Los Hoes

In the evenings, people would gather around the open fire to tell each other exciting stories and legends—tales featuring the supernatural, from the Héémannekes to the Kardoeshond. Whenever a “Todde” or a “Kiepenkerl”—a peddler—passed by, the latest news was passed along “from campfire to campfire.” It spread like wildfire throughout the village. The Todden lived about 50 kilometers across the border in Germany; they came from Oldenburg, Mettingen, and even Münster. Two brothers, Carl and August Brenninkmeijer, were famous: C&A and the Peek and Cloppenburg family. These Todden sold all sorts of things: mainly textiles. It was said that if there were a place in the world where no Todde had ever been, that place probably wasn’t worth the trip anyway. The Toddes bought linen in rolls from home weavers. They knew exactly where the skilled weavers lived, and in the spring they would purchase from them the rolls of linen they had ordered in the fall to resell elsewhere. It was a true art to roll the linen into tight, elegant rolls. These linen rolls, called “dookrollen,” were stored in the “kamnet” (cabinet). This linen cabinet was displayed on special occasions to showcase the family’s wealth. If the rolls weren’t wide enough for the cabinet, a small block of wood would sometimes be placed behind them, out of sight, to make them appear wider. The rolls were also often given as gifts. Anyone who had a spot “in the kamnet” held a privileged position within that particular family. The linen could spoil due to moisture, becoming moldy. You therefore had to inspect the quality during the day in daylight. “You shouldn’t store linen and women by lamplight.” Next to the ‘kamnet’ stands the ‘spinde,’ the pantry. The best and tastiest food was stored on the top shelf. Above the fire hangs the “haol,” or the hanging iron. This is where the kettle hangs for boiling water or a support for placing the frying pan. We all know the hot hanging iron—you’d rather not touch it. The maid’s last chore of the week, before she had the day off, was cleaning the ‘haal’. Then she could go on her way.

The farmer and his wife slept in the box bed closest to the livestock. The other box bed was for the children. Up to four small children could sleep in a single box bed—two with their heads on one side and two with their heads on the other. The farmhand and the maid slept on the low loft floor, called the “hiel.” If there were many children, a small bed or large drawer would sometimes be set up under the parents’ box bed; this is where the “underrated child” would sleep. Right next to or inside his box bed, the farmer kept his walking stick. A magnificent walking stick with which he could walk, goan, and ward off danger, sloan. The walking stick is made by nature. Wrap a honeysuckle around a branch and let both grow together. Cut the branch when it’s big enough, remove the honeysuckle, and attach a round knob to it. A lovely story about a walking stick is that of Gait. Gait wasn’t afraid of the devil, and he’d say so at every opportunity. You couldn’t run into Gait without him saying, “I’m not afraid of the devil.” Gait’s sister had been invited to a spinning party in Vasse, and Gait had to carry the spinning wheel. Marietje was there too, and it was a lot of fun. But during the spinning party, the weather got worse and worse. A massive thunderstorm was approaching. The weather actually got so bad that the farmer’s wife said, “Kids, you’re welcome to stay the night.” That’s how bad the weather really was. But Gait… “Gait wasn’t afraid of the devil,” his friends said, “so he might as well go home.” Gait couldn’t back down; he didn’t want to lose face. He grabbed his walking stick and set off through the rain and storm. In the barn, his friends find a cowhide and a cow skull, and they decide to teach Gait a lesson. His best friend drapes the hide over himself and puts on the skull. He hides in the ditch along the country road. Gait comes walking by with his cane; a flash of lightning illuminates the field, and his friend jumps up: “Boo, Gait! I’m the devil!” Gait is scared out of his wits, but doesn’t hesitate for a moment. He grabs his cane and strikes the devil right between the eyes. The next moment, it’s dark again and the devil has vanished. Gait feels like a real man and walks home through the rain, whistling. The next day, he runs into his friends in town and proudly tells them about his heroic deed. His friends then go searching and find Gait’s best friend in the ditch with a gigantic bump on his head. According to the story, Gait was never invited on a fishing trip again. So there you have it: you don’t need to be afraid of the devil—you just shouldn’t brag about it.

