Experience #7 Mardi Gras Experiences

In Gheens, Louisiana there is a tradition that after the parade each year, the “Mardi Gras” come out and whip the children and many adults with switches. If you wish to not be whipped, you must kneel down and say “pardon.” (And be sure to put your French accent on that.) I know the tradition has been in place for at least a century. My uncle tells stories about how when he was young, the girls would go to school the next day with welts on their legs from the switches.



My childhood friend as a "Mardi Gras."



The “Mardi Gras” remain along the highway, and visitors looking to witness the spectacle must line up along the road to wait their turn to be whipped by the “Mardi Gras” who travel by the trailer full.

I stayed a couple of times when I was a child for this tradition, and I have never remained after the parade when given a choice since. Imagine scarring a child like that?

When I was young, there were fewer rules in place than there are now. Back then, they ran down the streets, through your houses, and didn’t stop until they caught you. One year, I spent the entire time praying “pardon” as the Mardi Gras chased down and whipped my cousins vehemently.

The last time I remember being there for the yearly ritual, I spent the time locked in my nanny’s bathroom listening to the “Mardi Gras” rampage through her house trying to get through the locked door.

No surprise that I haven’t remained since I was a child. Whose parents subject them to this?

I thought this year I’d be brave and maybe stand halfway up the street and watch. My son who NEVER tries anything, walked all the way to the front to watch. I joined him in the front to make sure he knew what he was getting into, and he insisted he wanted to stay. So, of course, I had to at least be as brave as an eight year old, so I stayed.

I have to admit that when they got closer, I did step back from the road, oh, I’d say about one hundred feet or so. I did not take off running though. I can at least pride myself in that.

My son on the other hand took off running when the “Mardi Gras” jumped off the truck and chased the group of boys he was with and left his mom in the dust. He managed to outrun the “Mardi Gras” half way down the street and hide from him behind my cousin’s house.

I, on the other hand, was whipped by a childhood friend in his full Mardi Gras get up. I could remember when we were children that he was forced to the ground with all the “Mardi Gras” piled on top of him. It must be nice to eventually be the one with the power to whip others.

A lady never kneels, so I took the whipping bravely and even posed for a picture with my assailant.

So it wasn’t so bad after all. No need to be afraid for all those years. (Well, honestly when I was younger it was much rougher, so I probably did have reason to fear back then.) It was all worth it just to see my son try something new. Maybe these no fear experiences are rubbing off on him. I can only hope.