In Caracas, where I lived as a child, one of the most beautiful traditions was the visit of the Baby Jesus, which took place in the early hours of December 25. At that time, the Baby Jesus would pass by my house and leave gifts for the little ones.
Preparations for that day began much earlier, about two weeks beforehand. My mother would call my brother and me together to write our letters. When we were younger, she wrote the letters for us, but once we were old enough, we had to write our own letters.
My mother would ask us what gifts we wanted. If they were too expensive, she would tell us we couldn't have them. She would then explain that the child had to deliver many gifts and therefore could not afford to give very expensive ones.
When the letter was finished, my mother would patiently place it at the foot of the Christmas manger. It would remain there until the 24th, when it would disappear because the Child had taken it to find the gifts we had asked for.
The mystery of the Baby Jesus lasted until we were nine or ten years old. Before that, there was always some evil person at school or in the neighborhood who would tell you that the Baby Jesus was actually your dad. In my house, they solved that part in a rather clever way. They told us that the Baby Jesus had already done his part and that from now on we would receive gifts from our parents.
The news that the Baby Jesus would no longer be bringing gifts always caused some sadness, but in the end, we accepted that it would be our parents who would continue to give us gifts.
After the age of twelve, things changed a bit. On the nights of December 24 and 31, we were allowed to do things that were not permitted the rest of the year, such as going out to visit the neighborhood.
My brother and I took advantage of that moment of freedom and went for long walks, playing pranks on our neighbors. We often went into unfamiliar houses and asked for candy and pieces of cake. That seemed normal, because even though no one knew us, they treated us like friends and always gave us things. The truth is that those two nights were very special.
I kept up the tradition of the “Baby Jesus” with my children, just as my parents had done until I was nine or ten, at which point we told our children that the Baby Jesus had entrusted us with the mission of continuing to give them gifts.
My children have also kept up the tradition, even those who live in Spain, where there is no celebration of the Baby Jesus, but rather its equivalent, Three Kings Day, in January, when children receive their gifts. In that sense, my granddaughters are very lucky because they receive gifts on both dates, Christmas Day and Three Kings Day.
Currently, the tradition we maintain is the preparation of hallacas, a typical Venezuelan Christmas dish consisting of a corn bun filled with stew and wrapped in banana leaves.
We prepare this dish at a large family gathering, sharing it with sisters-in-law and nieces. Preparations begin on December 22 with the making of the stew, then on the 23rd, in the morning, we proceed to make the hallacas, so that everything is ready for Christmas Eve.
We also maintain the tradition of having a family gathering to say goodbye to the old year and welcome the new year. We do this on December 31, the last day of each year.
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Translated with DeepL.com (free version).
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