The Sorbs and Their Easter Cavalcade

Ever heard of the Sorbs? They're a people here in Eastern Germany who got lots of own traditions and even speak a separate language. Yet even though they've been living here for ages, barely anyone outside of Lusatia - that's their home region - knows about them. In spring I've been there a few times to see some of their traditions. I'll tell you about them. Today's tale is about some classy gentlemen wearing frock-coats and top hats who ride about the villages while singing fancy songs.

Men with toppers? Good stuff. So it happened on Easter Sunday that I got up at the unhuman time of 7am, somehow heaved myself on the bicycle and went off. Always facing northwards, riding from one village to another, passing green pastures and slowly blossoming canola fields.

Somewhere behind those windmills Lusatia lies, the region where the Sorbs live. So who are they? A Slavic people, more precisely the smallest and most western situated of their kind. They're living in Saxony's Upper Lusatia und Brandenburg's Lower Lusatia, here's a map with their approximate distribution. About 60000 Sorbs are scattered over this area, living there among the Germans. But still, as I said: Barely anyone knows about them elsewhere. I've asked some people from Bavaria, Baden and Czechia and none of those folks had ever heard about them.

While I unhurriedly cycled around, the terrain became more and more gentle. About four hours and a Sowjet bunker later I encountered the first evidence for that I've finally arrived in the Sorbian area of settlement: Every road sign now displayed alternate place names below the German ones.

Yup, the Sorbian ones. Or better: The Upper Sorbian ones. Because actually there are two languages: This variation is spoken here in Upper Lusatia, while in Lower Lusatia it's (have a wild guess...) Lower Sorbian. And if that's not enough yet there's still quite a few accents inbetween. Well, for me all of those variations with their Ł, š and whatnot just look as confusing as Czech or Polish, to which those languages are closely related after all. By the way, by no means is every Sorb actively speaking Sorbian, just about a third in total. Very different regionally.

What also attracts attention is all the wayside shrines in the front yards and by the roadside: Small monuments in the shape of columns, crosses or even chapels that are typical for very catholical areas in Europe. Very unusual in Eastern Germany, which is mostly atheistic.

The wayside cross on the left has golden letters forming the saying "Budź chwaleny Jězus Chrystus", in English: "Praised be Jesus Christ". In the surrounding catholic villages many people do still greet each other with theese words. Here in the South-West part of Lusatia almost everyone is catholic and still uses Sorbian in daily life, children grow up with the language as well.

Uhm, yes. Why did I come here again?

[Warning! Easter Calvacade]

Ah, right. About time to tell you what's the deal with those riders. More info dumping ahead!
In the villages of this region it's been tradition for a few hundred years to bring the Easter message (i.e. the resurrection of Jesus Christ) from one parish to the adjacent one, namely in form of a church parade on Easter Sunday. And such a parade consists of catholic horsemen who spread the message in every locality by singing traditional chants. Theese days nobody really knows anymore when this happened the first time and why... but well, that's alright. The whole ride lasts about 2-3 hours, after that they're having a break at their destination for about equally as long and at the end they're riding back to the starting point again.

I went further to a small village named Baćoń ("Storcha" in German), where one of the total 9 cavalcades was supposed to start. Just before noon I finally arrived. The riders on their richly adorned horses were showing up as well one after another, meeting up at the church. Only men, but of every age group from teenagers to grandfathers. Together with lots of bystanders from the surrounding region they were waiting for the time of departure. Finally the pastor with his altar boys appeared as well to bless the riders. Must have felt kind of like a zoo animal with all those people taking photos of him. "When do I get to see a catholic priest?", a lady from the Ore Mountains said. But well, it's not like I was any better.
After the riders had met up in pairs and surrounded the church, it finally began. At first it's custom to ride around the church three times. Why three times? Once for the Father, once for the Son and once for the Holy Spirit. At least that's what Gramps is saying.

The leading pair. Sorbian epitaphs in the background.

The huge red banners are kept inside of the church for the rest of the year, only for this occasion they are brought out to be carried by the cavalcade's first two riders. Probably not exactly a walk in the park to achieve a balance with one of those things, especially while leading the horse. Behind them, a rider holding a statue of crucified Jesus and another one with a statue of resurrected Jesus follows. You can see them in the starting picture at the top. And then there's quite a few more teams following behind, depending on how many people were available and wanting to participate. There's no fixed number.
And while they're riding around the church, traditional chants are sung – in Sorbian of course. Apart from "Hallelujah", "Maria" and "Jesus" the average German will understand nothing here. A few of the men are carrying a hymnbook or simply a slip of paper with the lyrics. Originally the custom was only held by Catholic Sorbs, but nowadays some Protestants and guys who grew up speaking German are also participating. I guess those can use a lyric sheet very well. After three laps around the church are finished, the men are riding through the gate onto the little village's main road and finally out into the beautiful Lusatian scenery.

That's said main road. Cute, isn't it? Well, it's not like the small place really had any other notable streets at all. Lusatia's villages strike me as pretty cozy anyway, in my region they're mostly just like corridors following a single street for several kilometers and the properties feel like just haphazardly thrown into the landscape, without much sense for aesthetics. Meanwhile the villages in Upper Lusatia are either rather tiny or they're clustered around a central square. At least the ones I've seen so far. Very nice.