The Ootmarsum Open-Air Museum has the subtitle “Land of Lords and Farmers.” The museum offers a glimpse into how people in Twente lived two hundred years ago. It showcases not only the farmers—who, as tenant farmers, often led a tough, impoverished, and lonely existence—but also the “Lords,” who were appointed to manage the estates. There were many “high lords” in Ootmarsum: the Hofmeier, who was tasked with managing more than 100 farms on behalf of the bishop; the Drost of Twente, who was appointed by the stadtholder and had the authority to administer justice and collect taxes; and the Commander, who lived at the now-vanished Commandery of Ootmarsum, a monastery of the Teutonic Order. The residence of the last Drost of Twente is open to visitors; the museum park features an exhibition on the Hofmeiers, and work is underway on an exhibition about the Commandery of Ootmarsum. And the farmers? Well, “The farmer plowed on…” . Most of the museum park shows how farmers used to live. Close to nature, simple, self-sufficient, and traditional. Farming, housing, livestock raising, traditions, clothing, tools, and skills such as weaving, spinning, woodworking, blacksmithing, etc.—it’s all covered. Of course, it’s nice to reread the accompanying texts from the audio tours, but it’s naturally much more exciting to come back and immerse yourself in the rural life of Twente from two hundred years ago.

“Hey, come on in so you can take a look outside.” Everyone, welcome—come on in so you can look outside. The museum is like a story. A story about people; about where and how they lived, what occupied their minds, what they ate, how they slept, their customs and crafts, about language and traditions, about faith, about poverty, struggle, and wealth, about war and peace. This story is about knights, lords, neighbors, barons, citizens, and bishops. About textiles, agriculture, facade symbols, and “klöpkes.” About governance and development. And all of this for education and entertainment. So that we may know who we are and where we come from, what drives us, and perhaps even why. This museum tells the story of this region—the land of the Tubanti, Twente: the land of lords and farmers. The local dialect is a variant of Low Saxon. Low Saxon is an officially recognized regional language. The language area encompasses all of northern Germany up to the Polish border and across the Danish border. In the Netherlands, Low Saxon is spoken in Groningen, Drenthe, Overijssel, southern Friesland, the Veluwe, and the Achterhoek. In the Middle Ages, Low Saxon was a very prominent language; it was the official language of the Hanseatic League. As a language, Low Saxon is highly endangered. Only 25 percent of adults and 4 percent of their children in the language area speak Low Saxon. In recent years, there has been a renewed appreciation and interest in the language. The success of the regional soap opera *Van Jonge Leu en Oale Groond* is an example of this. Oh, and by the way, a “gieteling” is a blackbird, and if you’re lucky, you might spot a “kateeker” (a squirrel).

“Have a great trip,” people here often say when you’re leaving. We hope that this journey through the bygone days of the lords and farmers in Twente was not only an enjoyable trip, but also a time for reflection. In today’s Twente, you can still sense the spirit of the sturdy, hardworking people with their down-to-earth outlook on life. Here, they have “plenty of time.” Slowing down and being yourself is a great remedy for stress. We hope to welcome you again someday to the Land of Lords and Farmers, and for now we say:

“Goodgoan”

The manorial system is a system for managing estates—known as “manors”—that dates back to the early Middle Ages. The lord divided his estates into smaller parcels organized around a central manor or farmstead. These small units were allocated to serfs. During the turbulent early Middle Ages, many small farmers sought protection from a lord. The relationship between lord and farmer was defined according to the lord’s power; as a result, these relationships could vary by place and time. These farmers became serfs. A serf was a farmer with certain obligations to a lord. They did not own the land but did have rights of use, could accumulate property, and had a say in the inheritance of the farmstead they managed. With these rights came obligations. These could include surrendering a portion of the harvest or providing manual labor for the lord—known as manorial services. The relationship was reciprocal; the lord also had duties toward the serfs. For example, the lord was responsible for their safety. The serf was bound to the land and could therefore not move without his lord’s permission. If the land passed to another lord, so did the serf. The rights and obligations between serf and lord were subject to constant negotiation between both parties. Acts of war, crop failures, failure to fulfill obligations, or a lack of income on the part of the lord were all circumstances that could lead to adjustments in rights and obligations. The lists of goods that serfs were required to pay provide a good picture of the products cultivated in this region during the Middle Ages. The lists included, among other things: rye, barley, oats, beans, berries, honey, malt, pike, sheep, pigs, chickens, and cattle. As the Middle Ages progressed, more and more rent was paid in cash.

