Brennessel

One of those curious German words that I’d hear growing up alongside Wanzen, (the dreaded bedbugs of Mom’s gulag days), and Quasselwasser (a type of drinking water that made little girls chitchat too much) was Brennessel.

Skalle-Per Hedenhös

Mom and her sisters or other women with similar immigrant and refugee backgrounds from the church would reminisce about ‘Brennessel.”  They talked about Brennessel soup, tea, salad or using it as an ointment.  They talked about Brennessel as if they loved it and as if they hated it.  Brennessel belonged ‘over there,’ in the faraway, dark and gloomy past.

Lo and behold, ‘Brennessel’ has an English translation. Of course! It’s the stinging nettle and it’s sold in health food stores as a nutritional superfood and as a possible tonic for arthritis. An interesting side effect of consuming brennessel is that it’s been known to cause miscarriages. That’s a useful bit of trivia for my writer-brain.  

I’m working on a novel set in East Prussia at the end of the war. My characters are hungry. It’s April and they’re in the woods trying to avoid the Red Army. What will they find to eat? Brennessel, of course... along with some mushrooms. Haven’t looked into those yet. But I’m encouraged by the fact that East Prussia and rural Manitoba share many plant species and have a similar climate. So, like my characters, I’ll be in these early spring woods foraging for edibles.  At least I don’t have to dodge enemy bullets, or drunk rapists while I meander. 

Cycling through the Kaliningrad region back in 2019, we passed fields of stinging nettles. I’m so grateful that we kept going. Grateful that we had no need to rely on wild brennessel for food, to end unwanted pregnancies, or to soothing our aching muscles … unlike my aunts, cousins and mom did almost eighty years ago. 

I found comfort in seeing the wild brennessel ... a confirmation to my mom's stories.