Today is St. Martin’s Feast Day in Germany.
When I was a child, this was always a very exciting day because that was the day when we finally were allowed to light the candle inside our lantern, ready to walk im ‘Martinszug’ up the hill. Anticipation had built in the weeks leading to it because at school, we had crafted our lanterns from black cardboard. We cut out designs in each of its four sides and glued transparent paper behind the cutouts. A candle was placed in the bottom,a handle attached to the open top, and a dowel connected to the handle which allowed us to hold the lantern high so we could let our light shine.
At dusk, we kids gathered in the school yard, the lanterns were lit, and we started the procession, lined up by class, in two rows, and marched from our school to the top of the Kaiserberg, singing ‘Laterne, Laterne, Sonne, Mond und Sterne…’. Once we arrived on the hill, we gathered around a big woodpile that soon would be lit. Red cheeked and with cold hands, we enthusiastically sang ‘Sankt Martin, Sankt Martin…’ calling for him to arrive on his horse. He would re-enact the story of Saint Martin who shared his clothes and food with the poor und underprivileged so they would be warm and had something to eat. He was dressed in fanciful clothes and armed with a real sword. We kept singing his praises with our lit lanterns, warmed by the fire and we patiently waited our turn for him to hand us our ‘Weckmann’, a pastry shaped like a little person with a clay pipe embedded in his dough belly. I never really understood its purpose, but if you dipped its bowl into soapy water and blew through the mouthpiece, bubbles would rise into the air.
Once Sankt Martin rode down the hilltop, children and parents followed, still singing all the way home where ‘Uhles’, a layered potato cake also called the goose of the poor man, would be baking in the oven, filling the air with a mouth-watering aroma. We kids set the table and cousins,parents and grandparents took their seats, gave Thanks, and shared in the potato dish, the applesauce, pumpernickel bread while laughter filled the air.
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Incidentally, this day is also the beginning of the Mardi Gras season or Faschingszeit in Germany.
People go to events, not dressed in costumes yet, to listen to speakers (Büttenredner), comedians, performers, and watching the ‘Funkemarieche’, the lead dancer of the dance corps (I always wanted to be one, but my parents couldn’t afford the red suede, knee-high boots, and the traditional costumes, wig and hat). These performances take place to honor and entertain the presiding King Karneval and his court who will visit all his ‘Jecken’ from today until Mardi Gras, moving from one glittery event to the next.
I come from a long line of ‘Jecken’, the fools that during the big parades in March choose a theme and with their group dress up and dance merrily in the parades throwing candies into the masses, that are lining the streets to see ‘de zuch’. It is quite jolly and when the parade is over, people go to the pubs where they keep dancing, drinking, kissing from ‘Altweiber’ to ‘Ash Wednesday’ when everything is over and Lent begins.
To some it is the time to go within,
when the days get shorter,
the leaves have fallen,
and our breath is visible in the cold.
To others it is the time to be in the light,
to pretend there is no night
to dance, drink, and be merry
until the Lent time stops it.
We appear to be in the darkness
as a nation divided
the not knowing feels daunting
and no answers are forthcoming.
Is that why thoughts of home
make my heart feel heavy
and memories of long-gone times
fill me with melancholy?
Times are changing
whether I like it or not
is not important –
I am only a grain of sand, anyway.
Hiking Poet 