At the head of the manor stood a man known as the steward. Originally a serf, he was able to lead others due to his personality and authority. The steward was responsible for the day-to-day operations of the manor. Acting as the lord’s representative, the steward adjudicated disputes among the serfs, managed the estate, and collected the taxes and rents owed by the serfs for the use of the lord’s property. Since the early Middle Ages, the most powerful lord in Overijssel had been the Bishop of Utrecht. The area over which the bishop ruled as a prince was also known as “het sticht.” The bishop’s extensive estate on the IJssel River is known as “het oversticht” and encompassed the entirety of Overijssel, Drenthe, and the city of Groningen. To manage this effectively, the bishop established various manorial systems in Twente. Ootmarsum served as the main court in Twente. If a serf—for example, one belonging to the Oldenzaal court—disagreed with a decision made by their own court steward, they could appeal to Ootmarsum. In the late Middle Ages, the Ootmarsum manorial estate comprised approximately 140 farmsteads. These farmsteads formed a patchwork of holdings; some of them were located in what is now the County of Bentheim, across the border in Germany. The Bishop of Utrecht was not the only lord in Twente with serfs who were administered through a manorial system. Another major manorial system was that of the Teutonic Order, which owned the Commandery—the castle complex in Ootmarsum that once stood on this site. In 1527, ownership of the episcopal manors passed to Emperor Charles V and subsequently to his son Philip II. After Philip II was deposed during the Eighty Years’ War, the episcopal manors came into the hands of the States of Overijssel. In practice, little changed, except that the van Beverforde family passed down the office of court steward from father to son. The first van Beverforde to hold this office was Reint van Beverforde in 1612; he was married to a niece of his predecessor. The family acquired extensive landholdings and rose to prominence. Around 1720, Jan Hendrik van Beverforde was able to afford to have portraits painted of himself, his wife, and his son Hermannus.

For Twente and Overijssel, the Eighty Years’ War was a time of plunder and decline. Dutch and Spanish troops ran rampant in the countryside. Farmsteads were abandoned and farmland lay fallow. Calvinism had few followers among the population; indeed, the Iconoclastic Fury passed Overijssel by entirely. Oldenzaal remained under Spanish control for a long time. Protestantism, which was forcibly introduced, found little support, and large parts of Twente remained Catholic. Although freedom of conscience officially prevailed in the Republic of the Seven Provinces after the Eighty Years’ War, every Dutch citizen was expected to convert to the Reformed Church. Life was not made easy for Catholics. Their church buildings were confiscated. Secret gatherings were organized in clandestine churches and barn churches. Membership in the Reformed Church was mandatory to hold public office. A point of contention during the Reformation was the question of for whom the Bible was intended. The Catholic clergy believed that the Bible should preferably not be read by ordinary people; instead, they could listen in church to the clergy’s explanations as they read the Bible in Latin. The clergy acted as mediators between God and the faithful. The Protestants, on the other hand, believed that every believer should read the Bible for themselves and that a pastor was, first and foremost, a servant of the Word of God. This also meant that the Bible had to be available in one’s own language, preferably in a translation that was as reliable as possible. In 1618, the Synod of Dordrecht commissioned a translation from the Greek and Hebrew. This “States Bible”—so named because it was funded by the States General—served as the standard Bible for 300 years and had a major influence on Dutch culture and language. The translation was completed in 1637, and between 1637 and 1657, several hundred thousand copies were printed. Expressions such as “by the sweat of his brow,” “carried on people’s hands,” and “a feast for the eyes” originate from the States Bible.

