Erecting Maypoles and Burning Witches

Okay, let's have have a look at some other Sorbian traditions. On 30th of April Lusatia is welcoming the merry month of May with bonfires and maypoles. Both traditions don't have any clerical roots and they're prevalent in other regions of Europe as well – however, the maypoles around here are especially tall and sometimes, on top of a pile of brushwood, a witch gets burned...

So ten days after the Easter cavalcade I was cycling to Lusatia a second time. Just northwards... there was no specific goal this time, since the fun is taking place in pretty much all of the villages. And when it begins you'll notice. Setting up the maypoles starts in the evening while bonfires get lighted after sunset... Until then there was enough time to calmly explore the area. So here's a short collection of impressions first.

Post mill near Chasow (Quoos)

Just a TV in the woods

Saint Catherine's Church with white crosses in Ralbicy (Ralbitz)

Stork \o/

Residence with chapel. My god, how lovely.

As the evening drew near, you could hear some diligent hammering from the villages: Preparations for the maypole raising had begun. Wherever there was some space large enough, long trunks stripped of bark lay around and waited to be brought into the vertical position. That space could be on a meadow, in the market place or just in front of the fire station – oftentimes the volunteer firefighters are the ones taking care of the maypole tradition.

A tradition which is common not just in Germany, but also especially in Austria, Scandinavia and the Brithish Isles. So basically in all of Germanic Europe. But the maypole's looks are just as diverse as the customs around it; it's a little different everywhere. There are even differences between adjacent villages. But usually a smaller tree is mounted on top and a large wreath made of spruce branches encompasses the stem. They poles are being erected on 1st of May or, like here in Upper Lusatia, a day earlier on 30th of April. But when and why did people start this, actually? Well, once again nobody really knows. At least we know those things existed back in the middle ages already and they're a sign for awakening of nature, when the "green" time of the year begins.

While people in most places were still busy with preparations, some others were already setting up their maypole:

On this meadow in small village Storcha they were already at it: A large maypole decorated with a small spruce and a Sorbian flag was slowly being pushed upwards. No, there's no crane or similar gimmickry, the whole campaign is pulled of traditionally with raw muscle power and some long sticks. Of course this requires quite some time and endurance... and especially coordination. Since, you know, it's not so cool if that bulky thing is just falling over on the other side.
The whole procedure is strictly men's work again: About 30 guys were committed with all the heavy wood. The audience – which diligently kept their distance – just consisted of women, children and older folks. And, well, of myself. A small, puzzled girl went up to me and asked where I even came from; maybe the fact I was just standing around and taking photos instead of participating striked her as really odd. But probably I was just being the only unfamiliar face.

About half an hour later it was finally up and straight like a German spruce in the woods...
Well, kind of. What remains is just anchoring it firmly into the ground, winding a garland of spruce twigs around the stem, moving it perfectly straight and... done.

I asked a group of some senior citizens on a bench about the maypole's height.
"Well, twenty meters perhaps?"
"Better ask the men..."
"But when you ask them, it's thirty."

Finally the valiants gathered as a choir to sing praises for god and to welcome the month of May.

Good job, so that's settled now. Well then, let's burn some witches! I mounted the bicycle again since it still took a little while for the sunset to begin and some suspicious piles of brushwood would surely be somewhere on my way.
And soon I found one. When I entered the village of Schwarzkollm (Čorny Chołmc) I already noticed some music from afar: A pasture reserved for the event was equipped with food stalls, benches, lots of people and finally one of the infamous witches' piles. More and more onlookers showed up since the sun was setting by now andd thus it was time for this evening's highlight. But of course, such a witch burning event is only feasible if there's actually a witch present to be burned. That's why a marching band went off, followed by a village polulation armed with torches and lampions, to collect the wrongdoer for her execution. With drums beating and trumpets sounding they arrived at the village centre, whe the witch was kept in the community hall. From there she was being carried solemnly to her stake. BUT! We're no barbarians here. No execution without a proper trial.

The judge and her defendant

If you don't have a real witch (looks like they're extinct around here) you just have to build one yourself. That's the village youth's job: Every year they're putting together a new one from straw, old clothing and a wooden cross.

So here she stood in the evening of Walpurgis Night and had to hear from the judge what misery she brought upon the community last year: Because of her a tavern had to close down, she stole some ravens from the village center's monument, she broke in the youth club's house to steal some hi-fi equipment... And there was a lot more. But the judge also recalled some positive events the witch wasn't able to prevent. For example, the stork nest got inhabited again and there were subsidies for several construction projects. Still: The witch did enough evil deeds – she even tried to bribe the judge – and she had to atone for that.
The verdict: Burning on the stake! Who would've thought. So she got heaved up atop the pile for some happy burning, the children were allowed the ignition. That way people symbolically said farewell to all the unpleasant things that happened last year.
Sure, the tradition may have its origin in the real burning of witches (and a few odd people are actually disgusted with all that backwardness and misogyny), but as time went by it's got nothing to do with any superstition anymore and by now it's just a small folk festival.

The Witch was catching fire quickly, straw and rags burned down in an instant and just the cross remained to be seen a little while longer. A gorgeous warmth there in front of that pile.

Well then, Walpurgis Night had begun and my camera's battery was dead, so off home I went. Dark it was, thanks to the new moon, but everywhere in the scenery there were bonfires shining so you could spot the many small villages from far away. Their smoke probably was one of the reasons it was kind of foggy everywhere.
Now and then I went past a maypole again, some of them were being guarded now – since following the old tradition of maypole snatching a stem can be cut down by the neighboring village's residents during Walpurgis Night. I don't know if people still try this nowadays, though. Anyway, the youth or the fire fighters often sit at a table next to the pole all night long to drink like a fish.

Slowly but surely it got awfully cold, but there were still bonfires everywhere to get some warmth. Around some of them people were dancing until the small hours and their singing was distinguishable far out on the fields. In the bushes and trees at the roadside nightingales were chirping loudly and somewhere I heard this old Sorbian song.

No pictures anymore. Instead have a German song about Walpurgis Night for a conclusion.


At some point I stumbled upon a church for travelers that was open even at night. It even had pillows. So on that note: Good night.

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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