The Raising

Heave! Heave!

Muscle and sinew strained as the ropes tightened and the final section of the new barn was borne aloft. A collective sigh of relief was uttered as the lead carpenters hammered in their pegs and the weight was released from the overburdened shoulders of those lifting below. It had been a morning of hard, unrelenting labour and the workmen were looking forward to the bean-feast that had been prepared for them by their womenfolk. The rope bearers meandered across to a laden table; slowly to allow the carpenters a chance to catch up. It took all of my self restraint to match their pace. I was ravenous from the morning’s exertions but also keen to rejoin Rachael, my reason for being here.

I had been a traveller rather than a seeker. Disillusioned with city life, I’d been roaming the rural areas of the American mid-west for a couple of years when I stopped in the small Ohio town of Sugarcreek. I’d thought little of the black buggies that I passed on my way into town – Amish and Mennonite communities were reasonably common in this part of the country – but when I saw Rachael working in a stall at the market I had a feeling I’d be spending some time here. Her dress may have been plain but she was quite the opposite. I stepped up, introduced myself and feigned interest in the stocked woodwork. I listened intently as she described dovetail and tongue-in-groove joints as if they were terms with meaning to me. We were about to exhaust the stall’s range of items when I espied a small sign stating that they did custom pieces. ‘Well Rachael, what I was thinking was that I’d like this’ rapidly grabbing a random nearby wooden table ‘in that timber’ pointing to a nearby chair.

‘We’ve got this table in the Cherrywood’ she replied, producing a near identical piece.

‘Not really the same though is it’ I lied.

She looked at me slightly perplexed. ‘You sure are a man with an eye for fine detail. Faddah does do custom work. I’m sure he can knock something together for you.’

‘Sounds great! Dare I ask how much it will cost?’

‘Well’ she mused. ‘I can’t give you a final price until Faddah sources the lumber. But a custom piece in Cherrywood?’ She paused. ‘About six hundred dollars.’

‘American?’

‘Yes’ she laughed. ‘It’s the preferred currency in these parts.’ Had she not laughed I may have baulked but now I was hooked.

‘About six hundred dollars it is then.’ I smiled to hide the pain I was feeling in my hip pocket. ‘I shall return.’

‘I will see you then English.’

I walked away as casually as I could. I still hadn’t found lodging and it was starting to get long into the afternoon. I jumped in my car and pulled into a nearby bed and breakfast. It would do for the evening. As I settled in I noticed an abundance of rustic furniture. ‘Are you willing to sell any of this timberware?’ I asked the proprietor.

‘If you make a good enough offer’ she replied. ‘Pretty much every B&B here doubles as an antiques dealer.’

‘And buy?’

‘If the price is right.’

‘Good to know’ I said. ‘Good to know.’

The next day I headed back to the market and visited my now favourite stall. ‘How is your Faddah [I knew one word of Pennsylvania Dutch and there was no way I wasn’t going to use it] coming along with my table?’

Rachael laughed her infectious laugh. ‘You have a bit to learn about the speed of Amish workmanship. It will be a while yet.’

This was the best news I’d had all day. I had my excuse to make daily visits and daily visits I made. Eventually an invite was made to visit Rachael’s home to check on the table’s progress myself. Faddah’s name was Vernon and he welcomed me into his workshop.

‘Sorry it has taken so long but I’ve been preparing the panels for our new barn. We have a working bee planned for Saturday and I need to have them ready by then.’

‘No need to apologise. I’ve enjoyed spending time in these parts.’

‘You seem to be enjoying spending time with my daughter’ he said.

This caught me on the hop but I could see no point denying it. ‘That I do, that I do.’ I thought it prudent to change the subject. ‘Tell me about this working bee.’

‘An old fashioned barn raising. Parishioners from all around these parts coming over to assist. Doesn’t happen much anymore.’

‘Sounds fascinating’ I said. ‘I’d love to come and take a look.’

‘No spectators at a barn raising’ Vernon replied curtly. Then his face softened. ‘Although we can always use another set of hands.’

‘My hands are at your service’ I replied. ‘Just don’t expect anything skillful from them.’

‘As long as they can hold onto a rope you’ll do fine. Be here early, we start at dawn.’

