Editor’s Note: Drew Hawkins is in the Netherlands as part of an International Health Study Fellowship with the Association of Health Care Journalists, supported by the Commonwealth Fund.
New Orleans is known across the world for Mardi Gras, but many places also celebrate the Carnival season.
Take the small village of Schaijk in the Netherlands, for example. It’s about an hour and a half drive by car from Amsterdam in the southeastern region of the country. The sprawling city and network of canals gives way to the “green deserts” of fields full of sheep and cattle, dotted by windmills.
Once you arrive in the village of about 7,000 residents, all “normal life” ceases. The schools are closed. The streets are blocked off. Everybody is dressed up in bright colors, wearing face paint and feathers. From Saturday to Tuesday, it’s Carnaval here.
The village ceremonially changes its name from Schaijk to “Moesland” — “moes” being the name of Dutch kale that is grown in the area. The mayor gives over control of the village for the four days of the festivities to the “Prince of Moesland.”
But this year, they’ve chosen a princess: Princess Nicole — her full title being "Thirsty Highness Princess Nicole the First.”
Carnaval in the Netherlands traces its roots back to the 14th century, but the modern day tradition started after World War II. In Schaijk, this is the first time a woman has been selected by the “Council of Eleven,” who meet each year to select the new royalty.
Other Carnaval associations in other villages in the region have chosen a princess before, but Moesland has been considered more “traditional,” said Jeroen van Zuijlen, chairman of the Carnaval Foundation De Moeslanden.
Locals said it was a sign that “times are changing.” But it’s a welcome change, as the Carnaval celebrations, unique to the southeastern part of the Netherlands, evolve to incorporate new traditions into old.
Last fall, the Council of Eleven announced local resident Nicole Loeffen was selected to reign as princess. And the theme for this year’s festivities would be “All You Need is Loeff.”
Resident Josje Cornelissen, who has been celebrating Carnaval for more than five decades, said they were surprised by the announcement. The nomination is teased in the local newspaper and kept a secret until the nominee accepts the crown.
“Yes of course it was a surprise,” Cornelissen said, “But every year you are surprised who it is.”
Since then, the village has been hard at work building “wagons” — parade floats — by hand. Groups of villagers, many of whom have known each other since elementary school, worked together every free moment to construct the elaborate floats.
Carnaval follows a full life cycle for villagers in Schaijk. The first stage starts at an early age, when elementary school children — with help from their parents and schoolteachers — build smaller floats for the "frotkot," the children’s parade that is held on Sunday.
For the “second part,” the groups of schoolchildren often stay together, growing up and building floats for the adult parade on Monday. And when they grow too old to build and pull the floats, they move to the “third part” — they sing in the choir started by Cornelissen.
“Nobody wanted me to sing with them, so I thought, when I start a choir, they can’t get me out,” Cornelissen said with a laugh. “And it is a choir. Quality is not the most important, but to sing is the most important, and it's fun.”
“Being together is the fun,” her husband, Jos, added.
“The ‘third part’ is the best,” Josje said.
The "frotkot" started Sunday afternoon as groups of children pulled their floats and handed out Dutch candies dressed in costumes unique to their group’s theme, like Super Mario Brothers and Minecraft — “Moescraft” for the parade.
At the end rode Princess Nicole the First, in an enormous, three-story float pushed by a tractor — much like floats during Mardi Gras in New Orleans — waving to the crowd as a brass band played. To the rest of the Netherlands, Carnaval is seen as a strange tradition held by the southerners. But for everyone in Schaijk, it’s a way of life that goes back centuries. Former prince Joep Manders said he welcomed the change of having a princess rule the festivities.
“I think it's a good thing, yeah,” Manders said. “And it started actually when I was a prince, I took my wife with me as the princess. And we made it a little bit more important. And after that, since a couple of years in different areas, they choose a princess as the leader of the town. It’s in good hands.”
After the children’s parade is finished, the villagers head into a giant tent built specially for Carnaval. They grab beers and take seats around wooden tables. And then, they sing along with the choir.
The celebrations continue well into the night, and then the little village goes to bed. On Monday and Tuesday, they’ll get up, get dressed and do it all again, with more parades, more singing, more celebration. On Wednesday, they’ll go back to regular life and wait for next year’s Carnaval.
The villagers said it’s a shame that half of the Netherlands doesn’t know Carnaval, and they’re missing out on the festival of all festivals; a celebration for young and old, which traditionally meant letting loose before the Catholic fasting period of Lent leading up to Easter.
But all are welcome.
“Even those who don’t understand carnival at all,” said Thirsty Highness Princess Nicole the First, “[They] are always welcome to come and watch the parade.”
This story was produced by the Gulf States Newsroom, a collaboration between Mississippi Public Broadcasting, WBHM in Alabama, WWNO and WRKF in Louisiana and NPR.
