Water lot of fun! A brief history of Polish Easter traditions
Hanging herrings, buried soup, flaming effigies and spanked maidens – as unlikely as it may sound, these are not occurrences from a forgotten episode of Game of Thrones, but rather the long lost traditions that were once inexorably associated with the Polish Easter.
Still steeped in symbolic, age-old practices, the Easter holiday is significantly solemn, featuring intricately decorated eggs, allegorical foods and sombre church processions.
This is not like in the UK, where the holiday has been hijacked and remoulded to serve the profits of international chocolate manufacturers.
According to some sources, the more attractive a girl was, the more she could expected to be targeted by men throwing water.
But even with that in mind, the Polish Easter has become increasingly internationally-known for its curious customs, and none more so than that which is celebrated under the name of Śmigus Dyngus.
Alternatively known as Lany Poniedziałek, it provides a ray of light relief following the ceremonial seriousness of the preceding days. Defined by the water fights that take place on the streets of Poland, the origins of ‘Wet Monday’ are themselves rooted in the past.
Although the whole tradition is thought to have originated in pagan times, written mentions first appear in the 14th and 15th centuries. Possibly alluding to the baptism of Mieszko I – the 10th century leader that united Poland under Christianity – it was in these later years that we know young boys would wake up girls by drenching with pails of water.
Whilst females were terrorised on Easter Monday, the tables were turned the following day with males also falling victim.
On occasions, girls and women would be hauled out of bed before being dunked in the nearest lake or river; according to some sources, the more attractive a girl was, the more she could expected to be targeted.
Despite that, by presenting their would-be assailants with a painted egg (a charm symbolic of healthy childbirth and ample harvests), girls could often extract themselves from such misfortune.
The culture of Śmigus Dyngus, however, was also far more complex. Often blessed the day before by the local priest, willow fronds – which were believed to bring good fortune – would be used to spank helpless victims.
Supposedly, the entire process was to absolve people of sin and some geographical areas took it more seriously than others.
One tradition now largely forgotten was the ‘burial’ of sour-rye soup. The end of Lent would see people who had enough of the soup supposedly filling their soup pots with sand, ash, mud and – in some cases – excrement, before hurling the contents from their windows.
In Kasubia, for example, the watery Dyngus part was ignored entirely with the focus instead kept on the more violent Śmigus part of the day: young damsels wishing to get married would be thrashed, with the ones hit the hardest presuming that they would see the aisle faster.
Often built around village parades, variations of Śmigus Dyngus would see young lads marching through the streets with ‘the Dyngus Cock’ (either a wooden cockerel or an actual live one that had been plied with vodka) or, even, dressed in bearskins with bells dangling from their heads.
Nor was all of this one-sided. Whilst females were terrorised on Easter Monday, the tables were turned the following day with males falling victim to such bizarre outbreaks of prattery.
Today, fortunately perhaps, the entire tradition of Śmigus Dyngus has morphed into something far more palatable, that being a giant water fight – as such, those walking Poland’s streets on Monday can anticipate both spontaneous and organised water battles.
Some of the truly quirky traditions have managed to survive is Siuda Baba.
Yet do spare a thought for the traditions that have not survived the vicissitudes of time.
Among these are the effigies that were once made of Judas. Symbolically tried on the previous Thursday, the likeness of the traitorous Judas would then be hung from the nearest church tower before being hauled down on Good Friday and beaten and set on fire.
Such was the brutality, the Church would later ban this practice altogether. Markedly less violent, but still also now largely forgotten, was the ‘burial’ of sour-rye soup. Having eaten little else during the period of Lent, the end of Lent would see people who had enough of the soup supposedly filling their soup pots with sand, ash, mud and – in some cases – excrement, before hurling the contents from their windows.
Enjoying particular popularity in the region of Kujawy, some villages took the custom further. Having appointed one man to carry a big soup pot through the streets, locals would then bang on the pot until it shattered.
In accordance with pagan legend, the fire in the temple close to Kopcowa Góra was guarded by a high priestess who would be permitted to leave once Spring arrived. Seizing her opportunity, she would then roam the streets trying to find a young girl who would take her place.
Herring, another food that was linked to Lent, was also the subject of vengeance. Tired by their over-consumption of this fish in the weeks leading up to Easter, people would use the Easter period to hang the rotting carcasses of the fish from nearby trees for the birds to feast upon.
In this way, they were able to say a satisfying farewell to this dietary staple of the period of Lent.
More joyous, another familiar sight – and sound – was children running through the streets with rattles and clappers, a noisy ritual that was intended to drive away evil and, simultaneously, banish Lent.
In some cases, recalibrated versions of these actions have survived in one way or other, but in others they have become firmly extinct. Still, some of the truly quirky have managed to cling on and in this regard the town of Lednica Górna demands a mention.
But whereas Siuda Baba was once feared by women, today the role is enacted by a man dressed in rags and touting a sooty face to symbolise the guardianship of the fire.
Taking place on Easter Monday, and related to the old Slavic custom of ‘expelling the winter’, it is then that visitors will see Siuda Baba.
In accordance with pagan legend, the fire in the temple close to Kopcowa Góra was guarded by a high priestess who would be permitted to leave once Spring arrived. Seizing her opportunity, she would then roam the streets trying to find a young girl who would then take her place.
But whereas Siuda Baba was once feared by women, today the role is enacted by a man dressed in rags and touting a sooty face to symbolise the guardianship of the fire.
To encounter the latter-day Siuda Baba, and indeed have your face blackened by him, is interpreted as a good omen for a prosperous year ahead – as well as a quick, forthcoming marriage.
