The Babau festival

 

The Babau festival is an annual festival that is held in Rivesaltes. It is based on a local legend that dates back to the 12th century and thus sets back the clock to medieval times. It revives an ancient account of “the Babau”, a monster, if not a dragon, which breached the defences of the town and devoured several infants.
At 11 o’clock in the morning, during the month of August, the Babau makes his first appearance in the streets of Rivesaltes, escorted by the giant Galdric Trencavent and his wife Radegonda, following by young men on horse, as well as displays representing a catapult and a forge. As time goes by, various other attractions, ranging from jugglers to marching bands, join the procession, and the spectacle grows.
As evening comes, the music gets louder, as if to dampen the cries of the monster which is nearing the end of its existence. He will soon be sacrificed in a fire display, as soon as the night begins to fall.

The legend

Everyone in the Roussillon has heard of the Babau (pronounced Babaou). The monster is often used to create panic – either real or more often for entertainment value – in small children. And it is said that the monster manifested itself in Rivesaltes a long time ago, though more than this high level overview is seldom known amongst the population at large.

Old Rivesaltes

Since about 500 years, the agglomeration of Tura and its chapel dedicated to Saint Martin, on the left bank of the river Agly, was often – too often – the victim of a series of inundations and hence was abandoned, resulting in a settlement on the right bank, where some hundred houses were erected on the inside of a defensive wall, which, on the North, towered over the Agly, which enforced the defensive quality of the town.

The river had its mill, the town had its common oven, for few families were rich enough to have one of their own. The oven was placed in the thickness of the walls that were situated next to the Agly, and was pierced in several locations so that waste and rain water could run into the river.
But next to this mill was a hole which was much larger than the others. It was through there that the ashes, the waste and even dead animals were discarded. Because of its location, the hole was known as “el forat del forn”, or “the hole of the oven”.

One night…

The inhabitants of Rivesaltes would remember it for a long time. It was in the night of February 2 to 3, 1290, a night when there was no moon, but lots of stars. The temperature had dived below zero, but otherwise, everything was calm in the town. Everyone seemed asleep, and the gates of the town had been closed for the night, as usual. And there was no reason why people should be awake, for it was a peaceful period for the Roussillon, under the regime of King James II of Mallorca.
For several months, there had not been a need for watchmen on the towers. Only Fardoli le Sereno, punctual as ever, paced slowly through the street, exclaiming – singing – what time it was, as well as giving a weather update.
It had been at least a quarter of an hour since one end of the town had heard him say “son las tres i sereno”, when, suddenly, the people living next to the oven were awoken by a loud noise, a terrible noise of stones that were thrown about with force, as if a house was collapsing. Three houses even believed it was an earthquake in progress.
Soon, the noise became accompanied from children that were awoken, crying, some screaming, followed by more stones that were heard rolling in the streets, and then, as sudden as it began, silence – total silence.

It was then that the town’s quarter realised the size of the devastation – the disaster. In total, six children had disappeared, all of them very young, babies; the cries and screaming of their parents woke up those who thought the renewed silence was a signal for going back to sleep. The alarm bells were rung and soon, everyone in Rivesaltes was awake, trying to find out what was happening.
Someone, something, an enormous beast had entered through the “forat del forn”, enlarging the passage to get through properly. He – it – had taken, in their sleep, from their cradles and their small beds, innocent children. The consternation was visible on everyone’s faces. The procession of Saint Blaise, which was scheduled for February 3, was immediately postponed and instead, the priest said, there would be a prayer session for the innocent victims of this unknown assailant that morning.

More visits

Two further nights of terror were in stall for the town, with more raids and more disappearances. The events were severe enough for watchmen to be reinstalled on each of the seven towers that guarded the town. Each one was armed… as much as any man could be armed.
But when the beast returned, there was little they could do. They said its arrival was like a great wave of water that came on the otherwise calm Agly, then another noise when the water was thrown out of the river bed, and some washing back into it. Those who saw it, compared its appearance to an iguana, but prehistoric, but with a much larger head. Round eyes, but enormous eyes. Shining, demonic, like those of a cat. Powerful jaws, big teeth, a thin body, ending in curled fingers, and of course the required gigantic nails on top of them. All of this covered by scales, atrocious looking, hard; any arrows the watchmen shot at him, just fell off the monster, as if it was made of stone.
When the watchman who was closest to the hole was asked how it looked, what he saw, he was so taken by fear, that he could only utter “Vavau”, pronounced “Babau”, which means “it is”. Hence the name of the monster was born.

A counter attack

It was the lord of Fraisses and Perillos, Galdric Trencavent, who became instrumental in the disaster that was befalling Rivesaltes. He was a beautiful man, tall, with powerful muscles, an accomplished hunter, the terror of the wild boars of the area. He proposed that he would kill the Babau. And his offer was accepted with joy, this during a memorable meeting in which Galdric participated, as well as two consuls and their councillors, where a detailed plan of attack – or defence – was drawn up. The following night, the plan would be executed.

The “Forat del Forn” was cleared and a young pig was placed there as bait. On the fourth night, the watchmen heard the now all too familiar noise of water being displaced. Galdric was informed of the monster’s approach and he positioned himself, waiting for the monster.
He and the others heard the monster hitting the wall and then, all too sudden to be fully prepared, the head of the monster appeared through the hole. It was at the moment when the Babau threw himself at the small pig that Galdric shot an arrow in the open mouth of the monster. He knew there was little chance of killing it with just one arrow, but he knew it was his best shot. Indeed, the monster became wild, shaking his head and trying to dislodge the arrow from his mouth.

The quarry

Soon afterwards, the inhabitants of Rivesaltes learned that the monster was wounded, and they knew it had gone into hiding, near Ortolanes, where it was said to have died from exhaustion. A delegation was sent over, under the command of the town’s leader. Of course, Galdric was part of the group, taking up the lead, together with the other watchmen who had seen the monster and wouldbe able to recognise it.
When they came upon the dead carcass of a monster, they were formal: it was indeed the Babau, which had succumbed to his injuries. So that the inhabitants of the town would accept the monster’s death, and remember the tragedy, three bones of the Babau were brought back to Rivesaltes with them.
One was put on display in the church of Saint Mary, another in the chapel of Saint Andrew and the third was given to Galdric, by the people of the town in recognition of his valiant efforts. The presentation occurred in an official Te Deum sung in the church of Saint Mary. As expected, the ceremony was followed by a procession, then dancing, for the monster was finally dead.

Today…

Only one of three bones of the Babau of Rivesaltes has withstood the test of time, which is nevertheless not a small feat, seeing the many centuries that have passed since the event occurred. It is currently on display in the Tourist Information Office of Rivesaltes and the visitors can admire it there, a silent witness of a turbulent past, a relic that the monster was real and that the entire tragedy was not imagined. The artefact tries to fulfil its purpose now, as it may have done back then: trying to convince the people that eh entire tragedy had been real.

Filip Coppens