Never without the cops.

Yup, police is of the party as well. It's still Germany here, so everything has to be secure and nicely in order. Well, why not. I'm cycling right behind the car, 'cause when I'm here already I might as well follow the riders on their way. But somehow I was nearly the only one having this great idea, apart from one other cycling fellow and a woman with some bag. The normal commoners were satisfied with just watching from the roadside. But well, at least the view's good from there and one can take some good photos, meanwhile I was just seeing horse asses all the time.

82 riders at all, that's what the folks on the roadside were saying.

As you can see, passing the police car was no problem at all. It seems everything's alright as long as you don't go further ahead and make the horses go on a rampage. So I was just peacefully rolling at walking speed, from one village to the next. The fellow cyclist, a guy in his 50s I think, had some nice fun facts to tell about the tradition. So I got to know that the riders will be generously feasting at their place of arrival – and of course that includes alcohol. So apparently on the way back, some riders have difficulties to go straight and not to fall off their horses. And some of them sound pretty hoarse after a while. Well, no wonder with all the singing. Apropros: Singing time's just in the villages, at least out on the fields they can rest their voices.
At a 180 degree curve I smelled the opportunity to get a front view at the top hat guys again. So I carefully threw my bike away and ran over the grass field to the other side. Some guy armed with a fat telephoto lens already laid down in the trench roadside ditch and waited for the perfect scene. I guess unlike me he was able to shoot some professional photos. But on the other hand I captured a lot more scenes overall. Hooray.

Of course the sun was gone just in that moment. Doesn't matter at all, though.

After about two hours the brigade finally arrived in Radwor (Ger. Radibor), its destination. And here it was once again: Chanting while riding three laps around the church, especially around the graveyard to deliver the Easter message to the deceased as well. At the end they took off their top hats to say a prayer. In Sorbian of course, so I can only guess what the contents were. At least the "Amen" was familiar. And then it was time for their well-deserved break.

Must have taken quite a while to prepare the horses for the procession. At least all those small braids  look very time-consuming. Some horses also were decorated with flowers, some wore a cross necklace or a sophisticatedly ornated harnest. The one in the picture also wears a ribbon displaying the Sorbian flag's colours: Blue, red, white. And like you've probably seen further above, every horse's tail is decorated with an usually white ribbon.

A few minutes after the break started, Radwor's streets were full of riders again... but not those I've been following all the time. Normally there's always two processions forming a pair – that means two villages' or town's cavalcades visit each other on different routes and then go back home after the break. Radwor is an exception here: It's got two churches and it's destination of two processions. Before the one from the small village Baćoń (which I followed) arrives, there's always another one from Budyšin (Ger. Bautzen), which is the unofficial capital of the Sorbs. And exactly those Budyšin guys were meeting up for the way back while the other ones were still taking their break. I decided to follow behind once again.
This time a few others had the same idea and overall we were about... ten cyclists. That varied a bit. And thanks to a cycleway on the roadside the horsemen could conveniently be gazed upon from various angles.

There were also some folks lurking on the roadside to hand out some water. The riders had no objections since they could use it pretty well. (Just one guy said he'd prefer some beer.) However, the drinking part itself wasn't exactly easy. Especially for the first few of the bunch that still had to carry their banners and staffs. But they managed. Somehow.
By the way, I couldn't detect any riders swayed by massive ethanol influence after all. So I don't know if the cycling gramps' story from earlier was true or not. However, I guess the guys from Budyšin just can't afford to be drunk. That's because they've got the largest audience by far: Budyšin is a town after all and thus a lot of people were there to welcome back their riders. On their way up to the church curious people were watching from the wayside, others were looking out of their windows, still others oversaw everything from the castle. And especially the square before the church was chock-full, easily more than a thousand people. And the joy was great when the mounted superstars of the day finally strolled around the corner.

You know the drill: Three laps around the church...

Meanwhile I noticed that I just cycled around 20 kilometers through completely unknown territory without consulting my GPS even once. Very convenient to have someone who knows the way.

One last prayer and then the riders went back to wherever they came from. Same for the onlookers, it was time to prepare dinner after all.

I proceeded to loiter around the historic city for a while. The masses were gone pretty fast and it got quiet and relaxing again. Only the road apples still were reminiscent of what was going on here just a few minutes ago.
By the way, there was barely any Sorbian writing around anymore. The town is located at the edge of Lusatia and 90% of its inhabitants are German. Still, there's some Sorbian cultural conditions here, like for example a theater and a museum. A display in front of the museum had a fitting slogan corresponding to the Easter Cavalcade tradition: "Zwischen Erbe und Event" – "Between Heritage and Event"... yeah, that pretty much nails it.

I slowly started my way back home, turned around after a kilometer to go in the right direction instead and got a fine view at Bautzen's castle district at last.

That's all for today. Way too much text. More of Lusatia in later posts...

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Series: Spring in Lusatia
Part 1: The Sorbs and their Easter Cavalcade
Part 2: Erecting Maypoles and Burning witches
Part 3: Knocking Down the Maypole