LL-L: "Holidays" LOWLANDS-L, 21.APR.2000 (03) [E/LS]

[Lowlands-L]

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 L O W L A N D S - L * 21.APR.2000 (03) * ISSN 189-5582 * LCSN 96-4226
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From: john feather [johnfeather at sceptic1.freeserve.co.uk]
Subject: Holidays

I can't see why the coincidence of Easter Day and St George's Day should be
a particular cause for English celebration, rare as it might be. (It
happened only twice in the last century (1905 and 1916).)

April 23 is, of course, the date of Shakespeare's birth and death, and that
doesn't move us to nationalist fervour either.

It occurs to me, however, that the Banner of the Resurrection is a St
George's Cross - a square red cross on a white ground. Is this because of a
link between the saint and Easter?

On Easter Day, Greeks [Orthodox Greek Christians] greet each other with (my
transliteration) "Christos anesti" ("Christ is risen") and give presents of
bread. Is there a similar custom in any of the Lowland languages/cultures?

John Feather
johnfeather at sceptic1.freeserve.co.uk

----------

From: R. F. Hahn [sassisch at yahoo.com]
Subject: Holidays

Dear Lowlanders,

As a Holiday treat you will find below one of the seasonal stories by our own
Clara Kramer-Freudenthal (Clara.Kramer at t-online.de) in her Ollannner/Altländer
dialect of Low Saxon (Low German).  It is a description of Easter celebrations
and preparations in her home exactly 70 years ago.  It is followed by my
English translation.  You can view the versions side-by-side at her website
(http://www.geocities.com/sassisch/rhahn/kramer/ or
http://online.sh/freudenthal).

At the same site (under "Leckere Saken (Rezepten)" / "Delectables (Recipes)")
there are recipes of the eel and smelt dishes mentioned in the story.

Happy Easter!

Reinhard/Ron

***

Oostern üm 1930

vun Clara Kramer- Freudenthal
(Lentmoond 1998)

Liggt bald söbentig Johr dortwüschen. Wat is nich allns posseert in de lange
Tiet! Een lütten Blick torüch müch ik mol smieten. Arbeitslose geev dat
lieksoveel as hüdigendoogs, ober mit een gans groten Ünnerscheed. Sozialhilfe?
Wat wüür dat? De Minschen, de nix harrn, keumen in dat Armenhuus, un dat wüür
dat Letzt'!

Een Dag vör Greundönnersdag geev dat Schoolfiern to Oostern un Tüchnisse. Gau
bün ik no Huus lopen, üm Mamma un Gertrud to helpen, dormit to Oostern ok in
Hoff un Goorn allns herricht un propper wüür. Mamma hett sik mien Tüchnis
ankeken, un wüür tofreden mit de Zensuurn. Mit de Wüür: ,,So, mien Diern, nu
goh man gau mit ruut un help Gertrud, denn köönt ji bet Middag mit
Steenwegschrubben rund üm't Huus trecht warrn.'' Gertrud, good fief Johr öller
as ik, frei sik öber mien Help. Dat Woter hett Gertrud ut den Groben
hoochsleept, un ik hebb mit den groten Riesbessen schrubbt. Bet to Middagstiet
harrn wi dat schafft. No een deftige Mohltiet güng dat ober fuurts wieder. De
Hoff no achtern ruut wüür ok plostert, un müß liekso rein ween as de Steenweg
vörn Huus. Bet an den Häuhnerwiem müssen wi schrubben. Mit een
Kutüffelschellmeß hebb ik dat Unkruut ut de Ritzen twüschen de Steen puult.
Blang den Häuhnerwiem wüür Tante Meier, dat lütte Huus mit een Hatt in de
Döör. Dor müß dat blitzen un blinken, harr Mamma uns opdrogen. Sogor een lütte
Gordien harr Mamma häkelt, de ik mit dree Pinn vör dat Hatt fastmookt hebb.
Ole Blöder wörrn för den neudigen Sweck in Quodrote sneen, op een Sacksband
optrocken, un an een Nogel ophungen. Uns Tante Meier wüür good 20 Meter vun't
Huus af un harr twee Sitten. Een hogen för de Groten un een sieden för uns
Lütten. Blang beide Sitten wüür Popeer proot to'n Griepen.

