A scary grandmother figure doling out advice and punishment feels like a familiar monster
to a lot of us.
Which could be why today’s monster originally from Russian and East Slavic folklore feels
so ubiquitous.
She’s been the subject of operas, comic book storylines, children’s books and cartoons,
and her own films—not to mention hundreds of years of folklore history.
May I present, Baba Yaga.
Today, she is most commonly depicted as an ugly, evil witch—but that wasn’t always
her story.
Baba Yaga was once more goddess than witch, who reigned over time, life, death, and the
elements.
She was associated with strong winds and dark forests, connected to the earth, the heavens,
and the underworld.
She straddles the boundary between life and death.
So which witch is it?
Elemental goddess?
Dark sorceress?
Terrifying granny?
Let’s find out!
[Monstrum intro.]
Associated with powerful magic and accused of cannibalism, she has immense powers over
animals, the elements, and even time.
Not all stories explicitly depict Baba Yaga as an ugly witch—but most Russians would.
She is portrayed as a tall, gaunt old woman: many tales reference her “bony leg,” which
might be severe thinness, or it might be a literal skeleton leg.
She has disheveled hair and a sometimes iron nose that is so long she can lie down on the
floor of her hut and it could touch the ceiling.
That large nose allows her to identify her visitors by scent, leading some folklorists
to argue that she’s actually blind.
The powerful Yaga always lives somewhere remote, usually in a deep forest.
Her home, while occasionally a grand mansion, is most often a hut supported by chicken legs,
goat legs, ram horns, or spindles, and is surrounded by a fence made from human bones
with the lock on her gate made from the sharp teeth of a human jaw—so you can see why
people think she might be a cannibal.
The hut is constantly spinning, and will only stop with the chant: “Little house, little
house.
Turn your back to the forest, your front to me.”
Baba Yaga’s possessions are just as mystical—and complex.
No flying broom for this witch: the Baba Yaga travels on a magical flying mortar, using
a pestle to urge it on, sweeping away the path of her flight... with a broom.
She owns enchanted mirrors that turn into lakes, combs that can transform into forests,
handkerchiefs that become rivers, a flying carpet, and fire-breathing horses.
Based on the etymology of her name, Baba Yaga probably dates back to at least the Medieval
period.
And there are literally thousands of Baba Yaga stories in Russian and Slavic folklore.
The first documented evidence of Baba emerges in woodblock prints from the late 17th century
and early 18th century indicating she was a known figure in their early oral traditions.
The first written mention of the Baba Yaga is in the 1755 notes of a Russian grammar
book penned by poet and scientist Mikhail [Mi-kha-il] V. Lomonosov [Luh-muh-noh-suf];
he referred to ‘Iaga Bab’a twice, including in a list comparing Roman gods with their
Slavic and Russian correspondents—although she is given no counterpart.
The first narrative account of the Baba Yaga is in Vasilii Levshin’s 1780 collection
Russian Fairy Tales, in which she is depicted as terrifying and dangerous, with teeth like
tusks and hands like bear claws.
Until the 19th century, Baba Yaga was a largely Eastern European monster, but she gained international
recognition when translations of Aleksandr Afanasyev’s
1855-1863 serial publications of 600 transcribed Russian folktales appeared in the 1870s.
His collection was styled like that of the famed Brothers Grimm, though the inclusion
of his sources and the places where he heard the stories lends greater scholarly legitimacy
to his work.
Later, a Russian illustrator used this collection to create some of the
most famous renderings of Russian folk characters—including this one of the Baba Yaga in 1899.
She can be altruistic, giving the protagonist of the story gifts or advice.
And even in the scariest stories, when she’s a child kidnapper, a warrior witch, or a cruel
trickster, the protagonist always escapes, and despite her iron teeth and associations
with cannibalism, no one in Baba Yaga stories is ever eaten.
Many Baba Yaga stories feature a young protagonist just entering into adulthood or marriage.
In one such story, a father gives his daughter to Baba Yaga as a servant.
The daughter completes her assigned chores perfectly, with the help of little mice.
Impressed by her work, Baba Yaga rewards the girl with beautiful clothing.
When the father checks to see if his daughter is alive, he is surprised to find her “very
rich.”
He takes her home, but her stepmother (of course there’s an evil stepmother) is jealous,
so she sends her own daughter to Baba Yaga—but this girl chases the mice with a rolling pin
and doesn’t do any of the work required of her so Baba Yaga breaks her into pieces
and puts her bones in a box.
Not exactly evil, not quite benevolent there Baba Yaga.
Then there’s one of the most beloved of Russian folktales--“Vasilisa the Beautiful.”
On her deathbed, a merchant’s wife gives a doll to their only daughter,Vasilisa, telling
her that she must always keep the doll with her.
If anything bad should happen to the girl, she is to give the doll food and ask its advice,
and the doll will help her.
Eventually, Vasilisa’s father remarries a widowed woman with daughters of her own;
and just like in the story of Cinderella, Vasilisa’s new stepmother and sisters are
far from kind, jealous of her goodness and her beauty.
They do all they can to diminish her allure with hard physical work.
To their dismay, Vasilisa grows healthier and more lovely, while the evil women grow
uglier from their spite.
But how does the girl flourish despite their cruel actions?
The doll.
Every night Vasilisa secretly feeds the dolls and asks its advice.
The doll comforts her and speaks wise words—and the next day it does all of the girl’s work
for her.
When it is time for Vasilisa to marry, all the bachelors pine for her hand, and the jealous
stepmother grows even more enraged.
