It’s the Ducasse de Mons, a UNESCO-listed folk festival held every year on Trinity weekend in Mons. Everyone just calls it “the Doudou.” (Kimberly Kephart Travels)
The dragon’s tail came whipping out over the crowd like a loose fire hose, and a hundred hands lunged for it at once. Reader, I was not one of them. My husband and I had stationed ourselves at the very back of Grand-Place, strategically as far from that heaving scrum as a person can stand and still claim to have attended. Even from the cheap seats, it was a lot. The long strand of horsehair on that tail is supposed to be worth a year of good luck, and people wanted them badly: badly enough to climb over one another for a single hair. Every time someone surfaced clutching one, a roar rolled back through the square like a wave.
“This was my first Doudou, and I had wildly, almost impressively underestimated it. ”
— Kimberly Kephart
Officially, it’s the Ducasse de Mons, a UNESCO-listed folk festival held every year on Trinity weekend in Mons, the Hainaut capital, about 20 minutes away from SHAPE and Chièvres Air Base.
Everyone just calls it “the Doudou,” which is also the name of the brass-heavy tune that loops all weekend until it has fully moved into your skull and started paying rent. Across the span of a week, the Doudou is a solemn religious procession, a medieval street carnival and a roaring open-air spectacle, and it’s one of the oldest living traditions in Belgium.
Sunday morning belongs to the Car d’Or, a 17th-century golden coach that carries the relics through town, pulled by a team of powerful draft horses. (Anibal Trejo (Adobe Stock))
Source
As the story goes, the plague reached Mons in 1349, and the townspeople carried the relics of Sainte Waudru, the city’s patron saint, through the streets as a desperate plea for deliverance. The city was spared. Whether you credit the saints or sheer good fortune, Mons has honored that moment every single year since 1352, a devotion I found genuinely moving.
The festival starts on Saturday night when the gilded shrine is lowered from the Collegiate Church of Sainte-Waudru by torchlight to a hush so completely you almost hold your breath. Sunday morning belongs to the Car d’Or, a 17th-century golden coach that carries the relics through town, pulled by a team of powerful draft horses. It culminates in one breathtaking moment: the coach has to climb the steep, cobbled Rampe Sainte-Waudru back up to the church in a single unbroken push. If it stalls, the legend says misfortune follows for the whole city.
I would later learn that the climb famously stalled in 1914 and again in 1940, on the eve of each world war, and the festival itself has paused only a handful of times in nearly seven centuries. So, when six straining horses and hundreds of ordinary people throw their full weight behind that sacred wagon, the emotion is real. I watched neighbors of every age push with everything they had because in Mons, the year really does feel like it’s riding on it.
By the time it ended, the Grand-Place had melted into one big, happy sing-along: people arm in arm, and shoes kicked off...seriously, people were losing their shoes! (Anibal Trejo (Adobe Stock))
Source
Then comes the Lumeçon, and the whole city comes alive. At 12:30 p.m. in the packed Grand-Place, Saint George rides in on horseback to battle a 30-foot dragon carried by a team of men in white and surrounded by costumed devils who sweep through the crowd swinging inflated bladders. The dragon arcs its tail out over the spectators again, trailing the good-luck horsehair everyone is hoping to catch, while the Doudou tune plays on a loop and the square roars. Playing Saint George is a true honor here: Every year, a born-and-raised Montois competes for the role! After several dramatic near-misses, George finally slays the dragon and square erupts.
What no one warned me about was the joyful afterglow. By the time it ended, the Grand-Place had melted into one big, happy sing-along: people arm in arm, and shoes kicked off...seriously, people were losing their shoes!
As my husband and I left, Saint George himself came riding past us down a side street, still in costume, and a little cluster of people broke into applause. He was having the time of his life, and it was impossible not to smile!
Here’s something the festival itself doesn’t have time to tell you, and I recommend you, as a visitor or maybe a newcomer to Mons, stop by the Collegiate Church of Sainte-Waudru. It’s here that I lucked out and got a free tour led by a volunteer who took the time to explain why this festival happens.
The Collegiate Church of Sainte Waudru was led by a noble chapter of canonesses instead of a bishop, which is why Mons has no cathedral at all. The Car d’Or rests inside when it isn’t in the streets, closer than you’ll ever get during the Lumeçon. Sainte Waudru’s reliquary is here too, along with the saint’s own seventh-century ring and a jeweled clasp in the treasury. That’s why the festival all starts at the church and the car d’ or is a sight to behold.
The Doudou Festival falls on Trinity weekend in late May or early June. Everything centers around the Grand Place and is free to watch. You’ll want to arrive well before noon for a good view of the Lumeçon.
If big crowds aren’t your thing, or you’re traveling with little ones, the Petit Lumeçon offers a children’s version of the battle the following Sunday, with a lighter touch, but I’ve heard it can also get crazy. You can also take the time to visit the Collegiate Church of Sainte Waudru, which is open daily from roughly 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. and is free to enter. This is where you can admire the golden coach and relics in Peace.
The Doudou museum is also a good choice to visit. It is open Tuesday to Sunday, €9 and free on the first Sunday of the month as it tells the story through interactive screens and large projections and makes a wonderful primer on why this city pours its whole heart into the Doudou each spring.
I still don’t have a single strand of that dragon’s tail. But the song is somehow still in my head, I’ve already circled next May on my calendar, and next time, I might even venture a little closer to the front.
In 2027, the Doudou takes place on May 23.
Playing Saint George is a true honor here: Every year, a born-and-raised Montois competes for the role! (Kimberly Kephart Travels)
Kimberly Kephart is a freelance travel writer and military spouse who has spent more than eight years living abroad across Poland, South Korea, and Italy, and is now based near Mons, Belgium. She helps the military community, especially solo female travelers and hikers, see more of where they live by sharing her stories on Kimberly Kephart Travels and on Instagram @kimberlykepharttravels.
Editor’s Note: This article was written by a member of the local military community, not an employee of Stars and Stripes. Neither the organization nor the content is being represented by Stars and Stripes or the Department of War.
