UP UNTIL 1989, KUPALA WAS FROWNED UPON. YET, THE PEOPLE KEPT ALIVE THE TRADITION AS A MARK OF NATIONAL IDENTITY

That is not a long time. Kupala or its Christian version were frowned upon until the communist regime fell in 1989. If the Christians tried to hijack the festival, communists merely wished it away. Yet the people kept alive the tradition as a mark of national identity.

THE POLE PARTY

The musicians have taken over. Fiddles and the traditional tsymbaly set the stage for the wedding. Clad in a simple white gown and veil, Skawinska walked onto the stage along with her groom as the older women threw pieces of bread at them as the ultimate form of blessing. The bride in white stood out among the intricately embroidered scarves, skirts and aprons in blue, green and red.

Once the couple was led to the feast table, the bride’s father called upon the family to celebrate. The wine bottles were out and men poured each other generous servings, trying to convince the audience that they had just started partying.

WHEN FIGHT IS FUN

Women in white linen blouses and floral skirts joined men wearing white shirts and black waistcoats. They erupted into a lively polka as the musicians kept the pace. The spectators ignored the summer rain. “It almost always rains on Kupala. The sun can’t have all the day for himself,” someone said reassuringly. The pace was not fast enough for the Subcarpathian Uplanders though. The bride’s father yelled out to the musicians to increase the tempo.

The predominantly city crowd loved the theatrics. So did the tourists who were drawn away from the makeshift stalls selling anything from local dumplings and waffles to more exotic snails and frog legs.

The party went on until a young energetic dancer picked a fight with an elder. The audience pondered if it was really part of the script as the women shouted at their belligerent men in mock frustration. The commotion yielded to music as effortlessly as it started. The young man held on to his dancing partner again, his torn shirt sleeves swinging around him. Nice family weddings come with a touch of violence.

The jovial couples resumed dancing with a vengeance, swaying each other around and stomping their boots to the cyclical rhythm. They were at home. Skawinska wished she had a more active role to play, tapping her feet beneath the table. The elders were in no mood to step aside. Songs of love and longing have overpowered them in a nostalgic trance.