Christmas Day: Pain and the Pelzmartiga

Christmas can be a real pain in the neck. Kids can be a real pain in the neck. Traveling during the holidays can be a real pain in the neck. Buying over-the-counter medications in Europe can be a real pain in the neck. Which is why, on Christmas Day, in Kandersteg Switzerland, I found myself in a doctors office explaining that I needed some anti-inflammatory medication because I had a real bad pain in my neck.

I’m not trying to complain here, but Christmas morning I woke up and was virtually unable to turn my head. I could look down okay, but looking up or to the sides was impossible. I knew what was going on, and I knew I just needed some Aleve to help it… but we didn’t have any. So I had to walk a couple blocks on Christmas morning to the local doctor so he could examine me and recommend some anti-inflammatory medication.

“You live in Switzerland?” he asked when I showed my Swiss health insurance card. “Yes. I live near Bern.” “Where do you work?” he asked me. “At the Inselspital,” I answered. “You’re a doctor?” he asked chuckling slightly. “Yep.” “What kind?” “Orthopaedics.” He now moved to a full on laugh. “I know,” I said, “this is all very silly.”

But I was thankful to have him there, and have learned more about the Swiss Health Care System in the meantime. Either way, by the end of the night I was beginning to feel better, and by the day after Christmas I could almost move normally again.

It turns out that Christmas in Switzerland has a contingency plan for this sort of thing. The Swiss have a tradition called the Pelzmartiga that is intended to ward off poor health, poverty, war, and danger. And they do this by trying to scare them away. So as we sat at Christmas dinner, an elegant 5-course meal with our children, we suddenly heard banging as though someone was dropping lots of pots and pans in the kitchen.

Instead, it turned out to be a group of citizens from the village, dressed up in traditional Pelzmartiga costumes, banging cowbells with old iron hooks. The walked into the hotel restaurant, mingled among the patrons alternatively scaring and consoling the children, and created the greatest ruckus I have ever heard at a Christmas dinner. To quote Henry: “They are very, very, loud.” Within ten minutes they were gone, and the children were beginning to calm down. But the impression will last a lifetime. Nothing caps off Christmas like a good scare!

Reading more about it, and speaking to locals, the Pelzmartiga are made up of the following characters:

• The Chindlifrässer (Child Eater) wears a mask with a gaping mouth and menacing teeth. He carries a backpack with legs dangling out of it. The legs belong to a child that has fallen victim to him. The Chindlfrässer scares away famine and disease which, until the last century, caused the deaths of many young children.
• The Chriismarti is dressed in evergreen branches and symbolizes the many dangers presented to men by winter in the woods.
• The Blätzlibueb wears a gown of sheer fabric scraps to scare away poverty.
• The Huttefroueli looks like an old woman carrying a war-torn soldier in a basket on her back. She scares away the threat of war.
• The Spielkartenmann, covered all over with playing cards scares away desires to gamble and imprudent spending.
• The Burli, a simple villager with pipe and nightcap. That’s all I could find out about that guy.
• The Lyrimaa plays a hurdy-gurdy. You can throw money into its money slot to buy your freedom from evil powers.
• The Heri, a gentleman in a tuxedo, hat, and white gloves holds a whip which he uses to keep the wild gang together and disciplines them if they become to violent.