Easter in Slovakia; or, why I'm happy to be an expatriate for once
pondelok, apríla 02, 2018
You know, living away from home has never been
easy for me. I get homesick just looking at the Skype icon on my desktop,
frequently browse through old photos of my dog, and the very thought of not
seeing my family at Christmas physically hurts. Yet, I’m always glad not to be
in Slovakia during Easter.
As a kid, the connection between Easter and
Christianity took a long time to register for me. There were other traditions,
more tightly bound to the period. Traditions that I now despise, but have once
enjoyed. Because that’s what you’re meant to do.
As a girl, Easter in Slovakia has always
been hard. As a woman, even harder. See, if my mum was to prepare for it the
way tradition dictates (and, thank god, she has stopped doing it years ago),
her Easter would go something like this: She would have to clean the flat, to
the tiniest nook and cranny, to wash off the winter blues. She would have to
bake, and cook, and buy at least five different kinds of alcohol, so that would
find something that they like. She would have to decorate the flat, and make
herself pretty, just to play the perfect hostess. And then she would wait until
the men came and messed it all up.
It's not just that they would come in
groups, stuffing themselves with the food, drinking shot after shot of vodka
and borovička. It’s not just that they probably wouldn’t even notice that the
flat has been cleaned, mainly for their visit, or that there were eggs strewn
around to make it look nice. Oh, no. They would come with willow whips and
egg-shaped plastic bottles, filled with water. They would lash my mum, singing
an old folk song, or reciting a poem, to make sure she would stay beautiful and
healthy in the upcoming year. They would spray water on her, to keep her from
wilting. The less adventurous ones would take out ancient perfumes, ones that
they’d otherwise keep hidden away because they stink so bad, and make my mum the
target. Then she would thank them, and give them chocolate or money for all
that good work. Or maybe both. Because that’s what you’re meant to do.
Now, I can see where the traditions came
from. I agree that spring, and women, should be celebrated celebrate. Heck, we
should all be celebrated, for making
it to spring in the first place. I can even admit that, as a kid, I enjoyed
running away from the water bottles, and I would sing along to my own whipping.
But, looking at the traditions now, I’m horrified. How are these still upheld
in the 21st century?
People love to say that it’s all symbolic.
The whipping is gentle. The water is harmless. Girls enjoy the game, don’t you
see? But underneath those symbolic traditions? You have men, often in large troops,
going from house to house, feasting themselves, getting progressively drunker, and
getting paid for… for lashing girls? For throwing them in the bathtub, or
spilling a cup of cold water down their back? For spraying them with ten
different kinds of colognes, so that they have to go and take multiple showers immediately
after the processions are over?
And it’s not just men, it’s the boys, too.
I remember seeing one, not even three years old, with a whip three times his
size. His parents spurred him on as he whipped his sister, just a little older.
She giggled at his ministrations, then turned around and have him a chocolate
egg. Don’t you think that’s a horrible image in this day and age?
You can make fun of me, claim that I’m too
touchy, or a stupid feminist, or that I read too much into it. You can say that
the girls actually love it, that they love comparing the numbers of boys that
have whipped them, that it’s a compliment and a blessing. You can even try for
that stupid excuse, that girls can now do
it, too. But I ask you, please, to think before you do all that. Look at
these traditions, with a clear mind, and consider what are we teaching our
children. What is the point of upholding these traditions? Celebrating spring,
and nature, and our health? Or celebrating old-fashioned patriarchal mores that
we could easily do without?
At work today, I have asked multiple people
how they celebrate Easter. An uncertain shrug seemed to be the consensus. Some
of them buy each other chocolates, some go on a holiday, most of them just take
it as an excuse to spend some time with their families. Apparently, you can do
that, and enjoy yourselves, even without whipping and watering each other. And
I love that, and wish I could do it, too.
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