Badnik is some beautiful mixture of Halloween, Easter, Block party and a disco. and I hope no Macedonians are reading this, because for true Badnik-ers, that probably sounds kind of sacrilegious. For Julie and me, the night had an added twist: we went to the Frizer (salon) to get our hair done. and then had to walk through Tetovo in our jackets with huge '50s hair.
For quite a while I'd been hearing stories about this "badnik" holiday--something about dressing up, and kids going around the neighborhood asking for money, and an oak tree. Up until we stepped out of Culi's house, I really didn't know what to expect. and was delightfully surprised.
So Badnik.
After our adventures at the Frizer (it was really beautiful to watch this woman transform Julie's hair), we all met at Culi's house to get ready. When we arrived, his hands were covered in green, and he was two thirds of the way finished with transforming Nebojsa into a ninja. All the while, groups of kids would come to the door, ring the bell and then start singing this song asking for gifts. and every so often Baba Sava would pop in, saying either "the priest is coming! hurry up!" or "don't you lose those cooking utensils." after we were all dolled up (quite literally), we went outside into the street where they had constructed a pit for making fires (two halves of a metal drum) and a table with food on it. and music! there were people dancing oro (and other variations) in the street, and it was only a little while before I passed my dish of cookies off to someone else and jumped in. I had forgotten what it felt like to just abandon myself in music and dance, although as the evening progressed the music got more and more turbo-folky. After a while the priest came and blessed this big round loaf of bread and the rest of the food ("sarma!" Malvina smiled), and then we all took a piece of bread. Inside the loaf is a coin, and whoever gets the coin is responsible for hosting next year's fire. Thankfully (unluckily?) none of us got it--I'd love to be back for another Badnik. but probably not as host. After the breaking of the bread, an oak branch was blessed and everyone took home some sprigs--and now if you walk through some neighborhoods, all the doors are adorned with little oak twigs.
What was so beautiful to me was not just that we were all hanging out in the street, chatting, talking, dancing, drinking rakija, but that it felt truly like a neighborhood party. a neighborhood event. it was beautifully multigenerational--dancing the oro were both Baba Savas and little kids. and everyone in between. and each neighborhood (a small geographic area by my standards) had their own celebration, their own party and music. Some seemed a little less active than ours--no dancing (and no Baba Sava yelling "hush" as the priest was giving the blessing. I have a feeling she keeps this neighborhood running like a well oiled machine), but it was beautiful nonetheless to walk through and see this group of people, standing around a bonfire, smiling. kids knocking on doors, singing. many people were in costume--which I hear is a Tetovo tradition, rather than part of the Badnik kit and cabootle. and there was always some laughter.
after a while, we moseyed into town, into a hall formerly owned by the local textile company and now a restaurant (where, as Culi informed us, "you can get the best breakfast soup in town.") which for the night had been transformed into a place for dancing. and we danced.
dancing isn't a huge part of my life these days--there aren't really places to dance in Tetovo, in part, I think, because the community is generally a bit more conservative. and oh how I miss it.
but the other thing Badnik got me thinking about was space. no surprises there. But walking through Tetovo (our Frizer was by the painted mosque--on the SEEU side of the center of the city, but a good 15 minute walk from Culi's house), we definitely got looks from people. and then it felt like we crossed the street and suddenly there were kids in costumes going door to door, the glow of fires burning just up the street. music coming from somewhere. the looks shifted from inquiring to impressed. all of a sudden it felt like something was happening. that it was a holiday (I felt that again today--Orthodox Christmas--walking around the older parts of the city, up the hill towards Kale (the fortress) where all the shops that usually have a small gaggle of old men sitting outside, basking in the sun, were markedly empty, or the basketball court by Sveti Nikola church had no kids playing games--some neighborhoods were totally quiet, everyone at home eating Christmas lunch). And I know that Culi's neighborhood (or probably any neighborhood in Tetovo) isn't solely Macedonian or Albanian--and so I wonder how the celebration is (or is not, but really I suspect is) made accessible to all--if people get turned off by the religious rituals around the priest and blessing and crossing yourself. because I see in a celebration like Badnik great potential to celebrate community--ours in the most open way. Certainly, there's a lot about Badnik--the symbolism, rites, history, context--that I don't know, and knowing it could change my impression (or at least supplement it) of it as a community/neighborhood party and not as a deeply religious, spiritual, national/nationalist hoedown (although--like any celebration, that really all depends on what people make it, and how they celebrate it. and for those who wanted their religious experience, I'm sure you could find it, and for those who wanted to do their Macedonia chest-thumping, I'm sure they found space too). so. yeah. a lot would need to change for Badnik to be a truly open holiday--but somehow in my gut, I can see it happening. slowly, surely. but happening nonetheless.one Badnik at a time
maybe I'm drawn to Badnik because a lot of American holidays are either super family centric--or crowd focused (I'm thinking of all the 4th of July day parades I've been to in my life, and I guess they're about community, but to me it feels like it's more about spectacle). and maybe it's that I love this idea of having a strong sense of community at a really localized level, and finding ways to celebrate or build those relationships.
and maybe I just am looking for excuses to dance in the streets.
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