Hermannus was born in 1725, the son of Jan Hendrik van Beverforde and Maria Keller van Neuenhaus. His father, Jan, came into possession of Hof Ootmarsum shortly before Hermannus’s birth, following a long-drawn-out inheritance dispute. This estate comprised real property that had been accumulated over the centuries through gifts and purchases within a system of serfdom. Jan had to dig deep into his pockets to acquire it and took out two mortgages. In fact, the estate had been in the hands of the van Beverforde family by inheritance since 1612. They bore the title of Hofmeier, steward of serf estates, but in reality they were large landowners. In 1748, Hermannus married Antonetta ten Cate. Antonetta’s sister Anna married Johan Georg Dröghoorn at almost the same time. . Hermannus and Antonetta’s marriage was short-lived, as Antonetta died in childbirth just three days after the birth of their son Anthony in 1756. In 1767, Hermannus married for the second time, this time to Mettina Alegonda Cramer-Knijpinga. She was originally from Groningen and was the widow of Hermannus Cramer of Ootmarsum. Both brought a son from their previous marriages: Hermannus, Anthony van Beverforde, and Mettina, Hendrik Knijpinga Cramer. They moved into the Hofmeiershuis on the main street in Ootmarsum. The two stepbrothers never got along. There were many arguments and conflicts over financial matters. This was a source of great sorrow for Mettina, who, in desperation, even attempted suicide in the town canal running behind the house. Three prominent Ootmarsum families were thus linked to one another: the van Beverforde and Dröghoorn families through Hermannus’s first wife, and the van Beverforde and Cramer families through his second wife. All three were part of Ootmarsum’s predominantly Reformed administrative and civic elite. Hermannus died in 1792 and, as a man of importance, was buried in the Great Church (Protestant at the time). Burial in the church was reserved exclusively for important people. Often, the grave would remain open for a while, causing an unpleasant corpse odor in the church. Hence the expression “rich stinkers.”

An atlas is a status symbol. It indicates that the owner has knowledge of the world. This atlas contains a series of copper engravings of maps and bird’s-eye views. The maps were created by various cartographers and publishing houses. The oldest engravings date from 1605 and were printed/produced by Nicholaas Visscher. The most recent engravings are from the Seutter publishing house and date from the late 18th century. In addition to Seutter and Visscher, the atlas also contains engravings by de Witt, Ottens, Hommano, and others. In total, the atlas contains 124 partially colored maps. An atlas of this kind was a major status symbol and a valuable possession. Its owner possessed knowledge of the world. The maps illustrated how the world had expanded through voyages of discovery and trade contacts. The maps themselves were exceptionally beautifully executed, though often outdated. Accuracy was of secondary importance. The atlas indicated that the owner was “a man of the world,” erudite and well-read.

Johan Georg Dröghoorn, the father of Wennemar Hendrik, was a wealthy man until the mid-1770s. He succeeded his father as steward of the Huys Ootmarsum and also served as steward of the stadtholder’s estate in the County of Bentheim. In addition, he derived income from his own farms, houses, and parcels of land. Furthermore, the bailiff of Twente, Baron van Heiden Hompesch, owed him a total of 13,000 guilders. In 1775, he was dismissed by the bailiff without any explanation. When he subsequently tried to recover his money, the drost would only agree to pay with debts that the farmers owed to the drost. Van Heiden ensured that Johan Georg also lost his job as steward of the stadtholder’s estates. Johan Georg had no choice but to accept the debt swap and was then faced with the thankless task of collecting his 13,000 guilders from “the poor folk.” Whatever the bailiff and his new steward thought they could not collect, Johan Georg was tasked with collecting. The story goes that Johan Georg still seeks revenge for the injustice done to him. They say he still haunts the Ageler Broek as the little red man in the marsh. To collect his debts from the farmers, Johan sets out, wearing a red jacket. Johan is a clever fellow and manages time and again to surprise the farmers and recover a good portion of his capital. In 1795, Johan died and, according to the story, was buried in the Ageler Broek on the left side of a birch tree. A year later, his family and loyal followers visited the grave. To their surprise, it was now located on the right side of the birch tree. Every year, the grave moves toward Ootmarsum. At first quickly, but gradually more slowly, and eventually at a rooster’s pace—one rooster’s step per year. A few years after his death, several children from Ootmarsum disappear in the Ageler Broek. They likely drowned in the marsh, but rumors soon spread throughout the town that the Little Red Man was behind it. Subsequently, his shadow is seen more and more often around farmyards in Tilligte and Agelo. The little red man is said to lure unsuspecting walkers into the marsh with a red light to steal their money. In a few years, his grave will arrive at the museum—the very place where his hated boss once lived. Who knows what will happen then?

