What Moves the Schauinsländer Berggeister in Kappel? (Satis Shroff)
<b>Höllenzunft News:</b> The Fifth Season has arrive and it’s time for merry-making in the Vale of Dreisam. The knaves, or Narren as we call them,are everywhere. have overtaken the village and town councils and built new governments, and passed new laws (Narrengesetz). The mayor are obliged to turn over their offices to the masked knaves, witches and all sorts of motley coloured fighures and ghouls that make their way to government seats in a spirit of merriment and joy, a state of emergency has been declared. If you can’t fight this motley crowd, why, then join ’em. That’s your only way out if you want to stay in your village, town or city. Your only other option is to make for the open spaces or the mountains like the Venetians do when it’s carvevaltime in the city of lagoons, when the costumed visitors go looney.I, on my part, am heading for the North Sea Isle of Sylt to enjoy the fresh, salty air and the cold gusts from the sea. I’m on a wellness trip, and say bye-bye to my cyber-friends for a few weeks ( till the fasnet madness is over,eh?).
After all, every knave has his or her rights. Not only have the keys handed over to the masked and motley-clad figures but also the cash-boxes. The freedom of the knaves isn’t allowed to be ill-spent with work. The pedestrian traffic is obliged to take the form of costumed procesions. Everything will be regulated in a case-to-case manner; what remains unchanged is the law concerning youth (Jugendgesetz). Enjoy the fifth season or ‘närrische times’ as we call it, till Ash Wednesday. This order has to be followed without a second thought. Every person who is nabbed for not following these rules, will have to forsake of his or her närrischen honorary rights.
Proclaimed in Kirchzarten on ‘schmutzige ‘ (dirty) Thursday, 27. February anno Domini 2014.
Signed by the clique council of Höllenzunft Kirchzarten.
Fasnet or Fastnacht (the night of fasting) is carnevaltime in Germany, Austria and Switzerland, a time to wear new costumes, throw confetti at passersby and eat sweet ‘leckerlis’ from the many German and Swiss bakeries such as fasnet’s cute, small cakes, Berliners with marmalade fillings and fried sweet-meat, ‘Mutzen’, Nautzen or Mäuschen (little mice, not real ones).
During the procession on Rose Monday you get to see the cheerful side of the Alpine and Teutonic people along the Rhine, the Black Forest, the Baar, the Ortenau and the Wiesen Valley, where the Hansele, witches, demons, vampires, mountain spirits, animals-mask wearers greet you. In Schramberg (Schwarzwald) you even get a Brezel-blessing if you sing the song of the clique he or she belongs to.
In Kappel it’s the tradition among the Schauinsländerberggeister to recite a prosepoem about the local gossip that’s making the rounds in the Stammtisch of the taverns. Each prosepoem has a moral at the end. Here are a few:
A man in Kappel, we hear it everywhere, tries to keep fit by jogging around our fair village. Sometimes he walks like a pedestrian, our villahe mayor. He moves such a lot of things at our place, goes to meetings here and there, and when it comes to saving money, he outdoes Uncle Ebenizer.However, it didn’t work once, on Christmas it was, as every child knows. He used to play music to the tune of Herrn Preis, the men’s choir sings to it, a concert and the hall is full. The village mayor also attends it, that’s very clever but the route was too far. He thinks it’s better to do it by car from Hagematten. Ah, it’s difficult to park your car, for the place is full. ‘I’ll park it in ‘Zwei Linden,’a tavern with two trees. But does it make any sense, it’s just a few metres to the place. People have often noticed he doesn’t walk or run as expected and takes his car, even though his destinations aren’t afar. It would have been good for his figure and belly, the gain in time, instead of jogging.
The moral of this story: a walk doesn’t damage your health. <i>(A Cautious Citizen)
<b>Tree in a House-On-Wheels</b>
Our mater-of-ceremonies has no problem,
His caravan can remain at the Nussi all the while,
For he works there the whole time.
But misfortune is on its way already,
On a windy, stormy day.
The tree made a hole suddenly,
As it fell on the caravan near the foyer.
The door caved in, the kitchen hung,
There was no place to cook a dish.
He can make it clear,
And wrings with words.
Without scorn and without rage,
He told his tale.
The moral at the end of the song?
He had to bring his caravan now to Oberried.
* * *
<b>The First Fire Brigade Excursion</b>
The firebrigade undertakes an excursion, that’s clear,
To Hamburg by train this early year.
In the journey there was a problem:
Two men wanted to smoke very badly.
But in the train there was no smoking compartment,
No wonder they muttered and complained.
Great minds think alike: they had an idea.
And went together to the loo.
The conductor caught them in flagranti,
And wanted to throw ’em out at full speed.
* * *
I wanted to bring my small child
In January to the Kindergarten.
There were enough places, I was told.
But when I arrived it was a lie.
It wasn’t finished yet.
You can’t get in so fast.
They blame each other,
And the parents have no peace at home.
The crane stands still,
And the workers sit around,
I hope it doesn’t go on for long.
* * *
<b>The Hausmättle is not harvested</b>
In Kappel it’s easy,
As a farmer to get rid of your own grass.
Instead of leaving it,
To make hay as the sun shines,
They throw grass into the green container.
It’s loaded into the front-loading tractor.
When the green container’s full,
Don’t worry about it.
You can always get rid of your green cuttings
At the mountain farmer’s meadow.
The hard-working Kappeler housewife
Wanted to bake a fine cake,
It can only be the Christmas-tree baron’s daughter,
She thought muffins can be baked speedily.
Ha! It might be fun,
And the dough was made,
Exactly after a recipe.
She used a modern spring-form,
Made of silikon.
With it things ‘ll be better,
And a good result is the reward.
The form was filled fast,
Put into the over at 200 degrees.
After an hour it was brown above
And thoroughly baked.
Oh, the creation has to be tasted,
There’s no doubt about it,
But it crunched between the teeth,
As though it was sand.
She noticed that something was wrong
With the spring-form.
That’s the way it is,
When the daughter uses her sandform.
* * *
<b>Ominous Dimdig Valley</b>
The Kappeler went to ski in Switzerland
Since years its been cool.
A lot of things happened again,
What the Kappeler actually do.
The hunter had cursed,
For he was looking for his green crogs.
He didn’t find it.
They were at home under his bed.
Dela wanted to go to the ski slope,
But her handbag wasn’t there.
The way we know Ella,
She went down in the snow,
Like a wild hen.
They couldn’t find her for a long time.
Riesterer had taken her to Sanemöser.
The old boy wanted to go to bed late,
Went to the cellar,
Drank with his boy a couple of rounds.
Arthur then locked the door,
And the boy stood all night outside.
They thought about it long,
And even woke up Rita Löffler.
The moral of the story?
Don’t hide yourselves from Athur.
* * *
Last night the bathing-mater’s son came home,
Was hungry and shoved a pizza in the oven.
He turned on the oven and wondered,
What a strange foil seemed inside.
Takes it out and puts it in.
In 10 minutes the pizza fro Prowin is ready.
The next morning Mom gets a shock,
Who’s done this silling thing?
The oven cleaner from Prowin
Was still in the oven.
He hadn’t noticed it,
For he’d been high on alcohol,
And eaten the whole pizza.