That Word...

Haban... I was a young child when I first heard the word. My mother, whose parents grew up in the country presently known as Slovakia, was showing me a Slovak folk costume she owned. I was awed by the bright colors and intricate stitching of the articles of clothing. The skirt had tiny, tight pleats, the blouse's long puffed sleeves were embroidered with coils of gold thread. There was a colorful apron over the skirt and an embroidered vest to wear over the blouse. The outfit was topped off by two head pieces – an ornate bonnet and a collection of wide ribbons with more embroidery. My mother explained the bonnet was for a married woman to wear, the ribbons for young single girls. I knew we had a large extended family in what was then Czechoslovakia, and in my little girl mind, I tried to imagine my female relatives doing their daily chores wearing ornate costumes. I asked my mom if the people in Czechoslovakia wore clothes like this all the time. No, she told me, the people in that country wear modern clothing like we do. So, I wanted to know, when did our relatives wear these beautiful outfits? My mom told me that though many people in Czechoslovakia would wear such clothing for historical celebrations, our relatives would be unlikely to do so. A little disappointed, I asked why. "Because they are Haban."

Grandma's mother in Haban garb, circa 1930s

Haban... My mother told me the word meant "God's chosen people". Our relatives, she said, were descended from people who originally came from Germany, were very religious, choosing dark, plain clothing, the women wearing somber dresses and head scarves instead of the embroidered blouses, aprons, bonnets and ribbons. Most of our present day extended family now wore modern clothing, but, my mom said, relatives she visited in Czechoslovakia just before the second world war were still wearing the plain clothing and simple head scarves because, well, they were still Haban. I filed the word away in my child brain, putting it in some Catholic folder in my mind. We – my mom, my brother and I, my grandmother and grandfather – were Catholic, and being Catholic was the only thing I knew, so I naturally assumed that being Haban was being Catholic in some different, special way.

In the fifty plus years since I first heard that word, I've read about and researched extensively the people who were called Haban, my distant and not-so-distant ancestors. And, yes, they were/are Catholic in some different, special way. The focus of this blog will be to tell the story of the Haban, those people who came before me and how they have shaped who I am culturally and spiritually. Some of the entries will be historical, many spiritual and there will be anecdotes about Grandma and Grandpa, my maternal grandparents, both of whom identified as being Haben, each having at least one parent who identified as such. I hope to strive for some degree of historical accuracy in telling this story, but I also hope to make this history interesting and readable.

As in many hereditary-related endeavors, I found bits and pieces of who I am today in who my ancestors were in the past. For those of you reading this who are also descendants of Grandma and Grandpa, I hope you find bits and pieces of yourself as well. After all...Haban R Us...

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. - Psalm 16:6 ESV