Halloween in La Colle
How astonishing! We had no idea that there were so many children in the village in the first place, and to see them all out with their parents — all in costume, all with masks or fluorescent make-up — was profoundly surprising. We’d never seen anything like it — the papier-maché pumpkins, the capes, the fake noses, the devil’s forks.Within minutes, the frenzied doorknocking started and the children’s penetrating chant of ‘du bon bon, du bon bon!’ at the door became more insistent. It wasn’t long before we had run out of sweets and chocolates. Too embarrassed to ignore the doorknocking, and lacking the language skills to convincingly explain the shortage of treats, we rugged up and headed out.
On the street, the scene was quite thrilling. It was certainly heartening to see adults and youngsters out together, all participating with such elan and excitement. Many young parents had brought their toddlers in arms. And it was far from being simply a children’s event — many of the adults were in costume themselves. The crowd surged up and down the street towards the village square, where the municipal authorities had arranged soft drinks and a disco. Wild-eyed children, intoxicated by the atmosphere, danced enthusiastically, ran back and forth, and squealed with excitement.
Then suddenly, as abruptly as it had started, the action stopped, and everyone went home. It was over.
The next morning, after breakfast, small groups of people marched quietly up the main street and, again, it was some minutes before we realised another village observance was to take place. The men in suits gave it away, particularly the tubby man with the tie and the furled flag over his shoulder — surely that would be the mayor? Wondering how this linked to Halloween, we followed them up and round the corner, and joined the small group of mainly older spectators outside the church.
You, I guess, will be ahead of us. What we were observing was the Toussaint ceremony to recognise the 'ancien combattants' — men and women of the village who had fought in wars, or had served in the resistance during the Second World War. Everyone present had made an effort — their shoes were immaculately shined, their medals were on show, young men and women in splendid dress uniforms conveyed the respect of later generations. The tone of the morning observance was very familiar to us — in Australia, our equivalent is April 25, Anzac Day. There was a palpable feeling of communal pride, of connection to an honourable tradition.
So how did this all come to pass?
Despite bizarre and frenzied efforts aimed, apparently, at convincing children to dress up and participate, Halloween is barely recognised in Australia. One of the problems here is the season. By 31 October, daylight saving for summer has started, and the evenings are usually long, light, and warm — not chilly and threatening as they might be in Europe. Halloween is regarded by many with some contempt, as an imported American custom of no local relevance; as a cynical marketing endeavour.
Similarly, in France, despite vague links back to Celtic custom, Halloween remains a controversial festival. While Toussaint has a long tradition as the day for visiting cemeteries, the day for remembering those that came before us, the day to acknowledge those who died for the 'patrie', Halloween in the American manner is apparently very new indeed, and as in Australia, scepticism is widespread.
But for us, Halloween and Toussaint in La Colle remain oddly linked highlights of our time in France, memories of being respectful observers deeply impressed by the vigorous expression of a shared esprit de corps by the residents. Maybe Halloween will thrive, maybe not — having seen it in full flight, I suspect it will. I certainly hope the people of France will long remember Toussaint and take the time to reflect on what is owed to the anciens.
