesday December 25, 2012
Houston, Texas
http://sites.google.com/site/tarifspoetry