The Five Senses of Christmas
Ilustrations: Henry González
Sight – Christmas Tableau
Christmas Eve …glows in lights as red and green as poinsettias, as golden as frosted bells, as silver as candelabras, and as dazzlingly white as the snow of cold and distant lands. It shines in lights twined around lamp posts in plazas and around tree trunks, arching over streets and dripping from pine trees, glitteringly reflected in the glass of hundreds of windows. The mythical star is echoed by myriad others, guiding me to a manger in the dim blue light of a plasterboard stable. Bethlehem was a hill shoehorned into a corner of my childhood home: a river of gleaming aluminum slithered down the hill and shepherds and sheep trekked past a little bridge, a hut, and a stew pot to the place where a child full of promise would be born. My night, sprinkled with real stars, was never clearer or more temperate.
Carolina Fonseca
Originally from Venezuela, Fonseca has lived in Panama since 2011. She has published four books of her own short stories and compiled anthologies of Panamanian writing.
Sound – Drums and Trumpets for Christmas
Over here there’s no snow or chimneys; we didn’t grow up with the sounds of bells or carols. Our Christmas is different – it plays another tune. After the last patriotic parade in November, we start to hear the sounds of Héctor Lavoe and Willie Colón and their Asalto navideño (Christmas Party), joined by the Gran Combo and Puerto Rico’s greatest sonero: Ismael Rivera.
“Christmas is coming.” Just the sound of this music makes it feel like Christmas. The joyful music is like a blanket of snow: it extends over everything. You hear it on public transportation, in homes, in cars, and in offices. It keeps us company while shopping, painting the house, and cooking the Christmas ham. Our Christmas comes with drums and trumpets; our Christmas has a Caribbean beat.
Jaiko Jiménez
Jiménez is the winner of several poetry awards in Panama. Among other works, he is the author of the poetry collections Versos de la casa de la infancia and Contra el olvido.
Taste – Crab Fest
The Christmases of my childhood tasted of fruit and the sea. The sea, because it was the taste of crayfish, crab, and conch. Fruit, because mango and pineapple perfumed and flavored the memory of those days. In my village in the Guna Yala territory, Christmas also smells of the squash soup with fish prepared for all visitors. It is the magic of living on an island, surrounded by the sea and a stone’s throw from the forest.
I never imagined that, many seasons later, on another continent and under foreign skies, I would relive the taste of the joys of the sea for Christmas. Here in Portugal, cod and octopus anchor Christmas dinner. My Christmases taste of the sea!
Cebaldo de León
Inawinapi
Inawinapi was born in Guna Yala territory but now splits his time between Portugal and Panama. He writes stories about his town and does academic anthropological research.
Smell – Hot Chocolate in Mom’s Lap
What does Christmas smell like? The aromas of this magical and sweet time of year take us back to childhood, since that is when we derived the most enjoyment from the festivities in our childhood homes. It smelled of eggnog, fresh-baked cookies, and the incense of midnight Mass. Mornings were filled with the aroma of hot chocolate, our siblings and grandparents, and the welcome of Mom’s lap. It smelled of the neighborhood, where every house was cooking the festive lunch, but the strongest “smell” of all was our trip around the neighborhood to hand out presents left by baby Jesus.
Danae Brugiati
Brugiati is a grandmother, teacher, and storyteller. She examines the world in five languages. She has published stories, essays, and poetry.
Touch – A Shawl to Warm the Heart
When I came to México, I bought a wool shawl in Chiapas that was made by indigenous women who colored it beautifully with natural dyes. For a lot of reasons, that shawl gave me back the warmth I missed from Cuba; its texture, its warmth, and its birth on a waist loom gave it a humanity that kept me company during the December cold. I wore it my first Christmas in that country. And I wore it again every Christmas, year after year, as I went farther and farther away from my own country to colder and colder places. For me, the sense of touch at Christmas is like my fondness for that shawl: you realize that its touch makes you feel good; it warms your heart and the hearts of others.
Emma Romeu
Romeu is a writer, environmental journalist, and poet who emigrated from Cuba in the late 20th century. Publishing houses in Spain, México, and the United States have released her books.