Take a look at this old photo from around 1950. At the time, this building stood on the Markt in Ootmarsum, near the Kerkplein. It was a distinctive building with a striking, tall gable. It was a familiar part of the old townscape.
Over the years, it housed a variety of residents—from a saddler to a notary’s clerk. The building was even rebuilt in 1901. But in the early 1960s, it had to make way for new construction. In 1963, the buildings here were demolished to make way for the current restaurant, De Guldene Crone.
Fortunately, not everything disappeared. Part of the original building found a new home in the Open-Air Museum. There, it was rebuilt in a modified form. The tall pointed gable remained recognizable, but the building was made considerably smaller. Otherwise, it would have towered too prominently over the other buildings here.
Just compare the old photo with what the Hofkamer looks like today. The windows and doors are no longer all in the same places, but the characteristic shape is still clearly recognizable.
In this way, a piece of old Ootmarsum has been given a second life after all. No longer on the Markt, but here in the museum. And fortunately, it didn’t have to be completely reinvented to achieve that.

The earliest description of Ootmarsum likely comes from an account of the life of Bishop Raboud. This hagiography, written by a canon from Utrecht in the second half of the 10th century, recounts the death of Saint Radboud during a journey through the eastern parts of his diocese. Radboud fell ill and had himself transported to Ootmarsum, a place he enjoyed visiting. Radboud died in Ootmarsum in 917. The text notes that Ootmarsum is situated in a particularly beautiful location. Situated at the intersection of a major north-south route and the trade route from northern Germany to Flanders, Ootmarsum developed into a fortified town. In 1325, Ootmarsum’s town charter was confirmed. Many town farms feature a facade emblem, often consisting of crossed and stylized horse heads. Saxon examples of this highly stylized form, as seen on the Los Hoes, are known to date back to the first century B.C. For the Saxons, the horse—and particularly a gray horse—was a sacred animal. These horses were therefore believed to keep misfortune out of the farmstead. Another widespread archetype of the gable emblem is the “thunder broom,” a representation of the lightning bolts that Thor or Donar hurls at the earth. The symbol protects against witchcraft and, of course, thunderstorms. To ward off thunderstorms, house leeks were also often planted on thatched roofs. Since the mid-18th century, Catholic and Protestant gable symbols have come into vogue. Catholic symbols often feature ecclesiastical motifs such as the cross, the chalice, and the host. Protestant symbols are more purely decorative. The lily, as a symbol of the Reformed Church, is a common motif, and the vase motif is also quite widespread.

Ootmarsum is one of the oldest towns in Twente. Around 800 AD, one of the first wooden churches in Twente stood here. From the ecclesiastical base in Utrecht, Anglo-Saxon priests ventured into pagan Saxony to spread the faith—with mixed success. Charlemagne changed all that. Starting in the year 772, this Catholic Frankish king launched military campaigns to incorporate the Saxon territory into his empire. His first act of war was to order the felling of the “Irmensul,” an important Saxon shrine of great symbolic significance. The Irmensul was a large, upright tree trunk that, according to the Saxons, supported the entire world. The Saxons responded with open rebellion and by burning down the first wooden churches. They also elected a duke, a military commander who was required to step down in peacetime. The first duke known by name was Widukind or Wittekind; his strategy of constant rebellion against Charlemagne ensured that he remained the central authority in the Saxon region for decades. After Charlemagne defeated the Saxons in 777, he summoned all Saxon nobles to the imperial diet and incorporated them into the Frankish Empire while preserving their rights. Wittekind, however, refused to yield and continued fighting for another seven years. In 785, he realized it was a lost cause and was baptized. Charlemagne acted as his godfather, and the pope hosted a grand banquet in honor of the baptism. Wittekind became Charlemagne’s most important vassal in the Saxon region and was permitted to retain the title of Duke. With Wittekind’s baptism, the Christianization of the Saxons could continue with renewed vigor. Utrecht and Münster were granted bishoprics, and strict laws were enacted to enforce the transition to Christianity. The dead may only be buried near a church. Burning or burying the dead according to pagan customs is punishable by death. The same penalty applied to failing to baptize children. Ootmarsum served as a key stronghold in the Christianization of the Saxons and grew to become one of the largest parishes in Twente. Many legends surround Wittekind; for example, it is said that before his baptism, he always rode a black warhorse. After his baptism, he was seen only on a white horse. This white steed is featured, among other things, in the coat of arms of Twente.