To'n Sluß wüür de Häuhnerwiem an de Reeh. De Häuhnerschiet keum op den
Mißhupen blang den Swienskoben, un dat ole Hau ut de Nester ok. In jeedeen
Nest müssen wi frischet Hau, veer Kampferkugeln un een Kalkei leggen. Kampfer
wüür gegen de Häuhnerfleuhn un dat Kalkei schull jüm wiesen, woneem se jümehr
Eier afleggen schulln. Hett nich ümmer nützt. Foken hebbt de Kluckhäuhner
jümehr Eier ünner de Stickbeernbüsch leggt un keumen denn mit een ganse Schööf
Küken an. Oh, wüür dat ümmer seut! Pappa hett to Oostern den Swienskoben un
den Häuhnerwiem wittjert. Ok harr Pappa gelen Kies anführn loten, den he vör
dat Heck un linker- un rechterhand blang den Steenweg verdeelt hett. Binn un
buten müß allns propper to Oostern ween.

To Kaffetiet keum Hannes Slachter, üm sien Warf to Oostern optonehm. Bi uns
geev dat keen Lamm- or Schoopsbroden. Mamma bestell een Kalvsnierenbroden un
een poor Pund Ossenbroden dorto. ,,Kalvsfleesch is Halvfleesch, wenn de Schü
good smecken schall, denn mütt een Stück Ossenfleesch mit to Füür'', sä Mamma
ümmer, un hett uns liektiedig anlihrt.

Stillfreedag güng dat Vörmiddoogs to Kark. De Dag wüür hillig, dor wörr nix
doon. Hannes Garms ut de Wellenstroot harr uns al mit Fisch versorgt. Wenn wi
Glück harrn, geev dat Ool or Stint. Mamma harr allns noch an den
Greundönnersdag trecht mookt, ok de Kutüffeln al schellt. Oostersünnobend wüür
Backdag. Een grotet Krinthenbroot keum in den Backoben. Een Lust wüür't
antosehn, wo uns Mamma allns vun de Hannen güng. Kinner, Huus, Goorn, Feld un
Veehtüch, allns harr se op'n Droht. Ohn' Waschmoschien, Huulbessen,
Elekto-Hierd un wat noch allns hüüttodoogs de Huusarbeit lichter mookt. Nie
nich hebbt wi Kinner markt, datt se Öberlast harr, un de harr se, dat weet ik
hüüt. De Torte wörr toletzt backt.

Och, wüür dat scheun in mien Kinnertiet! Eunt un Kluckhehn harrn jümehr Küken
utseten. Dat Woter in de Grobens wüür noch sund, datt de Eunt fuurts mit ehr
Kinner to Woter güng. Dor wüür noch Leben in de Grobens. Obends, wenn se vun
jümehrn Utfloog trüchkeumen, hett Mama noch Foder hinstreit, ober se wüürn
foken so satt, datt se nix mihr anreugt hebbt. De Kluckhehn mit ehr Küken müß
ober dreemol an'n Dag Hobergrött kriegen. Metten söchen se sik in'n Hoff un
ünner de Büsch. Grote Freid harr ik an uns Schoop ,,Lene''. To Oostern harr se
ümmer een or ok twee Lammers. Lene wüß, wenn ik keum, denn geev dat wat
Leckeret för ehr. Foken harr ik een Sneed Swattbroot or een Appel in mien
Schörtentasch. Mien allerleevst Deert ober wüür mien Katt, mien Bumann, de
seet un sitt noch hüüt gans deep in mien Hatt. To Oostern harr se ümmer een
dicken Buuk un wüür kott dorvör, ehre Jungen to kriegen.

