Krampus shadowed St. Nick in my early childhood

By John Toth

The Bulletin

When I was a child, and December rolled around, we anxiously awaited Dec. 6, St. Nicholas Day - anxiously because there was a good and a bad side to that day, and the night before.

I was born in a country where, for some reason, our ancestors decided that a good guy and a bad guy should visit the children on the same night. After all, what would a celebration of St. Nicholas be without an antagonist?

St. Nicholas was a fourth-century Greek bishop of Myra (in modern-day Turkey) known for his generosity, kindness, and defense of the poor and innocent.

He is the historical inspiration for the modern figure of Santa Claus, due to his habit of giving secret gifts, and is revered as a patron saint for various groups like children, sailors and merchants. His feast day is celebrated on Dec. 6.

St. Nicholas’ evil counterpart was Krampus, a horned, mythical figure from Central European folklore, who punishes naughty children. Originating in 12th-century Germanic traditions, he is said to visit homes on Krampusnacht (Dec. 5), the night before St. Nicholas Day, carrying bundles of birch sticks to swat and sometimes drag the worst-behaved children to Krampus Island.

The American version of all this just has Santa Claus coming down the chimney on Christmas Eve and leaving gifts for good children and lumps of coal for the bad ones. This is the sanitized European version, probably to save a lot of kids from PTSD over worrying whether or not they’d be taken to Krampus Island.

The Central European brand, which is what I lived under for the first 10 years of my life, just could not stand keeping it all positive, with a little coal added in the mix for the bad kids. They had to throw in Krampus.

I was always told that I should shine up my shoes, although I only had one pair, and place them on the window sill. If St. Nicholas (we called him Mikulás) liked it, and there were no spots, then he filled the shoes with candy and fruits, like a banana and an orange.

I was very young, but I had a little problem with this. If Krampus kidnapped me because there was some fake news floating out there in Krampus land that I was bad, would St. Nicholas still put candy in my shoes, and if so, who would get it?

There was a girl my age down the hall in the apartments who could have gathered up my candy and saved it for me until I was through with Krampus.

But what if she was bad and also got grabbed? At least I’d know someone on Krampus Island.

I put my shoes on the window sill each year on the evening of Dec. 5, before I pretended to go to sleep. Who could sleep knowing that some monstrosity could swoop in my room at any moment and scoop me up?

Eventually, I fell asleep, and Krampus never came. My shoes were filled the next morning with candies, and sometimes even an orange or a banana - those, however, were rare occasions because St. Nicholas most years had trouble finding them in the stores. Once I got out of Hungary, made it to Austria and then to the USA, that was no longer a problem.

As a child, I also wondered why Krampus had to visit during the holidays when St. Nicholas had everything under control. Good kids get candy; bad kids get empty shoes. If they would have left it at that, millions of children throughout history could have been saved from a sleigh full of anxiety.

“You better watch out; You better not cry; Better not pout, I’m telling you why: Santa Claus is comin’ to town.”

Doesn’t that sound better than: “a horned anthropomorphic figure who, in the Central and Eastern Alpine folkloric tradition, is said to accompany Saint Nicholas on visits to children?”

All I know is that I have been good all year, and on the morning of Dec. 6, there better be some candy in my shoes - sugar-free is requested.