Novruz, A Spring Tale

Christmas has come and gone. Well, sort of the Azeri equivalent. Novruz is anticipated in the way Christmas is, and contains elements that are both reminiscent of Halloween and Easter. At its heart, it is a celebration of Spring, the death of winter. It actually starts four weeks in advance, with each Tuesday before Novruz being celebrated as symbolic of each of the four elements, fire, water, wind, and earth, awakening from their winter sleep. The holiday is a time of eating, family, and joviality, somewhat in contrast to the other holidays we’ve experienced so far in Azerbaijan (namely several days memorializing martyrs and violence). Novruz is not just an Azeri holiday, but stems from the Zoroastrian tradition, though no longer religious. In the present day it is a cultural celebration, taking place across the region, in Georgia, Iraq, Iran, Uzbekistan, and Albania to name a few.

My Novruz celebration began here when I returned to Ismayilli with my two host brothers and Amy, a previous volunteer who lived with my host family and now works in Baku. When we returned to Ismayilli, it was a very different place from when I left. Spring had sprung, the sun was out, colored eggs where all around, and the semani had grown tall in the house. Semani is wheat, and is grown in small pots in time for the holiday. My reunion with my host family, who welcomed me back with wide smiles and open arms, was a perfect way to kick off the holiday.

For lunch the next day (I was allowed to sleep later than I have since coming to Ismayilli, and had fun explaining what jet lag was when I finally awoke), we had the common feast food of kebab. My host mother took charge, orchestrating and monitoring the cooking of the chicken and instructing my host father on how to prepare the food.

I must preface the evening’s events with this note. A section of our house is rented to a few students from a nearby village studying at a local practical university. Right, so that evening, Amy and I escorted my host mother to their village, Rushan, to guest with one of the student’s family. I was a little nervous about this, as I really have not done much guesting, an uncommon feat for volunteers, but was glad Amy was along as her Azeri is much better than mine (understandable after living and working on and off for seven years in the country).

When we got to the house in Rushan, my host mother set up talking with the adults, and the students were instructed to entertain Amy and I by driving us around. Leaving the house and the town of Ismayilli was kind of a big deal for my host mother, so we went along with the students as they took us wherever nearby they could think of, including to a hilltop where people have bonfires during the summer and a Kansan graveyard, still more or less standing after the Kansans have gone back to Kansas. We returned in time for dinner, kebab again, and then the real festivities began. One of the main traditions of Novruz is to build a bonfire (the fire being one of the key connections to the Zoroastrian past of the holiday), which people then jump over three times. The point is to commit one’s troubles and problems to the flames to be consumed. In practice, it’s a lot of fun, though exceedingly hard to get a decent photo of in the dark. We also took part in a practice, usually for children, which reminds me of trick or treating. Children go around to neighbor houses and leave their hats on the stoop or right inside the door, knock and then hide. The owners of the house then fill the hat with candies and treats. After all that, it was getting pretty late, and we sat wondering whether we would be able to get back to Ismayilli that night—all the taxi drivers in the village were drunk or didn’t want to drive all the way there and back. Finally, a ride was arranged and we were able to sleep in our own beds.

Oh, one more fun tradition is for kids to think of a question about the future, and then listen in on a conversation. If what they overhear is positive, their question is answered positively, and vice versa. Sometimes parents and relatives, knowing someone is dropping eaves, will say ridiculous or confusing things to mess with the not-so-secret listeners.

The next day, the relatives arrived. My host father’s brother’s family and my host mother’s sister and her daughter arrived from Baku. We young people were assigned the task of setting up the fire for that night, and we let Bozdar off his tether to play. We ended up playing a small three-on-three game of Ultimate Frisbee, ending in a tie. While the family went to a nearby cemetery to pay their respects, Amy and I visited an English teacher with whom Amy had worked as a volunteer. This was a great opportunity to meet a nice woman and make a contact with a good English teacher.

After a dinner of plov (rice pilaf), another common party or special occasion meal, interrupted briefly by a large group of little kids with their hats (who definitely missed the point of hiding as they giggled noisily while we filled their hats), we headed out to the yard, for another fire. This one was a monster, and took a long time to die down enough for safe jumping.

So that was Novruz. The guests are now gone, the house is quiet again, and classes start up again at school on Monday. Novruz was a fun holiday, maybe not one with too much of a hidden meaning or message, but the coming of spring is exciting to be sure. After going nearly a month without seeing the sun, the spring is definitely something to celebrate.