Post by Wrath0fKuus on Dec 17, 2014 13:46:25 GMT -5
So, Mr. Kuus and I are American and all, but of Slovak descent. Not, like, seven generations ago Slovak, but recent enough that my grandparents speak/spoke English as a second language, and rather poorly at that. And we both grew up in the same little Slovak enclave of a neighborhood, so we're all a little more mired than you'd think in the old ways and traditions.
Anyway, the first year we were dating, he invited me to Christmas Eve dinner at his parents' house. For those of you who aren't Slovak, trust me when I say that no self-respecting Slovak gives a damn about Christmas Day - it's all about Christmas Eve, and all the foods and traditions for the holiday represent the bitterness of life. When my family was thrown out of their own extended family (long and rigodsdamndiculous story full of jackassery) and had to do their own smaller Christmas Eve celebrations, my grandmother decided to get rid of all foods and rituals that represent life's bitterness, keeping only the buttery goodness of homemade pierogi, and replace everything else with pie, so while I had heard of the more traditional celebration, I'd never actually experienced it.
Mr. Kuus's family has been in the US slightly longer than mine, so naturally they're more nostalgic for the old world and want to make everything Uber-Slovak (my grandparents have always maintained that if the old world were so great, then they wouldn't have left). Knowing that, he warned me that his family's celebration was a little more traditional than mine. So we got the honey blessing on the forehead (like Ash Wednesday’s ashes, but stickier and more annoying), dipped the oplatki (sp?) in honey and made sure we all took a bite at the same time, and all ate horrifying pickled fish and sauerkraut soup while seated around a large, garish Jesus candle. Not my cup of tea, but whatever.
Then dinner ended, and it was a whole new ball of wax. A silence fell over the table, and MIL (well, she was just bf's mom at the time, but you know) explained for the newcomers (just me) that now is the time when the family matriarch, defined as the oldest woman, blows out the candle, and whoever the smoke goes toward will be dead by next Christmas Eve. You know I was seated right across from her, so my eyes just couldn't slide sideways enough. Everyone silently prayed that it wouldn't be them, the smoke somehow managed to go straight up (means no one dies), and we were all able to leave the table.
Later several family members took me aside and explained that the Death Candle hadn't always been the way it is now. Apparently when MIL's mom was the matriarch, if the smoke went toward a window or door, then someone at the table would be dead by next year, but you don't know who. And when MIL's grandmother was the one, no one was to die, but someone would just eat dinner somewhere else next year. Following the logical progression, when SIL becomes matriarch, the tradition will be for her to be able to kill whoever the smoke goes toward before the night is over.
There was also an incident where my parents attended, and MIL was so upset that she wasn't the oldest woman that she changed it so that if my mother blew out the candle, she'd be the one to die. I stole the candle after that.