GRANDMA MARTA -- БАБА МАРТА

Picture by Toni Ti

 GRANDMA MARTA  (Баба Марта)

  

The history of Grandma Marta, or "Granny March" (in English), or Баба Марта (in Bulgarian) is a centuries-old one. In Bulgaria, there is a special holiday dedicated to her. The first of March is Grandma Marta's Day. However, since this is a purely Bulgarian holiday, I will kindly ask you to learn a few Bulgarian words. "Baba Marta." You pronounce "baba" the same way you pronounce "mama." Marta is Marta.

So, on Baba Marta's Day, Bulgarians celebrate the end of winter and the beginning of spring. They give each other martenitsi. This is a more difficult word to pronounce. I will not teach you this one. Although, I have to say, some Americans are really 'natural' as far as Slavic languages are concerned. 

The red and white figures, dolls, tassels, bracelets, interwoven threads represent some of the endless varieties of the folklore art of martenitsi one can find around this time in Bulgaria. The symbolism involved in them is health, happiness, protection from the evil spirits around. In a different story, the white is connected with snow, while red is the symbol of birth, new life. The winter ends, new life begins... 

The streets are flooded with vendors selling martenitsi these days; everyone covers as big of an area, as allowed by "the laws". You can wear them as bracelets, hang some on your car mirrors; decorate your house, place them and enjoy them anywhere you want. You can give some to friends, family, co-workers... No strings attached. "I am happy. Maybe, my little red and white token will make you happy, too! You do not need to remember to give me one next year!" The tradition is to attach them to your clothes, but no rules apply as far as martenitsi these days.

Picture by Toni Ti

I have not told your enough about this mystical Baba Marta. According to the legends, she was a grouchy, grumpy old woman, constantly bickering with her brothers. She changes her mood from one day to the next -- the same way the weather changes in the month of March. You never know what the weather will be tomorrow. You get up on the wrong side of the bed and next thing you know -- it is snowing outside. You put your winter jacket on, you look outside -- the sun is shining, you need to put a T-shirt on. She is portrayed as an old woman who gets angry easily. There are so many stories about her; she resembles characters in other European folklore, too. 

Through the years, I have not learned much about Baba Marta. I can't even make my own martenitsi. What I know with absolute certainty is that children love this holiday a lot. It is so much fun to welcome Baba Marta. 

You also have to remember, you wear your martenitsi until you are absolutely sure Spring is here -- the trees are blossoming, the global warming is no longer a threat for spring. 

My husband likes to joke that I can play the role of Baba Marta easily. I may be the real thing, only a younger one. True or not, he knows winter can come easily tonight. 

HAPPY BABA MARTA, FOLKS!!!

Picture by who else but Baba Marta!!!!!

WALKING IN THE SNOW

WALKING IN THE SNOW 

February 21, 2015

Picking up the mail on a record cold and windy Saturday, was not what drove me out of the house yesterday. Dressed with my 'Nanook' jacket and water-resistant new boots, I opened the garage door; looked at the falling snow; felt the wind and decided to walk to the mailbox. 

I made it to the street, moving one foot in front of the other. It appeared almost heroic to follow the footsteps I was the first one to make. No cars, no people, no dogs. Then, I stopped and looked around. Our little street was dressed in white. The snow was playing with my face and my shades. But the game was getting  very rough. 

I spent a few seconds debating the sanity of this trip. Nothing important comes in the mail on Saturday. Although I live with a serious medical condition, there was something about this 'white silence' I could not push aside. I couldn't get enough of it.

And the walk continued. 

Without lifting my head, I made five steps ahead. The boots were sliding. What may look like an innocent fall for a child, may trigger a huge disaster for my body. Finally, I looked up. I saw a little black dog with its owner - far in the distance. I was jealous of the owner, because the dog was slowly, but confidently, leading the way. He knew where the street curb was. At the same time, the dog gave me walking directions. He was a much more superior being than me.

All in all, the dog was my hero. I saw the mailbox. It was full of mail. I shoved it in my pockets in a rush.

The trip back was easier, I followed my winding footsteps. As I reached the garage, I had to pat myself on the back. Next, I saw my husband at the door. He sensed his wife was missing.

He went through the mail and picked a handwritten little envelope. 




to be continued....