Sicilian Christmas Part I

Christmas in Germany was epic – classical, elegant, and everywhere, but Christmas is big in Sicily too, in its own, different way.  Many balconies in our town were adorned with Christmas lights.  Usually it was just one lone strand, but without fail, that one strand would be brightly colored, often multi-colored, and more often than not, flashing wildly.  It’s not tacky, it’s just…different.  Apparently the story of Santa is slightly altered here from our American down-the-chimney version, because multiple balconies also displaced a short length of rope ladder upon which a small plush Santa gripped for his small plush life, black boots dangling perilously.  I thought at first that this was a novelty decoration that one family thought was cute, but as I saw more and more ladder-gripping Santas, it became clear that this was just one of the common scenes of the Sicilian holiday season.

Another Sicilian Christmas tradition, this one receiving much publicity and, guessing from the buzz on base, attracting many an American attendee, is the living Nativity.  It seems that every town in Sicily puts on one or more of these living Nativity performances.  Not having witnessed one myself, I assumed that they were somewhat like the Christmas plays that I had seen in my youth at church.  I heard that the living Nativities here were outdoors, but I assumed that it was the same sort of atmosphere of a Christmas play, taking place in front of a church, perhaps with a makeshift stable and manger. 

On the afternoon of December 23, however, my neighbor, the cheerful P, flagged me down and animatedly told me about a Christmas something or other that was going to happen that evening in our street.  I clearly understood “sta sera” (“this evening”), “sei” (“six”), “qui” (“here”), and “Natale” (“Christmas”).  She also made the motion of drums, so I assumed that at six that evening, there would be some sort of Christmas parade.  She was very adamant about the “qui” part though, and kept pointing to my driveway.  The more she repeated it, it seemed like she was asking permission.  I then began to wonder if carolers were meeting up in our driveway or something, but either way, I answered, “Si, si, va bene!” (“yes, yes, good!”), knowing that Dinosaur and I would be home at six, not needing to go anywhere that evening, and up for whatever was planned for our driveway.

Six o’clock rolled around, and P rang our bell.  Dinosaur and I bundled up, grabbed our cameras, and headed down the long, steep driveway.  What we saw was P, another neighbor woman and her toddler daughter, and a male neighbor setting up a clothed table in our driveway, set with a single sheet of paper and a quill.  A sign taped up on our gate said (I don’t remember exactly how it was in Italian, but Dinosaur and I figured it out):  “The Census of Augustus Caesar.”  Our driveway was going to be part of a living Nativity!

After a short wait, two “guards” arrived and took their places to either side of our gate, with “Caesar,” who took his seat at the table (all high school-age kids).  A bit after that, we heard drumming, music, and singing from up the street, and a crowd descended.  A group of kids lined up in front of “Caesar’s” table, last in line was “Mary” and “Joseph” (oddly, not all the kids in line were in costume).  The kids and the Holy couple filed through and had their names recorded, and then the drumming and music started up again and the procession continued on down our street. 

We didn’t follow the group, which I now regret slightly.  But neither did P or any of the other neighbors, and it seemed like our part in the experience had been fulfilled.  I’m guessing that there were other check-points located around that block, related to the story, and then the group probably convened at the church at the top of our street for a service.  All of that isn’t really Dinosaur’s or my scene, but we were happy to see our picturesque gate used for such a popular Sicilian tradition.  We wished our neighbors “Boun Natale e bouna notta” (Merry Christmas and goodnight) and scampered up our driveway to warm up with hot cider in the villa.

Next week:  Christmas Eve with Bella and IMMA!

The guards and Caesar get set up while a few desperate cars make their way down our street ahead of the crowd.

Caesar registers some farmers and shepherds (normally our gates would be closed, but the sensors were acting up that evening).

The crowds watch the census.

Mary and Joseph are last to be registered.

Drummers and carolers guide the crowd to the next station of the Nativity.