It never hurts to ask — Keeping Company

During the first Covid confinement I was asked to write an article about the trucks and tractors of Zirkus Fahraway. After spending some time on it, I realized I wanted it to have more in it than just trucks and tractors. The article never made it into the intended magazine, but I thought it a pity to not share it.
It was so nice to take a walk down memory lane of the past three summers spent with Zirkus Fahraway. So this is my little homage to Zirkus Fahraway, coming to you, pulled behind a Swiss tractor.

There are seldom any problems when you are with Zirkus Fahraway. One is foreign to feelings of defeat, and familiar with ones of successfully jumpstarting dead batteries. When I am working with them I have the feeling that no matter what the situation is we will always be able to figure it out. A feeling akin to the invincibility you have as a child.

Five years ago, I struck up a conversation with the Zirkus Fahraway gang around their fire pit (made from the sawed off end of a huge propane tank), and was pulled in by the love, creativity and attention to detail that was put into their project. I expressed my interest in who they were and how I would like to become a part of their crew. The Basel-based family called me up six months later to join them in their next creation, underlining the importance of “it never hurts to ask”.

Zirkus Fahraway was started by four friends who worked in a circus together. Their skill and unharnessed creativity founded a circus filled with play and found objects, stemming from honest hearts rooted in reality. Nina created her unexpected trapeze style in the many nooks and crannies of Toulouse. Hardcore recycler who loves sausages, she anchors herself with her hands in the dirt. Nina’s partner, Valentin, is a metal worker by trade turned circus artist. He was told by his French teacher that he would probably learn much more French repairing a Citroen than in her French class. He now speaks French fluently. Solvejg, up at the crack of dawn to hike any nearby mountain, spins her diablo with peaceful determination. Her brother, Donath, hums Delta blues that inspire the old gas can guitars he creates. Helpless romantic at heart, he brings fairytales to life with his woodwork creations, be it a sauna on wheels or toys for his children.

The Swiss tractor feels very much at home on the backroads of its countryside. Its tiny structure impressively pulls two five-tone caravans. On one of the transports, the back wheel started coming loose, almost falling off. As we were wondering what to do next, a washing machine repair man, who happened to live nearby, had the exact huge wrench that was needed. All ended well, although our clothes were still dirty as the caravans settled in for the night. These bohemian homes serve as part advertisement that the circus has come to town and part nesting cocoons as we travel around the country. Our transportable homes are an integral part of the setting, the circle of caravans outlining the performance space inviting you into the circus’ reality.

The caravans can sometimes be home to more than just us. On one site, we set up right next to a large pen of chickens. The chickens would sometimes escape their pen and come lay eggs on the front porches of our caravans or in our kitchen wagon. We thought we had found all the eggs but there were always a few that we missed. Weeks after leaving the chickens, we kept finding surprise eggs hidden here and there. They were not so useful for making crepe batter but always put a smile on our faces.

Swiss fun fact : there is a law that states that if you are a farmer, or a circus, or a farmer in a circus or any of these combinations, you are allowed to pull two caravans or trailers with a tractor as long as you drive under 30 mph. No driver’s license needed.

Fruit stop somewhere on our way back from Austria

There are, however, spaces made for the unexpected amidst all the hard-work. During our breaks on the drive from Dresden to Basel, Valentin would take a quick 10 minute nap, while I stretched my legs. As I’d get back to the truck, a freshly awoken Val would jump out and do a one minute handstand to get his blood flowing to the other end of his body. Then we would get back on the road. On the return to Basel, we found ourselves stopped by the authorities for having 30 pounds of one and two euro coins in a heavy briefcase. We had to explain this is usual cargo for street performers. Despite the hassle, the other truck drivers looked out for us checking in to see if everything was ok with the authorities. It all worked out in the end with our charming smiles and Val’s crazy handstands.

Last but not least in our truck family is the beloved Unimog, sadly only with us for one summer. It failed to pass the rigorous (rustless) Swiss technical check, since Europe doesn’t have the “you only need headlights, indicators and a license plate to be street legal” rules. The sweet feature of the Unimog was a crane on the back, that we hoped to use to load and unload the Saurer. In the end, this elaborate operation proved to be less time efficient and much more dangerous than using the lift of the truck. We still took our trusty Unimog to use as a tractor, with Donath driving it insanely fast while pulling two caravans. You just cross your fingers that he doesn’t have to stop in a hurry.

On the topic of stopping quickly, if Valentin spots a nice fruit tree in a field or next to the road, he will not hesitate to slam on the breaks and pull the Saurer over at the next possible moment. We then would jump the fence and grab some cherries to munch on or apples to make apple sauce for the crepes we will be selling after our circus show.

And of course, unique characters require unique modes of transportation. Over the years with numerous shows and building their circus family, they have acquired an entourage of truly extraordinary vehicles. ‘’The Landi’’, short for Land Rover, is my favorite to drive. It is always breaking down, no lights in the dials, only the high beams work, and sometimes the knob of the gear shifter comes off in your hand to remind you that you have no control in this world and that chaos is the constant ingredient of life. Two summers ago, the emergency brake stopped working and in the process of repairing it, the Landi rolled down a hill, almost into someone’s living room in the hopes of joining them for tea. The Landi similarly likes rolling down hills as we push it to get it going, when the starter breaks, and tapping it with a wrench no longer gets it running. Good ol’ British engineering.

Solvejg and Nina always ready for a tractor transport.

Next up is the Saurer truck, a collaboration of Swiss and French engineering. The feeling of riding in this beautiful creation is an all sensory experience. There are no seat belts, so you can sit however or wherever you like. The clutch is powered by an air system and you have to double clutch all 14 gears, which can be beautiful to bear witness to. I recently was riding in the Saurer and it dawned on me that still, at age 27, riding in big old trucks makes me really happy. Looks like things haven’t changed much since I was 5 years old.  

The Saurer Truck is the one we load most of our material into. Our hard-working group turns the loading of the truck into a language of its own, anticipating your partner’s next thought. Being in the right spot when someone needs an extra hand or ratchet strap instills a camaraderie and trust with few words spoken.

Each night after our performance has finished, we pass through the audience connecting with people through nods of approval, congratulations and tips put in the hat. As the warm summer night sets in, crepes, beers, and soda are sold at the bar wagon. People break off into groups to talk, eat, and drink. The sound of old time jazz fills the evening air and our stage turns into a small social dance floor.

With Zirkus Fahraway, it’s not about making the most money or doing as many shows as possible. It’s about the whole experience, the transports on the beautiful back roads of Switzerland, performing in small towns way up the mountains, making and eating crepes after the show. As you take your bow, there is an understanding that the performance is just a small part of a much larger happening.

Some people come to look at the tractors and trucks, some people come to see the show, others come to experience something that has been made by people who truly love what they do and want to share it with others. There is something for everyone when Zirkus Fahraway comes to town.  

Written by : Ezra Weill 
Edited by : Sofia Tula coucouzeli Moreira, Betsy Weill