The small building is a scaled-down version of the watermill that once stood here. Today, it demonstrates how paper was made two hundred years ago. Back then, paper was made from rags using a beater driven by water power. This took place in Twente, in the Het Springendal nature reserve. The Drost Van Heiden-Hompesch, who lived here at the former Commanderie Ootmarsum, owned five paper mills in this area. The waterwheel is an undershot wheel. The wheel has blades and is set in motion by the flow of the water. This clean energy was used to power the hammer mill, which beat the rags into pulp. In a scoop box, the papermaker scooped up the pulp using a scoop frame, and this sheet of pulp was laid onto a felt mat, pressed, and dried. We can no longer imagine a world without paper.

Marjon Droste will give a demonstration of traditional paper-making

On the traditional Harvest Day, the rye is harvested in various ways

Being asked to be a “noaber” is an honor, but it’s also not something to be taken lightly. By entering into a “noaberschop,” you commit yourself to the other person. “Noabers” are neighbors who have been specifically chosen. It’s the social network you can fall back on if, God forbid, things go wrong. They are the people who will be present at the birth of your children, at baptisms, engagements, and weddings, and also at your funeral. They are the ones who will stay in church until the very end and carry your coffin. So it’s a good idea to have at least eight noabers. When a young couple marries into an existing farm, they usually take on the existing noabers or, by mutual agreement, seek out others. If it’s a new farm, the new noabers are chosen and invited to join. A “noaber” is for life, and the responsibilities are anything but optional; it is therefore very important to establish and maintain a good relationship with your “noabers.” Among the neighbors, one is designated as the first or “emergency neighbor.” In all cases where neighborly assistance is needed, this person provides the initial help. A fun neighborly obligation is the registration of a child’s birth. This is done by the father and two neighbors who act as witnesses. On the way to city hall, a “credit” is established at a café for the registrar so that he can pick up a drink there at a later time. Of course, the father and the neighbors then raise a toast to the birth. If the farm is farther from city hall, they stop at several cafés along the way. So a farmer set out with his neighbors to register the birth of his beautiful daughter Lilliane with the municipality. It was a cheerful journey, but by the time they arrived at city hall, all three were so “drunk” that they had forgotten the name. The only thing they could remember was that it was spelled with many “ellen.” To this day, this daughter—now 84—is named Ellen.

Work was underway on the threshing floor. The rye was spread out on the floor, and the young men used flails and threshing clubs to beat the grains out of the ears. The flails struck at a steady pace, “every other beat.” The young men—even after work—still had enough energy left to court the ladies, which is why this period is also referred to as the “flail years.” It was a carefree time of camaraderie and adventure. After removing the straw—which was used, among other things, to make mats—chaff, grain, and dust remained on the threshing floor. These were tossed with a winnowing basket, allowing the wind to blow away the lighter parts: the chaff and the dust. The wheat was then kept in the winnowing basket. “Separating the wheat from the chaff” is still a proverb that recalls this practice. To stimulate the marriage market, a “spinvisiet” (spinning party) was occasionally organized in the barn. The young farmer’s daughter would then invite her friends to spin yarn together in the barn. These friends would have an unmarried brother carry the spinning wheel. This brought everyone of marriageable age together, and they would get up to some mischief. The farmer’s wife would look the other way when two of them disappeared into the hay.

