Antique grey carriages harnessed to steeds that high-stepped down a country road, bearded men in long black coats and brimmed hats, women in flowing dresses with heads covered in bonnets, rosy-cheeked kids in equally archaic apparel trudging off to school, a farmer harvesting the bounty of his fields with a horse-drawn cart, animals grazing on the lawns of farmhouses and some snuggling under towering grain silos… No, we had not entered a theme park, nor had we gate-crashed a Hollywood shoot. We were in the Amish village of Intercourse in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, that has chosen to remain fiercely rooted in its past. As a result, a slice of 18th-century Europe, still alive and kicking, has been superimposed on a thoroughly modern USA.
Our admiration—perhaps tinged with envy—for the community grew as their simple and seemingly uncomplicated, yet wholesome lifestyle, unravelled across the rural landscape they call home. Strict interpretation of the Bible helped them keep the onslaught of modern comforts at bay. They would rather walk or ride in a horse-drawn buggy than step into a car. And the train would be just fine if they were to set off on a long-haul journey.
Their homes are devoid of modern appliances for the simple reason that they do not have electric connections. No TVs, radios, washing machines, dryers, phones, refrigerators… And they seem to manage very well without the standard fittings typical of most US homes. A guide with The Amish Experience ushered us through a model home. It was like stepping into another era, a world shielded from modern commercialisation, a place where life was simple even if it was regimented.
The Amish dress code is traditional black. Unmarried men are clean shaven; single women wear white bonnets and are allowed a little colour under their aprons to advertise their status. The simple lifestyle keeps them close to nature and their farms are tilled and harvested with good old-fashioned horse power rather than motorised tractors. Why were we not surprised when a member of our group expressed a desire to be part of this uncomplicated world? The only way to be Amish is to be born one. And should a member marry out of the community, the Amish will shut him or her out of their world.
We found ourselves wondering if the Amish way of life, while wonderful in its simplicity, could become more than a little stifling in the long run. The answer probably lay in a short movie, Jacob’s Choice, that we had seen at the start of The Amish Experience tour. It is the story of a young Amish lad who, like all 16-year-old Amish lads, steps out into the big bad world to experience what it has to offer. It is his first crack at driving a car, tippling, smoking, maybe even meeting girls… However, once he turns 19, he has to make a life-defining choice: to be baptised once more and join the Amish fraternity with no questions asked, or judgement passed, about the wild oats he sowed… or to break free. According to our guide, around 85 to 90 percent choose to return to the Amish fold. And when they do, they must marry and have children. Since there is no mention of family planning in the Bible, Amish homes are filled with the patter of little feet.
Suddenly, a little girl in the group asks the guide, much to everyone’s amusement, “When Amish men and women get married, do they sleep together in the same bed?” It was not as absurd as it sounded for the Amish lifestyle, especially in an American context, seemed alien.
We found out how delicious it could also be when we stopped by at Plain & Fancy Restaurant for a late-afternoon Amish meal. Served on a sturdy log table while we sat on long benches without backrests, the food was simple, wholesome and satisfying. A thick soup was followed by salads and freshly baked loaves of bread, fried chicken, steamed sausages, roast beef, mashed potatoes, greens, fruit pies… they kept piling the goodies on our plates in an endless stream till we had to cry out, “Stop!”
Satiated, we strolled down an Amish themed-mall-cum-farmers’ and artists’ market when someone suggested a buggy ride. We seconded the proposal and soon we were clippity-clopping down a country road with an Amish gent at the reins of a two-horse carriage. “Of course, we co-exist with the communities around us,” he said. “Yes, you may take a photograph of me. No, we don’t shun modern technology. However, we are very careful and ensure it does not rule our lives.” Talking to this gentle soul made us feel like we were peering through a crack in the fencing around a forbidden world.
Yes, he had seen the movie Witness on a friend’s computer. A good part of the film was shot on location and he had to admit it was not merely a product of a scriptwriter’s fevered imagination. There was an understandable discrepancy though: at home, the Amish do not speak English but German, the language of their pilgrim fathers who fled religious persecution in Switzerland for the New World in 1737. It was the corruption of the word Deutsch (German) that has led to this region of Pennsylvania being referred to as Dutch Country.
The absence of overhead electric wires was a sure sign we were deep in Amish country. We shared the road with a few passing cars and other horse-drawn buggies. We trundled past a farmhouse with carriages parked in the driveway and horses grazing in adjoining fields. An extended family relaxed in a semi-circle on the lawns.
It was hard to believe that this was part of 21st-century USA. It seemed like an oasis of sanity in a world stumbling over itself in its single-minded pursuit of needless wants and mass consumerism.