Dat Wichtigste ober wüür Oostersünnobend dat Oosterfüür an de Est'. De jungen
Mannslüüd harrn achtern Diek op de Wischen Hult tosomendrogen. In de
Schummertiet wörr de grote Hupen ansteken. De ganse Noberschupp seet tosomen
an den Diek. Op de anner Siet vun de Est', op de Hoov, harrn se to glieken
Tiet ok een Oosterfüür ansteken. De Flamm'n drössen nich to hooch sloon, wiel
all de Hüüs noch mit Reet deckt wüürn. Mien Öllernhuus hett ok hüüt noch een
Reetdack. Ole un junge Minschen seten mankeenanner un süngen uns scheunen,
düütschen Volksleder. Uns Noberssöhn, Walter Bars (Bartels) harr een Muulorgel
un wi uns Stimm för all de scheunen Leder, de hüüt kuum noch een kinnt, or
männigeen gor oldmoodsch finn'n deit. Wenn't Füür denn no een Stünnstiet
doolbrennt wüür, sünd wi vergneugt no Huus gohn un hebbt uns op Oostern freit.

Uns Oosternester harr Mamma ünner de Johannsbeernbüsch versteken. Seutet geev
dat nich veel. De Eier harr Mamma mit Zippelschell bruun farvt. Poor witte
Söcken, or een Griffelkassen legen männigmol in de Nester. Dat wüür ok noog,
wi Göörn wüürn tofreden. Öber de Blomen in'n Goorn, op de Wischen un an den
Diek hebbt wi uns freit. Dat wüür ober ok een Klüür, nich to beschrieben.
Schood, uns is veel verloorn gohn in disse gaulebige Tiet. Müch Oostern doch
nochmol so warrn, as uns Dichterfürst J.W. von Goethe uns dat in sien Riemel
,,Osterspaziergang'' beschreben hett. Dat end't:

Zufrieden jauchzet groß und klein: hier bin ich Mensch, hier darf ich's sein.

***

Easter around 1930

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(March 1998)

There are close to seventy years between then and now. What a lot of things
have happened in all this time! I'd like to take a bit of a look back. There
were just as many unemployed people as nowadays, but there is quite a big
difference. Social security? What was it then? People who had nothing ended up
in the poorhouse, and that was the worst thing imaginable!

One day before Maundy Thursday our Easter school holidays would begin, and we
would get our grade reports. I would rush home to help Mom and Gertrud so
everything in yard and garden would be made neat and tidy. Mom would take a
look at my report and would be happy with my grades, [sending me off] with the
words "All right, my girl. Off you go outside to help Gertrud now! Then you
two can get on with scrubbing the [paved] pathway around the house until
noon." Gertrud, who was more than five years older than I, would be happy I
helped her. Gertrud would lug the water up from the ditch, and I would scrub
with the big [old-fashioned] broom. We would finish the job by noon. But after
a hearty meal we would continue [working] right away. The yard in the back was
paved too and would have to be just as clean as the paved path in front of the
house. We would have to scrub all the way up to the chicken coop. I would
tease the weeds out from between the slabs with a potato peeler. Next to the
chicken coop was the loo ["Aunt Meier" = john, lavatory], the little house
with a heart in its door. "It's got to be shining and sparkling there," Mom
had instructed us. Mom had even crocheted a little curtain, which I fastened
with three pins in front of the heart. For the necessary purpose old
newspapers would be cut into squares, strung up on a piece of string and hung
from a nail. Our loo was situated a good 20 meters [= 65.6 feet] away from the
house and had two seats: a high one for big folks and a low one for us little
ones. Between the seats paper would be available for the grabbing.