Slaughter Corner

You know exactly what you’re dealing with when you slaughter your own pigs. Every farm held a slaughter in the fall. The local butcher often helped with this. Every part of the pig was used. The pig was cut in half and each half was hung from a ladder. During deboning, hams and bacon were separated, and other parts were ground into smaller pieces using a meat grinder to be preserved in jars or made into sausage. Blood sausage and liver sausage are Twente specialties. So is Twente “balkenbrij,” made from buckwheat flour, liver, bacon, and plenty of herbs. “A farmer doesn’t start on a shin until he’s finished the ‘balkenbrij.’” The tastiest parts of the pig were always saved for last.

It is sometimes said that “The Twente countryside was shaped by the hands of farmers.” The bocage landscape of fields and meadows interspersed with tree-lined hedgerows is typical of this region. Farming has undergone significant development over the years. In earlier times, the land was worked with wooden tools and horsepower; later, with tractors and an increasing number of machines. There were tools for plowing, fertilizing the land, sowing, and harvesting. At the beginning of the last century, mechanical farming became increasingly common, and today we see large, heavy machines—such as combines—that work large areas of farmland very efficiently. Things used to be quite different: laborious manual labor using simple tools. Since prehistoric times, people have shaped the land to their will. The development of agriculture has been the driving force behind this. Unlike the primitive hunter, the farmer transforms his environment and influences the nature around him. Initially, the farmer enriches nature. The variety of landscape types created by human intervention opens up opportunities for new plant and animal species. The prehistoric peoples who lived in this region, in the vast primeval forests, initially engaged in a form of overexploitation. On the moraines and sandy soils, the higher parts of the primeval forest were burned to the ground, and wheat was grown on the resulting small fields. No fertilizer was used; once the soil was depleted after a number of harvests, a new field was cleared in the forest. The old field was used as pasture for pigs and small cattle. The forest no longer had a chance to regrow on the depleted soil, and over time, heathland developed in these areas—which, much later, would cover large parts of Twente. More and more of the higher-elevation forest is cleared to make way for pastures and farmland. A direct consequence of this is accelerated water runoff through the stream valleys, which, in lower-lying areas, leads to flooding, marshlands, and the formation of swamps. Erosion creates fertile stream valleys, and after the birch forests that developed here were cleared, these areas gave way to flower-rich hayfields. Arable farming was concentrated in the higher-lying areas. Here, contiguous agricultural areas—the so-called “essen”—emerged. At the edges of the essen, we find pastures, known as “Hooilanden.” These were preferably located near water and close to the farm. These pastures were surrounded by fencing and vegetation such as pollarded willows. It is these hedgerows that make the Twente landscape so attractive. Around 800 A.D., the first villages and towns emerged here. They were still just small settlements in a wild region. The population consisted of tribes or family groups allied with the Saxons, primarily the Tubanti, after whom this region is named. Their beliefs bore many similarities to Norse mythology. Freya, Tyr, and Wodan were the gods who were worshipped. Even today, traces of that ancient era can still be found in Twente.

There is a well-known saying: “And the farmer plowed on.” The land was tilled using a wooden plow and, later, an iron plow, pulled by an ox or by horses. The soil was loosened so that seeds could be sown and plants planted. The soil had to be fertilized. When the crops sprouted, weeds had to be pulled, and when the harvest was ripe, it had to be brought in. That was hard work. A well-known saying goes, “If the farmer just sits on his butt, no potatoes will come out of the ground…” Rye, oats, wheat, and barley were grown there. During harvest, these crops were cut with a scythe, known as a “zicht.” The crops were gathered into bundles, called “sheaves.” These sheaves were placed side by side in the field to dry, forming “stacks.” Fully loaded wagons were taken to the farm, where the chaff was separated from the grain. The seeds were taken to the miller, who ground them into flour, and the baker used this flour to bake bread. The farmer’s wife usually had a small vegetable garden next to the farm for her own use. Over the years, agriculture became increasingly mechanized. The horse disappeared, and the tractor arrived. Ingenious machines for sowing, planting, and processing the harvest were used more and more. Threshing machines, potato harvesters, choppers, etc., were designed to make the work easier. If you take a look at the Twente countryside today, you’ll see the large combines from the agricultural equipment companies that, during harvest time, bring the corn, rye, or oats straight off the field and process them all at once, allowing the harvest to go directly to the factory. Things used to be quite different. Small farmers engaged in both crop farming and livestock raising and had to work all day long just to make a living. “A skinny cow and a fat horse aren’t worth a thing to a farmer.”

