Glory Ho

On my wrist, there is a bracelet made of red and white yarn. On my pea-coat’s lapelle, you’ll find colorful soft ribbon, braided into a AIDS like loop and fastened with a sparkly safety pin. Michael’s brown corduroy palto boasts two tiny, but fuzzy pom-poms, one red, one white, connected by a string. He, too, has a woven bracelet. These are called Martenitsas and in Bulgaria, they are a symbol of health, prosperity and happiness for the coming year. Each year on March 1st, Baba Marta day, Bulgarian’s exchange these often homemade trinkets, wearing them until they spot a stork, the first sign of spring. They then place their martenitsas on a blossoming tree.

This tradition is a big deal. During Februrary there are quite possibly more Martentisas than people in this country. Traditzia even opened an extra day the week of March 1st and everyone and their postman is suddenly either a martenitsa-maker or a martenitsa broker. Makeshift rain tents, crates with pop-up displays, white posterboard walls of these stringed things in every design imaginable line even the less-traveled lanes of Sofia. Like a college-name sweatshirt that began selling in only school colors, but has suddenly exploded with plaids, pastels and middle-aged-women-wardrobe inspired appliqué, Martenitsas are no longer just red and white, but include various models with silver, stars, sparkles and feathers, pipe cleaners, pearls, leather, loops, bells and bows; As big as a wreath or as small as a ring, they decorate the forearms and denim collars of every demographic. And the more maretenitsas, well, the more popular one might even be.

But where did it come from? That depends who you believe. I’ve heard about war heroes and wives tales–nearly a dozen. But because I don’t have my “grandfather’s version” as an old standby, I find myself at an open bar–with the liberty to decide which crazy cocktail of stories I might string together and most of all, which tales tickle my own personal search for symbolism.

Martenitsas are undoubtedly worn in honor of Baba Marta, which translates to Grandmother March. In Bulgarian, words have a female or male gender association. This categorization is very important and not always so instinctive, in fact, often chauvinistic, but the word for March is the only “month” word that’s female. Legend yarns that there was once a woman named Marta with 11 brothers (poor soul) and they grew up in a wine-producing region. However, while Marta preserved her wine, lest the vines did not yield some seasons, her brothers became noisily inebriated many nights, drinking away their wine. Marta eventually became worried that one day, when their wine was gone, they might steal from her own stash. But when she went to lock it up, she discovered that it was already gone. At first, she raged like a mad woman. But then, seeing the error of her ways, she softened, reasoning that one should always share their wine, especially with members of their own family. Like Marta, then, who often changes her mind, March is an unpredictable month. One day it snows and the next it’s quite pleasant. Bulgarians reason that this is because of Baba Marta. They wear this maretenitsa to ward off the mischevious Baba Marta and beckon the merry Baba Marta, sending her a message of spring, health and prosperity.
Why red and white? According to pagan values, red is a symbol of blood, conception and life, while white is a pagan symbol of virginity and purity. Together they symbolize women and the awakening of new life every spring.

Just a little bit of trivia about Bulgaria. . .