A well-known urban tradition in Jamaica is the predictable appearance of the Christmas thief. Like jonkunu masqueraders, the Christmas thief is a fixture of the end-of-year holiday season. But there's a big difference between the two.

Jonkunu revellers announce their presence with great fanfare, giving children enough time to hide under the bed. From that safe place they could enjoy the delicious fear provoked by the band's spectacular performance. By contrast, the Christmas thief depends on stealth, usually operating under the cloak of darkness. Brazen thieves do roam the streets in broad daylight, constantly on the lookout for quick pickings.

There's a popular folk song that helps to establish the pedigree of the Christmas thief: 'Krismos a kom, mi waan mi laama.' Christmas is coming and I want my 'laama.' The Dictionary of Jamaican English defines 'laama' as '[c]lothing for a special occasion; often, but not necessarily, new clothes.' As children, we knew that clothes left too long on the line were prime targets for theft. These days, Christmas thieves are much more sophisticated. Nobody wants old clothes. Electronic equipment, high-end cellphones, jewellery, money, these are the 'laama' of choice. Somewhat like Robin Hood, the Christmas thief seems to think that one person's property is another's 'laama.' The boundaries between private and collective ownership become rather fluid.

The possessive pronoun in the song says it all: 'mi laama.' Here is a clear sense of entitlement. I wonder if this conviction of a rightful claim to 'laama' has its origins in the complex 'bite-and-blow' rituals of plantation slavery. At the end of each year, slave masters were expected to distribute gifts. Incidentally, it is not widely known that some supposedly 'enslaved' Africans were able to amass considerable wealth from productive labour on plots of land to which they were given access by customary law. Forced to work for 'bakra' for nothing, they also worked industriously for themselves. They didn't need anyone to give them 'laama.' Some were even able to lend money to their 'owners.'

Hope springs eternal

This year, Christmas thieves struck rather early in my neighbourhood: at the beginning of November. I was the first victim on my street. The theft of my beautiful, large-screen iMac computer 'hort mi tu mi haat.' I hadn't been routinely backing up data, so I've lost about two years' digitised work. Fortunately, I do have hard copies of most of the documents. But since I'm the queen of recycling, it's a real nuisance not to be able to cut and paste at will.

So if you've recently bought my iMac from a Christmas thief, at a sinfully low price, and haven't yet deleted all the files, please put the data on some jump drives and drop them off secretly at the Department of Literatures in English at the University of the West Indies, Mona. The phone number there is 927- 2217 and we don't have69. Hope springs eternal in the human breast.

Then I'm really quite sorry to disillusion all those trusting souls who believe the advertising copy of the Yale discus locks. It is absolutely not true that the "enclosed shackle prevents cutting or jemmying." The manufacturers of these locks simply don't know the prowess of a determined Jamaican Christmas thief. The Matilda's Corner police who quickly came to investigate the break-in couldn't believe that the discus locks had been cut. I've emailed Yale with a bitter complaint and I'm still waiting to hear what their response will be.

One of my friends down the road who has a battalion of high-class dogs was the next victim. I have a fearful respect for dogs, whatever their breed, or lack of breeding for that matter. It's in my DNA. I know that dogs were used to hunt runaways from plantation slavery. So I don't play with them. And it's not just about fleas.

Insecurity is big business

My friend's dogs are not like the mongrels of my childhood who knew their place. Our 'pet' dogs were not petted and powdered. They did not eat specially-packaged 'dog' food. They ate leftovers. They had no expectations of being taken to the vet. By contrast, my friend's guard dogs are 'tapanaaris'. But they were easily outsmarted by the thieves. While they were guarding the front of the house, the Christmas thieves came in by the back.

In this period of global economic crisis, old-fashioned Christmas thieves are now likely to extend their season of covert operations into yearlong scavenging for 'laama' of all sorts. My new nightly prayer is a variant on a childhood theme:

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray King Hawk the peace to keep

Should the alarm go off before I wake

I pray Guardsman the call to take.

Insecurity is big business in Jamaica so there's a host of other names I could have recited: Ranger, Border Patrol, Sovereign, Atlas, Super Sword, Black Hawk, Knightsman, Marksman, on and on; all evoking masculine potency. Especially in the coming holiday season, upstanding security companies will be doing a rousing business.

And, by the way, not even the Government is immune to the temptations of Christmas thievery. The recent extortionate increase in the application fees for new passports and for replacements is a classic example of choke-and-rob. But we really shouldn't be surprised. The gap in the Budget must be closed by fair means or foul. After all, Government, too, wants its 'laama' in this season of goodwill to all persons.

Carolyn Cooper is professor of literary and cultural studies at the University of the West Indies, Mona. Send feedback to: karokupa@gmail.com or columns@gleanerjm.com.