The shepherd kept his flock in the sheepfold. The flock often consisted of sheep belonging to different owners. In the summer, they could be found in the fields—the communal heathlands. Around 1800, 80% of Twente consisted of heathlands—wild, rugged terrain. The sheep ensured that the heath did not become overgrown or turn into forest. The shepherd knew the best stories about the creatures in the fields—about “the gray foals,” “the ghost hares,” “the hellhound,” and “the white women.” “Wief” has traditionally been the Twente word for “woman”; it was only under the influence of the negative connotations of the Dutch word “wijf”—as in “viswijf” (fishwife)—that the word “vrouw” (woman) supplanted “wief.” “Witte” refers to knowing something, to purity, to knowledge. A “wit wief” is thus a woman who possesses a great deal of knowledge. This woman knew everything about herbs and often served as a midwife. If a cow fell ill, the “witte wief” was called in, and she knew exactly what to do. Sometimes the “wief” was a single, elderly woman who lived on the heath or in the woods. Under the influence of witch-hunts, she was an easy target. These days, it’s best not to run into a ‘wit wief.’ They live underground in the old burial mounds, where they hold grand drinking parties and lure young men to them. To trap them there forever. If they dare, they ignore the warning sign and sneak into the farmhouse at night to steal beer. These white women are dangerous folk.

A farm maid was entitled to a small plot of land on which she could sow flaxseed. This privilege was stipulated when the employment contract was signed and formed part of her wages. The maid was often entitled to a “spint”—a plot measuring 12 by 12 steps—of flax that was kept near the manure. Flax requires good fertilization. This flaxseed, or linseed, was sown on the “lienstuk,” the flax field. There are two types of flax: white-flowering and blue-flowering. The white variety, which is shorter and has more branching on the stem, is sown for seed yield. The blue-flowering variety is sown for its fiber, which can be used to make textiles. The maid could process the harvest into linen for her trousseau. In Twente, there were many farmsteads where a “rot farmer” lived. These were not unpleasant fellows, but farmers on whose land the “rot” or “reut” pits were located, where the flax was rotted. To protect fish stocks, rotting flax in rivers and streams was prohibited throughout Northwestern Europe. Rotting was a necessary step in processing flax and ensured that the fibers could be harvested.

Weaving was the farmer’s winter work. The woman spun the yarn. The farmer did this on a loom. He threw or shot the weft—the crosswise threads—across the warp, the lengthwise threads. This process is repeated endlessly; that’s warp and weft. You’re surely familiar with that proverb. The warp threads were reinforced with starch because they wear out the fastest. Often, a special kind of bucket was used for this. Weaving was winter work, and if the starch paste froze, the weaver couldn’t continue and feared he wouldn’t be able to finish his work. “Et vrös em op ’n emmer”—“it’s freezing on the bucket”—is an expression in Twente used to describe someone who becomes anxious. The warp threads—seven to eight hundred of them—were wound around a so-called “Boom.” That was quite a task. Setting up a Boom was done with a “noaber” (neighbor), and it was a precise, patient, and time-consuming job that naturally involved a lot of conversation. When a new ‘boom’ was set up on the loom, a new project was launched. Before the flax can be spun, the fiber must be separated from the wood; for this, one uses, among other things, the hekel. This is a plank with pins or nails arranged in increasing density, used to comb the wood fibers out of the flax fibers. Often, people would sit on both sides and take turns draping a piece of flax over the comb. “To put someone through the hekel” thus meant trying to find out the fine details of something.

During the Craft Days, iron is forged here while it's hot.

Clog maker Herman Bekhuis demonstrates this traditional craft in the blacksmith shop at the Los Hoes Open-Air Museum.

Thomas Stork bakes artisanal bread here