Novruz means "New Day"

Novruz is celebrated on the Spring equinox, the first day of the new year according to the Iranian calendar. While March 21st/22nd mark the holiday's calendar date (depending on your geographic location--the day is perfectly split by daylight and nighttime), people also celebrate four pre-holidays occurring the four Tuesdays leading up to Novruz. Each pre-holiday is symbolic of an element: Water, Fire, Air and Land. Novruz has its roots in Zoroastrianism, one of the world's oldest religions that was founded in modern day Iran. Some say that the forefathers of Zoroastrianism were fire-worshippers. However, the more accurate portrayal of the role of fire in Zoroastrianism is that followers believe that the elements are pure and that fire represents God's light or wisdom. Novruz is celebrated in the Caucasus, Central Asia, Turkey and parts of Northwest China.

A poster one of my students made to explain to our American penpals the significance of Novruz pre-holidays.

Novruz is Azerbaijan's biggest holiday. People talk about Novruz and its associated traditions year round. On each of the pre-holidays leading up to Novruz, families make huge feasts and serve Azerbaijan's national meals: plov and dolma. They also serve a variety of mayonaise-based salads, bread, pickled vegetables, a variety of nuts, and sweets including paklava. Each household also plants wheat grass on a small plate (called samani), symbolic of the coming of Spring, and tie it with a red ribbon for decoration. People also build bonfires on the streets with their neighbors. They burn old clothes, shoes and broken down parts which represents the cleansing aspect of the coming of Spring. One major tradition includes making a wish and jumping over the bonfire three times to bring it to fruition in the new year. Children run to their neighbors houses, knock on the door, throw their hats on the stoop, run away and wait for their neighbors to fill their empty hats with candy or baked sweets. Many people hard boil eggs and dye them with bright colors. It's also said that people eavesdrop at their neighbor's doors and if they hear people saying good things, the eaves-dropper will have good luck in the new year. The opposite is true if they hear mean-spirited gossip.

It's very interesting for me to see these Novruz traditions in action. Of course, I think Halloween! when kids leave their hats at their neighbors doorsteps to be filled with candy. I think Easter! when I see the colorful eggs. I also think Christmas! when I see the sparkle in people's eyes and listen to the excitement in the tone of their voices rise as they speak about Novruz during other times of the year. Like many things I encounter in Azerbaijan, I can't fit Novruz into any preexisting framework. Unlike Novruz, many other observed holidays in Azerbaijan like Qurban Bayram and Ramadan have their roots in the Koran. Instead, Novruz seems to reflect an aspect of the great influence of non-Muslim Persian culture on modern Azerbaijan.

Perhaps what's most striking about Novruz is the uniting effect it has on Azerbaijan as a whole. It's something that everyone looks proudly upon. Everyone spends time with their families and relatives. People who normally hardly ever leave their house travel far and wide to spend Novruz with their families. School is officially on break for ten days, give or take a few "unofficial" days on either side. People cook the same food, they make bonfires out of the same material, prepare the same decorations (samani and xonchas), and repeatedly send each other the same well wishes for success, happiness and good health in the new year. Women from every household spend A LOT of time making time-consuming sweets like paklava and shakarbura--both of which require the shelling and chopping of nuts and rolling sweet dough into thin layers.

Katie with the xoncha. 

I celebrated the pre-holidays with friends in my village as well a visit to my sitemate, Danny's village for Fire Tuesday there. As March 21st rolled around this year, I was having a celebration of my own as I welcomed my very first American visitor! I met Katie in Tbilisi and after three days of an adventurous and debaucherous reunion, we emerged upon Azerbaijan on the 20th. Just in time for Novruz's biggest celebration, as I'd talked up to Katie for months before her arrival. As we walked through my village on her first day in Azerbaijan, the streets were as bare as could be. Only hard stares by a handful of males unknown to me and a short exchange with a small group of my male students greeted us before we got to my house. For as much as people in my village talk up Novruz year round, the scene sure seemed pretty bland.

That night, having accepted a guesting invitation at my secondary counterpart's house, Katie and I celebrated Novruz (for the first time that week) by making Azeri toasts with red wine I'd ironically promised Katie we would not be drinking in my village, eating course after course of national meals, drinking tea, and enjoying the variety of sweets on the table with my counterpart, her husband, and her in-laws. After dinner and a series of interesting conversations about Madagascar, we joined the neighbors outside for a big bonfire. There were at least 20 people there: grandpas, grandmas, moms, dads, children, and at least one baby. The real fun began when the token Lada (a small, rusty, 4-door Soviet compact Sedan) pulled up and started blaring music from its nearly blasted speakers. Everyone started dancing, and poor Katie experienced the incredibly awkward feeling of being forced to Azeri dance for the first time. I told her it was good practice for the wedding we'd be attending the next week... I realized then, as I was twirling my hands and shifting my feet back and forth beneath me to the rhythm of the music, I was actually enjoying myself. While I am all too familiar with it, I no longer felt that strange sting of social awkwardness--in Azerbaijan it comes from a combination of constantly trying not to offend while being on the defense of your position as a Western woman--that as a newcomer, Katie was probably suffering through. I danced with everyone who invited me to dance with him or her. The people who weren't dancing clapped along to the beat or exchanged neighborly conversation. My favorite part was watching a middle aged and a young 20-something woman effortlessly dance Lezginka together.

Starting the bonfire.

Baby!

Novruz dancing. 

Lezginka. They were so good and had everyone's attention. 

Me dancing.

Jumping over the bonfire,

Katie's jump.

The next evening, Katie and I enjoyed another guesting experience with another English teacher friend in my village. We ate the same foods, same deserts and partook in another evening bonfire. The next day, five of my 5th form students came over to my house with Novruz sweets, and we had a picnic in my room. While I had conducted conversation-club style holiday celebrations for Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas at school, my students wanted to share Novruz with "my American guest" and me. They brought over bags of fruit, nuts and baked sweets to my house. I served tea and we all played UNO.

The next bonfire.

Happy guests.

Street-view.

My fifth-graders.

I understood Novruz a little different this year. In some ways, it is perfectly reflective of Azeri culture in the sense that it is family-oriented, it takes place inside people's homes, and it is centered on food and tradition. On the other hand, there is a slight mysticism to Novruz illuminated by the fires. I couldn't spell out exactly why Katie and I were served wine with our Novruz feast or why I could dance with young unmarried men just as easily as I could with women.  My reasoning is all speculation. What I do know is that throughout the whole celebration, everyone was very happy. What I took away from Novruz this year is that while women spend hours and hours cooking national meals and desserts, they take the opportunity to do it with their neighbors and relatives. They know that if they walk over to their neighbor's house, women there will be doing the same thing, and they can catch up on the latest news (read: gossip) until it's time to set the table. It's unifying. As a foreigner without a true family unity to operate within in the village, I think it's difficult to see that side of things--especially coming from a culture that values individualism so greatly.

I'll don't think I'll ever understand how a whole population of people can walk the streets without smiling at strangers or how women consistently choose to be caretakers while men go out to work. How young girls pass on opportunities to study abroad for fear of a damaged reputation upon their return to their home communities. How parents dote on their children hand and foot until they're married. How young brides are expected to move into her husband's family's house and care for her in-laws into their old age. However, seeing Azerbaijan through the Novruz lens taught me that happiness exists within cultural frameworks. There is much more beneath the surface that even after 18 months of living here, I've only just begun to discover.