Identity crisis for man in red

THE people of this country have long envied and emulated all things American at the expense of a South African culture.

Childhood memories are of my teenage sisters dressed in bobby socks and sneakers. To complete the American teenage look were flared dresses over many layers of starched net petticoats.

The final touches were a pair of dark glasses, a ponytail and bubble gum. The in thing was to chew gum with your mouth open and to blow really large bubbles which popped all over your nose and got stuck in your hair.

When the bubble gum became tasteless or your jaws were sore, whichever came first, you could stick the gooey mess under the table or the chair. How revolting.

At the time there was Elvis and Pat Boone and the jive, rock n roll, Cadillacs and motorbikes.

Even the hippie movement a decade later originated in the States and it became fashionable to wear a white Vietnamese head band in protest against that nasty little American war.

There was always this sense of a lack of pride and of ridicule among a certain section of the population of almost everything produced locally, be it music, theatre, or culture. Anything from overseas was better because it was imported.

Posh people loved to boast about their imported this and imported that.

And although Madiba restored our pride in our country and in ourselves and in the achievements of our countrymen, there’s still a habit of copying the ways of our American cousins. We still see it in music and fashion and attitudes and that is perhaps an illustration of the power of television and the internet.

But when did Father Christmas become Santa?

Merry Christmas to you all!