That my birthday falls on Christmas Eve accounts not only for many of my emotional scars but also for my bitterness towards the season itself. Tales of so-called "joint" (birthday-Christmas) presents from cheap relatives tend to elicit the expected pity from Europeans, yet Japanese friends are slower to commiserate. In Tokyo a Christmas birthday is considered romanchikku (romantic) rather than unfortunate.
In any case, Christmas presents are rarely exchanged in Japan, in spite of the skinny Santas infesting the streets of Tokyo. With Christians making up less than 1 per cent of Japan's population, the holiday is free of the religious baggage so galling to traders. In the past, however, the day was dedicated to the memory of an altogether different man-god, Emperor Taisho, the father of Hirohito, who died on Christmas Day in 1926.
With Christ and commerce removed, Japanese Christmas is little more than tinsel and fairy lights, an annual extravaganza of inconsequence. On the 25th itself, Christmas is dismantled like a vast Potemkin village to be replaced by the traditional Shinto new year decorations of pine and straw. The most important of annual events, the Japanese new year, has many of the trappings of a western Christmas, such as family gatherings, elaborate meals and the exchange of cards, gifts and Pok?mon.
The custom of presenting year-end gifts (seibo) conforms to the exacting Japanese system of social obligation that confounds most westerners. Along with chugen (mid-year gifts), seibo are usually given to superiors and business contacts, but never within one's family. The custom arose from the tradition of sharing gifts offered to ancestors in commemoration of the new year or at the midsummer Festival of the Dead. The modern-day form of gift-giving is governed by the concepts of on and giri (duty and obligation), which form the basis of Japanese life. On is a debt owed to one's elders such as teachers, matchmakers, even one's landlord; giri is a debt of gratitude owed to those who have provided assistance or kindness, such as the award of a contract, job or loan.
Although in some cases such gift- giving has much in common with institutionalised bribery, the gifts are seldom too large, as too extravagant a gift would put obligation on the recipient. Offering too small a gift would also be insulting. Japanese department stores produce doorstep-thick catalogues of appropriate gifts each year. Indeed, almost 50 per cent of the total sales at Tokyo's prestigious Mitsukoshi department store come from seibo and chugen. Most of the gifts are perishable, given the long-term commitment involved in the dutiful despatch of seibo-to offer gifts one year and not the next is considered bad form. Presents range from fresh eggs to presentation packs of instant coffee, with imported goods and luxury items the most suitable. At Mitsukoshi this year, caddies of Fortnum & Mason tea sell for ?10 each and the ever-popular cantaloupe can grace your boss's fruit bowl for ?60.
Social obligation also extends to gift-giving occasions imported from the west. Many female office workers present their male colleagues (usually their bosses) with "giri chocolates" on Valentine's Day. Most gifts in Japan require a return present (kaeshi) except in the case of seibo and chugen. In a nod to tradition, although not entirely unopposed by Japan's confectionery industry, 14th March was designated White Day, to allow male recipients of Valentine's Day chocolates to return gifts to their female co-workers. In accordance with the tradition and their lower social status, the girls only receive chocolates worth half the value of the original selection.
In spite of the popularity of Fortnum & Mason tea this new year, the custom of gift-giving has baffled many western retailers. When some years ago a bright spark deemed it a clever marketing ploy not only to sell Johnnie Walker whiskey at a discount but also to advertise the fact, sales plummeted. Black Label, being popular with Japanese managers, had become a favourite gift to offer superiors. But to offer a gift that announced itself as inexpensive was tantamount to sneezing on another man's sushi.
The Ariadne's thread in the labyrinth of Japanese manners is a sixth sense referred to as kan. In the same way that Santa knows if you've been naughty or nice, the Japanese know exactly how to act toward superiors and when and when not to award cantaloupes. One of the key conflicts in Japanese society is that between giri and ninjo (human feeling) with the struggle between obligation and compassion at the core of many kabuki plays. The Japanese, by no means etiquette-obsessed automatons, still find comfort in an intractable social order, and shop accordingly. Giri presents may not come from the heart, but seldom offend. Aged relatives in Britain, filled with the milk of human kindness and raring to knit, should perhaps take note.
With the humiliations of childhood barely forgotten, (the trauma of receiving novelty socks wrapped separately still haunts me) I can at last find comfort in gift-giving based on social stature. A year older and more samurai-like, I sit back and wait for the melons to come rolling in.
