The Saint Anna Chapel frees you from 'nocturnal enuresis'

You probably would have skipped the contents of this paragraph if the title had simply read St. Anne's Chapel. And if it had been followed by 'bedwetting' instead of this formal medicinal term, then you would never have been curious.

Here you can call upon Saint Anne when your little sprout – and thus you too – are suffering from bedwetting. It is not known since when desperate mothers have undertaken this kind of pilgrimage here. Let's say: since time immemorial. And they brought the diapers of their little ones with them. I have found nowhere whether these had to be diapers with contents or not. Apparently, the pilgrimage must have been busy because somewhere it is said that there used to be lines full of children's cloths here. Or should we take that with a grain of salt? Certainly, because salt was also offered! The connection with bedwetting is not so clear unless you are satisfied with the fact that salt is hygroscopic and can absorb quite a bit of moisture. Pacifiers and bracelets also serve as ex-voto. Lighting a novena candle or making thirteen laps around the chapel could also contribute to the success of the ritual.

But the pee chapel or diaper pee chapel, as it is called, is dedicated to Saint Anne, who was very popular in the Middle Ages as the mother of Mary and the grandmother of Jesus. Anne Harse, a nun from the nearby Abbey of Oriënten, had the chapel built in 1644 for her name saint. Until the 1980s, there was a procession from the village to the chapel on the days of the Ice Saints (May 12 and 13) to beseech a good harvest.

However, people did not fully trust the intentions of the visitors and the door was apparently locked. You could still offer by using an ingenious mechanism in the window next to the entrance.

It seems to be a good place for the saints here because when you peek through the broken panes, you see a colorful collection of saint figurines on the altar. One of them deserves a moment of attention. That is Saint Martin, the cannibal among the saints, a kind of Merckx who excelled in all disciplines. Here he is called upon against fever. It is said that he was afflicted by fever on his deathbed. Another story attributes to him the power to revive a youth who had died of fever. Fever was considered a separate affliction in the Middle Ages. No connection was made to any underlying cause such as an infection. The ritual that was used to cure fever involved offering an article of clothing belonging to the sick person to the patron saint. But textiles were expensive, so it switched to a red ribbon. This was used to touch the sick person. The ribbon was preferably tied secretly to the bars of one of the windows of the chapel. This was referred to as 'binding the fever'. Innocent passersby had to be cautious because by touching the ribbon, the fever could be transferred to them.

The chapel was always privately owned and in 1877 there was talk of a chapelle nouvelle construction, which would mean that it had been completely rebuilt. In 2004, the chapel was purchased by the municipality and in 2010-2011 it was beautifully restored.

Being in the middle of the fields, it is a pleasant place to reflect. And if it is difficult to get into a meditative mood, you can always find inspiration from one of the poems that are displayed on stainless steel plates on posts aligned in front of the chapel. You read poetry from local school poets or from local historians who surely wrote their verses with a sharpened plume. But you will also find a poem by the Hageland poetess Ina Stabergh. And Hageland you must take literally because wherever you go along Hageland's roads, you will encounter a poem by Ina. This writer and poetess, once the first female city poet of Flanders, delights, melts, and amazes passersby at many Hageland locations with her clear poetry. Sometimes, as is the case here, it is handy when you know something about the history of the place. On the other hand, if you know nothing about it, the poem can set you on a captivating quest to the past.

Jan Rymenams