Finally it would be the chicken coop's turn. The chicken droppings would end
up on the dung heap next to the pigsty, and so would the old hay from the
nests. Into each nest we would have to place fresh hay, four camphor balls and
one chalk egg. Camphor was supposed to be against chicken fleas, and the chalk
egg was meant to show the chickens where to lay their eggs. It was of no use.
Oftentimes the hens would lay their eggs underneath the gooseberry bushes and
would then show up with a whole flock of chicks. Oh, was that cute every time!
Daddy would whitewash the pigsty and the chicken coop for Easter. Also, Daddy
would have yellow gravel delivered, which he would spread out in front of the
hedge as well as left and right of the pathway. Inside and out, everything
would have to be neat and tidy in time for Easter.

At coffee time, Hannes [= John] the Butcher would arrive to conduct his
business for Easter. Roast lamb or mutton would not be served in our home. Mom
would order a veal-and-kidney roast as well as a pound of beef. "Calf meat is
half meat. If the gravy is supposed to be tasty, then you've got to cook a
piece of beef with it," Mom used to say, and this is the way she taught us.

We used to go to church on Good Friday in the morning. The day was holy. No
work would be done then. Hannes Garms of Wellen Street would have supplied us
with fish already. When we were lucky we would have eel or smelt. Mom would
have prepared everything on Maundy Thursday, would have also peeled the
potatoes. Holy Saturday used to be bake day. A large loaf of currant bread
would be put into the oven. -- It was a pleasure to watch Mom working so
efficiently and competently. Children, house, garden, field and animals ...
she was on top of everything, without a washing machine, ["howling broom" =] a
vacuum cleaner, an electric stove and all the other things that make house
work easier these days. We children never noticed that she was overburdened,
and she was; I know that now. -- The torte would be baked last.

Oh, it used to be just lovely when I was a child! Ducks and hens used to take
out their young. The water in the ditches was still healthy at the time, so
the ducks would take to the water with their young right away. There was still
life in the ditches. In the evening, when they would return from their outing,
Mom would still scatter some food, but oftentimes they would be so full that
they did not touch any of it. But the hens with their chicks would have to get
some oatmeal three times a day. They would look for grubs in the yard and
underneath the bushes. I was particularly fond of our sheep Lene [= Marlene].
At Easter time she would always have one or even two lambs. Lene would know
when I showed up. That is when she got a treat. Oftentimes I would have a
slice of black bread or an apple in my apron pocket. But my most favorite
animal was my cat, my Bumann [= Boogieman]. I still carry her deep in my
heart. At Easter time she would always have a big belly and would be close to
giving birth to her young.

But the most important thing on Holy Saturday used to be the Easter fire on
the river Est/Este. The young men would gather wood behind the dike on the
meadows. The great, big heap would be set alight at dusk. The entire
neighborhood would be sitting together by the dike. At the same time people
would light an Easter fire on the other side of the Est/Este, in Hoov'/Hove.
The flames could not be allowed to become too tall, because the houses used to
be still thatched with reed. My parents' house has a thatched roof even these
days. Old and young folks would sit together and would sing our beautiful
German folksongs. Our neighbor's son, Walter Bars/Bartels, had a harmonica and
we had our voices for all those beautiful songs that hardly anyone knows these
days or that many people consider old-fashioned even. An hour later when the
fire had died down we would go home in good spirits and would be looking
forward to Easter.

Mom used to hide our Easter nests underneath the currant bushes. There would
not be a lot in the way of sweets. Mom used to die the eggs brown with onion
peel. Sometimes a pair of white socks or a pencil case would be lying in the
nests. That was plenty. We kids would be happy. We used to be delighted with
the flowers in the garden, in the meadows and on the dike. What color that
was! It's beyond description. Too bad! We have lost a lot in these hectic
times. If Easter could only once again be as our poet laureate J. W. Goethe
described it for us in his [German] poem "Easter Walk"! This is how it ends:

Big and small would whoop with glee,
"I'm human here, here I may be."

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