{"id":8605,"date":"2014-03-28T12:40:57","date_gmt":"2014-03-28T12:40:57","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.foto8.com\/live\/?p=8605"},"modified":"2023-10-30T17:16:12","modified_gmt":"2023-10-30T17:16:12","slug":"last-snows-melt-pomaks-bulgaria-rosa-vroom-cristina-aldehuela","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.foto8.com\/live\/last-snows-melt-pomaks-bulgaria-rosa-vroom-cristina-aldehuela\/","title":{"rendered":"Until the Last Snows Melt \u2013 The Pomaks of Bulgaria by Rosa Vroom and Cristina Aldehuela"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Pomaks_Boda09\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Journalists, photographers and townspeople have all gathered in Fikrie and Ahmed\u2019s nuptial bedroom. The matron hands out the party sweets. The children wait outside, chewing sweets with their hands in their pockets. When the imam has finished reciting all his verses, the private ceremony will begin, and after three days and nights Fikrie will come out veiled and officially a married woman.<\/p>\n

In some areas of Bulgaria, bordering the Pirin and Rhodope mountains the traditions of one of the minorities of the country are still preserved: those of the Pomaks. Although there are various controversial theories about their origin in the Balkan region their distinctive features are well defined: they are Slavs and they are Muslim.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy people are the last real Muslims in Bulgaria\u201d, says Ali. \u201cWe still preserve our natural cultures, as well as our food, clothes, parties and weddings\u201d Ali Nevse Boshnakovi, called Valeri in communist times, is a Pomak. He is from Ribnovo, a small mountainous locality in the province of Blagoevgrad, in the southeast of Bulgaria.<\/p>\n

He speaks Spanish, and like other Spanish speaking Bulgarians he differentiates between the b sound and the v sound. \u201cWe lead a normal life here, we study and work… Those of us who can stay here, those who can\u2019t go to Greece, Spain, Germany…\u201d Ali migrated to Valencia, in Spain, eight years ago, but this weekend he is in his village with his wife Mila and his son Ali. \u201cWhen winter arrives we all get together for the wedding season\u201d The streets are packed with people, the cafes and bars are overflowing, and there is barely any space for the wood piles on the pavements.<\/p>\n

Funa, Ali\u2019s mother, has received the honorary request from the bride, to be the one to paint her face during next Sunday\u2019s ceremony. \u201cIt is very important for us to preserve our traditions\u201d, she repeated whilst looking warily at Ali\u2019s wife, who joined the conversation happily in her sporty tracksuit. There was silence, and Ali had no option but to explain. \u201cWe didn\u2019t marry the traditional way. We didn\u2019t have enough time to prepare the wedding\u201d Tradition has it that the bride cakes her face with a thick layer of face-cream, and covers it with sequins in every possible colour. It is said that this symbolises fertility.<\/p>\n

Ribnovo is full of cafes and grocery stores. Two mosques jut out of the mountain side on which the pomaks live. There is also a school attended by Muslim and Christian students from other villages. There is no hospital, but instead there are two doctors who treat their patients from house to house in the old- fashioned way.<\/p>\n

The bride is known in the village because her father is Doctor Bindje. Theirs is a well-known family and thus they must maintain the traditions. Weddings are very important ceremonies, and Fikrie knows it. Her face shows signs of nervousness and unease, fearing she will not be able to measure up to expectations. But her mother accompanies her, instructing her in each of her steps, she knows the rules of the game.<\/p>\n

The identity of the Pomaks was denied for more than forty years under the principles of \u201cequality\u201d and \u201csecularism\u201d. The Communist regime Christianised their names, proscribed their traditional celebrations, put peasants\u2019 berets on the men and stole the women\u2019s veils. \u201cWhen our people didn\u2019t want to wear the clothes that the Government gave them they had acid thrown at them\u201d, the family informed us. They celebrated the first day of democracy in their own way: in the queue for the official registry.<\/p>\n

Ribnovo. Saturday 10:00<\/p>\n

Fikrie\u2019s dowry shines in front of her childhood home. A bed with Turkish embroidery. Cuddly toys. Blankets for winter. A fifty inch plasma television. While the women gossip about the displayed items, a shepherd crosses the scene with his sheep. The wedding is about to begin.<\/p>\n

The first important event of the celebrations is the display of her possessions. With no thought of humility, the dowry is shown off with its latest technologies to the delight of the nosiest old women. \u201cThe mugs aren\u2019t made of porcelain\u201d \u201dThis fabric isn\u2019t imported\u201d \u201cWhere is the DVD?\u201d \u201cAnd what about the blender?\u201d The fall of the Berlin Wall has also cracked the borders of this culture. Traditions are powerfully affirmed under the unstoppable influence of modernisation. \u201cThe couple are old to be getting married\u201d, the majority agrees. \u201cThey should have had the wedding years ago\u201d.<\/p>\n

Fikrie is twenty-three years old and Ahmed is twenty-four. They met in a Physics class at the American University in the capital. They are not a traditional couple; they interact with the intimacy and complicity of having spent time together. Even if the bride has her doubts about the celebrations and being painted, the townsfolk are all ready. The band will play all day and night for the whole weekend. The lambs have been lined up. The fabrics and dyes have been chosen.<\/p>\n

It is a party for the whole town to join in. The celebrations mainly take place in the town square: music and a banquet for everyone. The Balkan melody of the zurna brings harmony to the hubbub of dozens of inhabitants milling around the band. The little ones rummage in their grandmothers\u2019 pockets looking for popcorn cornets. The women come out to dance in their pantaloons and veils specially put together for these occasions. The men accompany them dressed in designer suits. But the teenagers are the ones that last the longest; the girls wear out the end of their stiletto heels, whilst the boys watch them nervously, only sometimes losing their shyness.<\/p>\n

Single women can take their veils off when going into the bar \u201cif they are looking for a partner\u201d, the people of this mountainous village explain to us. The Pomaks of Ribnovo are not fussy about the number of guests or religious guidelines. The banqueting tables await the guests laden with lamb, soft drinks and also beer.<\/p>\n