Saturday arrived in due course and having found a park among the multitude of buggies I made my way over to the worksite. I saw Rachael pouring coffee out to the workers. She introduced me to her brother Amos as she handed me a steaming cup of the bitter liquid. ‘I don’t really know what I’m doing’ I admitted sheepishly.’

‘Don’t worry’ he replied. ‘Stick by me and you’ll be fine.’

We drained our cups and with the others set to work. In the absence of other non-Amish the men spoke in Pennsylvanian Dutch, however given my lack of knowledge on the finer points of barn raising this was not the handicap it might have been. I spent the morning aping Amos and by break time felt I had acquitted myself reasonably well.

We settled at the table and Rachael came to join us. We ladled food onto our plates as the stragglers from the roof of the barn continued their way over. I thought I’d try striking up a conversation to distract myself from my stomach. Thought I might as well try and garner some information while I was at it. ‘So why do the younger women wear black bonnets and older one’s white?’

‘Our Ordnung prohibits jewellery, that includes wedding rings. The white kapp means that a woman is married, as does as a man’s beard. A black kapp is the indicator of a spinster.’

‘You learn something new every day. Seems odd to be building a new barn. This area seems to have no shortage of old ones.’

‘Well you see’ said Amos, ‘the old one burnt down.’

‘How did that happen?’ I asked nonchalantly.

Amos’ face went stony. ‘You ask a lot of questions English.’ He looked around at his brethren conspiratorially. ‘Can you keep a secret?’ I saw Rachael scowl silently at him.

I hadn’t really cared but now my interest was piqued. ‘I should think so.’

‘”Should” and “think” may not be good enough’ replied Amos. ‘If this secret should ever threaten to leaves these grounds then it’s carrier may never leave them either’. The men surrounding us took on stern looks. Rachael scowled even more fiercely.

‘It seems I’m in for a penny’ I rejoindered. ‘Tell me your story.’

‘Well English, you need to know a little about our family...’

Rachael jumped up and interjected. ‘Amos! You stop this instant...’

‘...now sister let me finish!’ Amos fired back, holding his hand out to silence her. She sat back down with a humph. He softened his voice again. ‘Rachael had a twin sister named Sarah. She was having her Rumspringa...’

‘Rumspringa?’ I queried. ‘Isn’t that when you guys are allowed throw out the rule book?’

‘Not really’ Amos replied. ‘Someone on their Rumspringa is not yet baptised and as such not yet bound by our Ordnung, however these are small communities and everyone knows everything. Families can still be shamed by the misbehaviour of its members. Now English’ his voice dropped to little more than a whisper ‘pride is an insidious thing. It is unquestionably a sin, yet if we did not take pride in our workmanship then what would happen to the standard of our products? How can one look at a newborn and not feel it? We Amish wear the same clothing and avoid material goods to avoid envy. We live simple to repudiate sloth. Our greatest heroes are the pacifist martyrs – wrath is hardly in our vocabulary. Gluttony is uncommon. No amount of plain dressing though will kill lust. We are not gelded as are our horses.’

‘Lust and pride. During her Rumspringa lust got the better of Sarah. She met an Auslander. She snuck him home and hid with him in the barn. Our younger brother Leroy came across them rutting like the pigs he’d gone to feed. They covered themselves in straw and tried to cover their shame. They begged Leroy to keep his counsel, but he is a boy obedient to his parents. He ran back to the house and told Faddah. Faddah rushed out before the lovers could finish re-dressing. Then you see English, pride took over. We are people respected in our community. We may not have telephones but word still travels fast. Sarah cried but Faddah knew there had to be an atonement. Sarah screamed for forgiveness but Faddah locked the door of the barn and set it alight. Sarah and the Auslander pleaded to be released. The confined animals caterwauled terribly. But pride English, pride stymied Faddah’s hands. The flames grew and drowned the screaming. Soon only the roar of burning timber could be heard.’

I looked upon Amos, gobsmacked. As I gazed at him I saw the corners of his mouth turn. Milliseconds later the whole group broke out laughing. ‘It was struck by lightning. We may not use much technology’ Amos said between bursts of giggles ‘but we do have chains to yank. Someone get this man his Pannenbier!’