My Dear Santa I delayed writing this because I was worried about asking you for any gifts knowing that Iceland, your home, is one of those countries hit most from what is called this worldwide recession, wherever it is receding to. How on earth will you be able to buy all those toys that are needed to keep the little one’s all over the world in good cheer this Christmas, when all those toy factories in China are closing down, Toys R Us is also going through a period of lesser cheer and Woolworths is bankrupt or something like that; because of what my uncle keeps telling me is this expected crisis of Capitalism, whatever that means.

I am also worried about what is happening in your part of the world with all these reports of melting ice in the Arctic Circle, which I am told is very close you where you live. Poor Rudolph, it must be really hard for him and all the reindeer in those parts, to see the snow they are so used to, keep vanishing so fast. I really don’t want to think of the day when there will be no reindeer left to pull your sleigh, and what that would mean to all the little children in cold and warm countries who wait so eagerly for your midnight visit every Christmas, to fill their stockings with gifts and heir little lives with good cheer.

I just mentioned stockings, and my uncle who is helping me to write this remembered shoes. "Ask for shoes, size ten shoes", he said. When I told him that I don’t want shoes from Santa, and that size ten is far too large for me, he said that all children should ask for large size shoes this Christmas, to give as gifts to their parents. "What if their parents already have shoes, and what about people who wear slippers or sandals or go barefoot", I asked. "You don’t understand. Size ten shoes will soon be in big demand all over. It is to throw at politicians who they don’t like; and mind you there is hardly any politician in the world today who is not a deserving shoe throw away from the people", was his reply. It’s strange the type of fun the adults have these days, wanting to throw shoes at politicians. "The bigger the politicians, the larger the shoe size," my uncle was chuckling to himself.

Getting back to the plight of the reindeer in the melting ice in your corner of the world, I thought of asking you to bring some gifts of love for nature and the environment that could be dropped into the homes of our children, so that we will all grow up with such love. My uncle wants you to drop such gifts into what he says are the empty heads of our politicians, too, so that the forests and whatever green gifts of nature that we have left in our little island could be saved from their deadly calculations of personal profit that is described as development. It will help save our kind and gentle elephants that are still found in the wild, as well as so many of the other animals and birds who live in the rapidly shrinking green domains of our land.

However difficult the times are in Iceland today, I know that you will come on your journey with that sleigh load of blessings and good cheer. As you come our way it will be lit up by the festive lights of all those shops that display goods beyond the reach of our poor little kids, who can only gaze at them from the windows; and all those brightly lit up hotels where the joys of Christmas are limited to the kids whose parents have very fat purses. Move away from that brightly lit path Santa, and look down with blessings and drop your gifts of love and good cheer on the children in their humble homes, with leaky roofs and cold floors; bring them a touch of the warmth of love that poverty has robbed them of in childhood, as they are left behind in what my uncle tells is the unfair race of ….yes once again, Capitalism, of the crony and in all its varied types.

I am sure Santa, that you will not forget to drop by at those orphanages where little kids are often at the mercy of unkind, bullying and exploiting matrons, and will also pause to bring some cheer to the little kids who are compelled to spend this Christmas (for some it is yet another Christmas) in the camps for the internally displaced, so conveniently described as IDPs — those sad refugees in there own country. Give them all the cheer for the season and bring them the hope of having a home of their own at least by the time you ride your sleigh through the skies next year.

There will not be any lights to guide you on the way, Dear Santa but you must not forget to go to the North of our land, where in two districts you are most needed by those thousands of children, who with their parents are held hostage this Christmas too, by those terrible people who call themselves Liberation Tigers. The children there have no playthings other than guns in the hands, and not by choice. Their sad parents forcibly kept to shield the tigers, must be given all the hope that their long wait for freedom from the bondage of the Sun God, that only brings gloom and terror, is near at hand. Bless those children with promise of better days in a land where all children can enjoy the same simple delights of life, and will never again have to carry a gun for anyone or any purpose.

Bless this land Dear Santa as you pass over us all in you sleigh and give us hope of better days ahead, especially the hope of peace and unity, of trust, understanding and reconciliation, that are so much needed to brighten the future for little one’s like me.

I just finished writing to you when I heard my uncle burst into song. It is a new Christmas song that I hear from him, which says: "All I want for Christmas are those Size Ten Shoes".

I promise you Dear Santa that I will feign sleep and wait to hear the sleigh bells ring as you come our way his Christmas, too.