ROSELLA’S LITHUANIAN ADVENTURE
By Gloria Kivytaitė O’Brien
Rosella Kutaitė
is 15 years old. Her parents are Joseph and Mary Kutas, Lithuanian-Americans.
Rosella is named after her beloved Močiutė,
her father’s mother, Rožė,
who patiently taught her to speak Lithuanian. She misses her Močiutė, who passed away last
year. She and her parents, and her bratty 10-year-old brother, are visiting
Rosella is
interested in all things Lithuanian, while her brother, Juozukas (he prefers to
be called Joe), spends most of his time complaining that everything is boring,
and that he misses his friends and his Little League baseball games.
Vilnius is as
busy as an anthill, and full of people wearing the colorful national dress. Bus
after bus disgorges endless groups of people, some of whom have come to
perform, and others who have come to watch and enjoy. The many hotels are
almost full, and cafes and restaurants busy.
The family has
dinner in an old-style country restaurant, where they have potato pancakes and
cepelinai, with Lithuanian beer for the parents and apple juice for the kids. Musicians
move from room to room, entertaining the diners with folk music. Juozukas
prefers to listen to rap on his iPod.
They go to Sereikiškių Park for the Folklore
Day. Rosella is wearing her Lithuanian national costume, a beautiful ensemble
made in
It‘s a sunny day,
and spectators stream in, stopping here and there to enjoy a dancing group or
listen to a song, many even joining in with obvious pleasure. Over to one side,
a blacksmith has set up his temporary smithy, and demonstrates his skill by
forging a sword while spectators observe and question him and his assistant.
Here, finally, is something that Juozukas thinks is interesting.
A woman is
telling a tall tale from Žemaitija about a courtship to an attentive
audience, and is pleased by their laughter and applause when she finishes the
joke with a double punch-line.
Another man has placed his bench against a fence and is
playing a musical instrument similar to a cimbalom, which he says he made
himself. A couple of women have set up a loom and are demonstrating
sash-weaving. A man walks around on stilts, and encourages people in his audience to try it. A few brave
souls do; everyone falls off, laughing.
After a while, Rosella finds that she has been separated
from her family, but she feels no anxiety, because according to a strict
long-standing family custom, her parents had designated a time and place they
should meet in just such a case. They were to meet at the park entrance in a
little more than two-and-a-half hours, so Rosella has time to wander around as
she likes. She heads towards the
She finds herself
in a densely-wooded area on the riverbank, near an ornamental little bridge.
There is a peculiar hush in the air, nothing heard but birdsong and the rush of
the Vilnele‘s waters. She sees a small house nearby and walks toward it. There
are three horse-drawn carriages parked at its doors, and as she approaches, the
scene bursts into life.
Several young men
dressed in national costume carry a large, heavy chest out of the house, and,
singing a playful ditty, place it in one of the wagons. Some young ladies, also
dressed in festive costume, leave the house, carrying wreaths and garlands of
ruta. Each is picked up and swung in the arms of the young men, and seated in
the wagons. All are singing and laughing.
An older woman rushes out of the house, and admonishes Rosella in
Lithuanian: „Rožele, Kur buvai? Mes visi tavęs įeškojome.
Where have you been? We’ve all
been looking for you. You know you must help us carry the presentation linens.
If we don’t rush, we will be late! Come now, get up into that wagon and don’t
wander off again!” One of the young men, whom the others call Anicetas, scoops her up and deposits her in the wagon,
with a smile and a wink. She is taken by surprise and concludes that she has
been mistaken for someone else. She decides to “go with the flow” and see what
happens further.
Soon a very pretty young lady, finely dressed, and wearing a
wreath of ruta, steps out, accompanied by an older couple who can only be her
parents. She kneels before them, and they give her their affectionate blessing.
The three are helped into the lead wagon, and the entire party starts
forth. They travel through a rustic
neighborhood that looks strange to Rosella - the houses seem smaller than she
expected, and spaced farther apart. There are no sidewalks, no paved streets,
no traffic, just packed earth and rocky paths. They stop at another, slightly
larger house, where another group of people are waiting, all in festive garb. A
handsome young man comes forward and helps the young lady down from her seat;
the older couple step down as well. They are welcomed by the young man and his
parents, and Rosella learns that she is to join the other girls in displaying
the gifts of beautifully-woven and embroidered linens to various members of the
welcoming party.
She realizes she has stumbled into a traditional Lithuanian
wedding!
Several of the young men ceremoniously lift the large, heavy
chest from its wagon and deposit it at the doorstep. Rosella now recognizes it
as the bride’s kraitis, her hope
chest, containing her dowry and all the fine things she has made and collected
through the years, in anticipation of her new life as a bride and mistress of
her own home. The chest is left indoors, as the wedding party and guests head
for the church.
The jewel-like St. Anne’s Church has been made ready - the
heavy doors are swung wide, and fragrant flowers are everywhere. Every bench
and pew is filled, and the priest, in his long, swinging cope, waits to join
the couple in Holy Matrimony. Rosella is excited to discover that she is
expected to walk down the aisle with the other young ladies, and blushes as a
handsome young man offers his arm with a smile and a wink. Wasn’t he the same
fellow who seated her in the wagon, and didn’t he bear a striking resemblance
to some old pictures of her grandfather, Rožė’s husband, Anicetas?
Rosella has no time to ponder, as the bride and groom are
already standing at the altar. Their voices ring with sincerity, affection and
religious awe as the priest leads them in their vows and instructs them about
their new responsibility to each other and to the future. The organ breaks
forth in a triumphal march as they walk down the aisle, husband and wife, to be
deluged with flower petals.
The young people are all talking at once, anticipating the
fun of the wedding reception, where the young ladies will dance and sing, and
enjoy the swings that have recently been built just for this occasion. The
young men are looking forward to “hanging the matchmaker”, and other jokes and
tricks customary at a country wedding celebration.
As the wedding party and guests make their way back to the
wagons and other conveyances, Rosella glances down the street and sees a flash
of color that attracts her. She steps away from the group of wedding guests,
and immediately finds herself in the middle of a crowd of tourists heading
towards the Cathedral, and
“Well, Rosie, where did you go off to? What did you see?”
“Daddy, Mom, you won’t believe what a great thing I just
saw!” And she relates her experience in detail, while her parents smile and her
little brother smirks, offering his opinion:
“You’re crazy, Ro! People don’t get married like that anymore,
even in
But her father has a different opinion:
“You know, my parents lived just around that area in the old
days, right near the river Vilnele. Mama
and Papa were neighbors, and I’m sure they could have met in just that way.
Let’s hail a cab and try to find the places you saw”. They pile into a taxi and
drive all around for an hour or so, but Rosella recognizes nothing. They
finally give up and declare the incident a mystery. “Perhaps, Rosella, you
stumbled across the threshhold of time for just a little while. Be glad you had
such a wonderful adventure!”
© Gloria O’Brien 2006
This article was printed in
Bridges Dec. 2006