SQUATTER’S RIGHTS.

Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like the effigy of a man defecating behind a manger.

But strange as it may seem, Christmas in Spain’s Cataluña region simply would not be Christmas without the Caganer.

A Caganer is a little figurine of a man – typically carved from wood or molded from clay – with his trousers around his ankles doing “number 2.” Catalans hide the Caganer in their private and public Christmas-time Nativity scenes, and children delight in trying to find him. This has been a tradition in the region for hundreds of years.

The “classic” Caganer is that of a bearded peasant wearing a floppy, red hat called a “barretina” and smoking a pipe. But this is not the only model. Caganers now come in all shapes and sizes; the most popular being likenesses of celebrities, politicians and sports stars – ranging from David Beckham to George W. Bush to Osama bin Laden.

Caganer spectators typically fall into one of three camps: the amused; the repulsed; and the outraged. I obviously fall into the first camp. My in-laws (curiously enough, considering their surreal senses of humor) fall into the second. Catholic groups in the US fall into the third. Allow me to elaborate on the latter.

The Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights – a New York-based group representing 350,000 members – went positively ballistic in 2001 when it learned that an exhibit at a California museum by the Spanish artist Antoni Miralda featured Caganers in the forms of nuns, angels and Pope John Paul II. The CLRCR wrote a snarling letter to the museum, complaining that the exhibit was offensive to Catholics. But alas, they don’t speak on behalf of all Catholics. The Roman Catholic Church in Spain, it should be noted, doesn’t complain about Caganers. They wouldn’t dare.

So, what is the point of the Caganer? How did it come to be? I’ve read various theories about this; the most prevalent being that the Caganer symbolizes fertilization of the earth and thanks for the sustenance that it bears. Put another way, the Caganer represents the poor farmer who, having taken the earth’s agricultural bounty during the harvest, lovingly returns the favor through the gift of his own, man-made fertilizer. Sort of a stinky quid pro quo, if you will.

Now…no offense to the farmers of Cataluña – and in particular, to those who prefer to drop their loads al fresco – but this explanation strikes me as the type of pretentious baloney that one might read in a Ph.D dissertation. Fortunately, however, I have my own theory about the origins of the Caganer.

Hundreds of years ago in rural Cataluña, a poor farmer named Jordi Puig (everyone in Cataluña is named Jordi Puig) became fed up – once and for all – with the local priest and his meddling ways. The priest had, for years, forbade Jordi from eating meat on Fridays. From drinking alcohol during Lent. And then, there was that pre-marital sex thing on which all priests are so fixated. Having reached the limit of his tolerance, Jordi decided that a bit of revenge was in order.

It was December, and the priest had set up an elaborate Nativity scene in the town center. Jordi, working at his kitchen table, carved the world’s first Caganer out of a two day old chicken croquette. Under cover of night while the town slept, Jordi placed the Caganer discretely behind the three wise men’s camel.

The next morning, the priest awoke to a crowd of excited children laughing and dancing around the Nativity scene. He pushed through the crowd to see what the hub-bub was about. And what did he find? Blasphemy!!!

Well…the priest was so outraged and distraught that he was unable to cook his own meals for six months thereafter. Or maybe it was six years. You know how priests are. In any event, a Christmas-time tradition had been born.

Now, I readily admit that I have no historical evidence to support this theory. Truth be told…I made up the story last Friday while drinking a café con leche at Bar Gema.

But you must admit that it sounds a lot more plausible than that “thanking Mother Earth for her bounty” nonsense.