Keepers of Tradition

Back in March, I had attended “Crowning Glories: Hat Show and Contest” in Roxbury. I was hoping to see some fancy hats, the kind traditionally worn to church by African American women. The event was hosted by the Friends of Dudley Street  Branch Library and it was the first hat show they had organized. It appeared to be modeled on traditional African American hat shows and contests. Nearly all of the 30 or so women who attended came wearing a hat. Some were crocheted, others were adorned with brooches or feathers, but all in all, they were rather modest. As for seeing more elaborate hats, several folks suggested observing what women wear on Easter Sunday. “Try New Hope Baptist Church in Boston’s South End.”  Folklorist friend Kate Kruckemeyer, who grew up in the South End, also suggested United Methodist on Columbus Avenue. “It’s the home church for many. There are so many cars that the police let people double-park in the middle of Columbus Avenue.”

The website of Union United Methodist indicated that Easter Sunday services would let out at 12:30.  So I made my way there, arriving at 12:30 p.m. on Easter Sunday. Everyone appeared to still be inside. 

There was a temporary wooden crucifix draped with a long narrow white cloth, whipping around on this windy day. The faint sound of organ music indicated that the service had not ended. A young girl entered the building so I decided to follow her inside. People were shaking each other’s hands, giving hugs, carrying Easter lilies, and generally making their way out of the sanctuary. I looked around to see a mostly black congregation, but there were some white folks too. Amidst the crowd, I spotted only one woman wearing a fancy hat. I slowly wound through the crowd and left to stand on the sidewalk outside.

About ten minutes later, the doors opened and parishioners began to trickle out. First to leave was a woman and a young boy, talking about how much they had enjoyed the service.

A few others emerged, and then the woman with the large white hat exited. I admired her outfit and asked her if I could take her picture. She smiled and agreed. Though she’d bought her hat in Baltimore, she did recall there being several hat shops in Roxbury, near Dudley station.

The lack of headwear at Union United Methodist was a bit of a disappointment. I thought I’d try to find New Hope Baptist Chruch, even though I didn’t know their Easter Sunday schedule. Got a little lost driving around the South End. Finally, as I circled around back toward Tremont, I saw a woman on her way to a large granite stone chuch, which turned out to be New Hope Baptist.

Several women were exiting the church and they were wearing large, fanciful hats.  So I risked double-parking on a side street and made my way to the door. A man was about to enter and he motioned for me to go first. In the foyer were an older seated couple and an older woman on her way out. Both women were wearing hats, so I began a conversation with them, letting them know I was looking to find anyone who might make hats locally. The gentleman knew of someone names Sykes. He offered to bring me inside to try to find her. More women came out of the sanctuary wearing hats and I asked them where they got them. One answered, “Oh honey, I got this online.”  As she was leaving she offered the name of several websites that sold hats. The older gentleman spoke up, with a touch of impatience in his voice saying, “No, she’s looking for a local maker.”

I was delighted to see he had taken interest in my quest. We walked into the hallway that separates the sanctuary from the function hall. The service, led by Rev. Willie Dubose, Jr., was still ongoing – I think I came in during the offertory prayer/doxology.  The band consisted of a guitar, bass, keyboard and drums and they were rocking. 

The service ended and people slowly began to make their way out. White was the predominant dress and hat color. No one seemed to mind my presence. Many seemed eager to pose for photographs. 

I left after most others had gone outside. It was chilly for April and people didn’t linger.  Several older women were boarding a van. Others walked. I took a few more photos.

Just as I was starting to leave, I noticed a lovely outfit on a woman who was about to get into her car. After commenting on her outfit, I asked to take her photograph.

I was fully expecting  her to tell me she had bought her hat online, but asked anyway, “Do you happen to know who made your hat?” “Yes,” she answered. “I did.” Turns out, she is Ms. Sykes, the woman who several people had mentioned. I told her I’d been looking to find a local hat maker and asked for her email. 

A few days later I sent her an email telling her about my interest in African American hats, my wish to learn more, and the “Head to Toe” theme of this summer’s folk craft area of the Lowell Folk  Festival.  I attached the photo I’d taken of her, which showed off her lovely pink hat and matching blouse.

Dear Ethel: It was a pleasure meeting you (ever so briefly) on Easter Sunday.  I had admired your hat and asked you about it. Attached is the photo I took.  I’d come by New Hope Baptist Church at the suggestion of several women who had organized the hat show at the Dudley Street Branch Library on March 17th. I’ve been wanting to learn more about the African American tradition of wearing fancy hats to church — and was delighted to see so many beautiful hats this past Easter Sunday at New Hope Baptist Church. Many of the women I spoke to told me they had bought their hats online or in a shop. So I am thrilled to meet you and hear you say you had made your hat yourself!

I curate the Folk Craft area of the Lowell Folk Festival (www.LowellFolkFestival.org). This year our theme is “Head to Toe” and I am in the process of identifying traditional artists who craft a variety of head gear (hats, Caribbean carnival headdresses, crowns, head wraps, etc.) and foot wear (handmade shoes of all kinds).

I’d like to be able to learn more about your hatmaking and perhaps see if you might consider participating as a craft demonstrator at the festival. If you think you might be interested, let me know how and when I can reach you be telephone.

Regards,

Maggie

Ethel wrote back right away.

Dear Maggie:

You are very good at what you do. I will be looking forward to talking with you.

Thanks again,

Ethel

In all my years of doing folklore field research, I’ve never had anyone tell me that.

I phoned Ethel at work on 4/12/12.  She’d be happy to meet with me in her home studio, as long as I can come by on a weekend. Ethel makes hats for herself, as well as for others, and still has a few hats on hand which she made for a hat show for the Shriners. She mentioned that she would be traveling to Tennessee for a school reunion, after that would be fine. 

 To be continued . . .

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Ava Vettenberg apprenticed to a Hungarian saddle maker in her twenties. Years later she found herself working with master saddle maker (and former Olympic gold-medalist rider) Tad Coffin. Now Ava makes her home in Swansea, Massachusetts where she is building a reputation as a skilled saddle maker who breathes new life into worn and broken English saddles. It is a skill born of many years of working with leather and horses. “My master told me that you cannot learn all of this in the time it takes for a candle to burn down.”

At the core of a saddle, underneath the leather padding and synthetic webbing, is a structural unit called a saddle tree. In Ava’s words, “It is the heart, the engine, the center, the base, the frame of a saddle.” A well-built, well-engineered saddle tree needs to be super strong, but also have give. A saddle, as Ava points out, is really “sporting goods equipment between two living beings.”

In one corner of Ava’s shop is a saddle needing repair made by Hermés, the Parisian company known for their haute couture silk scarves. The company still hand-stitches their saddles, however most saddle makers today use machines.

Hand stitching leather requires strong hands and two needles. Ava sits at her “stitching horse” to sew two pieces of leather together, using two needles and an awl. The majority of her tools she inherited from her master, Ferenc Laszlo.

In addition to building and repairing saddles, Ava is a master of the Hungarian art of braiding leather into decorative pieces called sallang. The Hungarian word translates to scrap leather. Originally, horse owners attached leather straps to the harness as a way for horses to fling away flies.

Some 400 years ago in Europe, these functional leather scaps were developed into decorative pieces used to dress up the horse for special occasions. “It was naturally a different culture. There was no airplane, there was no car, there was no telephone. And when a prominent guest or political person came to the town, how did you go to the railroad station to pick them up? With a beautiful pair of horses, or four in hand — two in front, two behind.” 

“Because the working harness is brown or a natural color, getting dusty or dirty, it’s fine when you train the horses. We don’t use decoration. As soon as you dress up your horses for parade, even today, for carriage driving presentation, the Hungarians use these sallang decorations on the harness  One on the forehead, two sideways at the ears and one on the back.” The use of brass ornaments – rosettes, stars, buckles – and painted color initials represent different barns.   

With Ava Vettenburg in our midst, perhaps we will see more horses adorned with sallang and more riders who are truly comfortable in their English saddles.

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Baby Sira was born just over one month ago. Her family invited friends and relatives for a celebration at their home in Roxbury, Massachusetts. Her father, Habib Saccoh recently befriended balafon player Balla Kouyaté, who in addition to performing with his band, World Vision, carries on his family’s tradition of performing for domestic ceremonies within the local Mandinka community. (The Mandinka are one of the largest ethnic groups found across much of West Africa.) “Even though Habib is from Sierra Leone,” Balla explains to me,  “he is still of the Mandinka people.” For such a momentous occasion, Habib and his wife, who is American, wanted to celebrate like he would, were he home in Sierra Leone.

Dropping by the all-day party was an opportunity for me to witness the role of a djeli (a.k.a. griot) in the context of his own culture. Djelis are the oral historians, praise singers, and musicians who are born into the responsibility of keeping alive and celebrating the history of the Mandinka people. Balla Kouyaté’s family lineage goes back over 800 years to Balla Faséké, the first of an unbroken line of djelis in the Kouyaté clan. Indeed, his family is regarded as the original praise-singers of the Mandinka people. To have him present at a celebration such as this, is a way of bringing together a community far from home, reminding them where they came from, holding the culture together.

And what a party it was. Although I had parked my car several houses away, I could hear Balla’s music from the street.

Stepping inside the spacious Victorian foyer, I immediately spotted where the action was. A large parlor room off to the right was alive with colorfully dressed men and women dancing to the music.

The music was cranked up really loud and some little people were not pleased.

Servings of African cuisine, fresh fruit, nuts, and beverages were plentiful in the kitchen.

Occasionally, people would offer cash to the musicians, in appreciation of their dance music and praises being offered, which went on for over six hours.

No question, this is a rich cultural heritage in which to grow up.

All photos by Maggie Holtzberg

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Freshly applied henna by Manisha Trivedi.

Four hours later . . .

What happens when an ancient traditional practice becomes a mainstream fashion statement? Well, perhaps not mainstream.  But I have noticed a difference since the last time I had henna applied to my hand by a traditional mehndi artist, some 15 years ago. The practice of applying dye from the henna plant to beautify the skin is well known throughout India, where it is most commonly associated with the adornment of a bride, a couple of days before her wedding. But less so here in New England. Or so I thought, until I noticed how many people outside of the Indian community saw the applied design and knew exactly what it was. It was one thing for the wait staff at a local Indian restaurant to say, “I love your mehndi.” But almost everywhere I went, from the pharmacy to the grocery store, the bus stop to the library, people were familiar with the practice of mehndi. We have celebrities such as Madonna to thank for popularizing this art form.

Manisha Trivedi is a skillful artist who first learned mehndi as a youngster in Mumbai. She and her husband relocated to Massachusetts a decade ago. She has many bridal customers. Her clients are both from within the Indian community as well as general public who have discovered the art through popular culture. Traditionally, mehndi has been done as good luck for a bride. A typical session may take four to five hours to apply. Ever since Hollywood celebrities have taken to having mehndi, it is now not uncommon to find henna art available in the local mall or beauty salon. But the cultural traditions surrounding mehndi are probably not part of the service. Manisha tells this story about the use of mehndi in very traditional arranged marriages, when the bride and groom typically have not spent time together before the wedding. Once married, and alone for the first time together, they play a game in which the groom searches for the letters of his name, which have been hidden within the mehndi design. Searching for his name, while handling her arms, is a way of breaking the ice. If he cannot find his name, he has to give his bride a nice gift.

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