She moves them all to a new home near the dense forest where Baba Yaga lives.
One night, Vasilisa and her stepsisters are working by candlelight when a stepsister purposefully
snuffs out the light
, and then instructs Vasilisa to go to Baba Yaga’s hut for a new flame.
Scared of being eaten by Baba Yaga, Vasilisa consults her doll.
The doll’s eyes glow and it says that as long as it is with her, she will be safe.
So Vasilisa sets off for Baba Yaga’s hut.
Once in the woods, she is approached in turns by three horsemen: first, a man dressed in
white atop a white steed and accompanied by daybreak; next, a man in red riding a red
horse blls that still have their eyes.
At that moment, a man clad in black, with an ebony stallion seeminehind whom the sun
rises.Vasilisa approaches a fence made of human bones topped with skug to beckon the
oncoming night sky disappears at Baba Yaga’s gate made of men’s legs.
The bolts are arms, and the lock is a mouth with sharp teeth.
The eyes in the skulls begin to shine, lighting the clearing as if it were day.
She has arrived at Baba Yaga’s hut.
Suddenly there is a horrible roar and the terrifying woman bursts out of the forest
[riding in her mortar].
Bravely, Vasilisa bows deeply, asking for a light as her stepsisters had instructed.
The Baba Yaga says she will give Vasilisa her light if she first does some work for
her—or she will eat her.
She gives Vasilisa a series of challenges: prepare a feast for 12, clean the courtyard
and house, prepare wheat, wash linen, and sweep.
Vasilisa feeds her doll and it does everything but prepare the feast.
Baba Yaga is surprised that someone can do the tasks, and do them well.
Satisfied that the girl has fulfilled her side of the bargain, she sends the girl home
with one of the skulls with blazing eyes.
Vasilisa returns to her stepmother and stepsisters bearing the skull like a candle, and they
gratefully receive her having been without fire for days.
But flames shoot from the skull’s eyes and burn them to cinders.
All except Vasilisa of course, who ends up weaving linen so fine she catches the eye
of the Tsar, eventually becoming his bride.
So Baba Yaga does have a heart, but you have to earn it.
The story demonstrates Baba Yaga’s power over Morning, Day, and Night—the three horsemen
Vasilisa had seen and whom the Baba Yaga commands.
It also gives us an idea of what purpose the Baba Yaga tales might serve.
You could argue that the experience teaches the female audience how to be a wife—to
cook, clean, and sew at another person’s command.
Not all of the Baba Yaga stories end in marriage, but they all show an encounter with the old
woman as an initiation from childhood into adult life.
Her tests and tasks for the protagonists assess their cleverness and worthiness as adults.
She plays a cultural role as domestic instructor, demonstrating to young women and men what
moving to a new household is like, and what tasks they need to master to become eligible
husbands and wives.
Here’s where we can further examine the origins of the name Baba Yaga.
Her name might even hint at her possible origins as a deity.
While there are variations, the word ‘baba’
originally referred to a married peasant woman of childbearing age or older, and in Old Russian
it was used for midwives, sorceresses, and fortune-tellers.
In modern usage, baba is a derogatory term designating a difficult old woman, which could
be connected to the image of the Baba Yaga.
In a few indigenous Eastern European languages, “baba’ is also the name for “pelican.”
Maybe that explains the Baba Yaga’s long, beaklike nose and her hut’s chicken legs.
‘Yaga’ is harder to pin down, and there isn’t a scholarly consensus on the word’s
etymology.
Some say it meant “horrible” or “horrifying” at one point, while others connect it to the
Russian verb meaning “to ride.”
Or we may find it’s origins in the early Latin for ‘snake’ [anguis).
But ‘Yaga’ is most commonly interpreted as “bába-witch,” “old granny witch”
or “evil baba.”
If we look at the variants of her name that use ‘iaga,’ there are more theories including
association with words for disease, illness (jeza/jedza), horror (jeza), or rage (iagat).
That said, many names for ancient Slavic deities have been lost over time, and this may be
the case for Baba Yaga.
Perhaps the moniker is a substitute for her original name that was once so sacred or feared
(likely both) that it could not be said aloud and is now lost to history.
Attempts to explain Baba Yaga in the 18th century actually make this association with
ancient Slavic deities as well, including early indications that she was a pagan goddess
After all, she is associated with supernatural powers and magical gifts and has power over
life and death…Godlike traits, no?
Except for that whole chicken footed hut deal.
But there might be a more rational explanation for the appearance of Baba Yaga’s house.
Nomadic hunters in Siberia built storehouses on top of tree stumps to deter animal foraging.
Structures like the Swedish Sami storehouse and British saddle stones are similar in form
and function, and may explain why Baba Yaga’s hut was on “chicken legs.”
And, as I always want to know, what was the most common burial practice in Neolithic Central
Europe?
Bodies were placed on wooden platforms raised up on poles so the corpses could dry out and
the bones preserved—which calls to mind depictions of Baba Yaga’s hut as well.
That certainly associates her with death, as do all those bones surrounding her home,
and well—the threatening to eat people.
The mortar and pestle that Baba Yaga uses to get around?
They were essential tools for the everyday tasks women were in charge of in Slavic culture,
like preparing food and grain, and making medicine.
A lot of folklorists argue that they have a sexual symbolism as well, but I’ll let
you Google that.
In modern depictions, Baba Yaga began to serve as a tool for Socialist propaganda.
The heroes and heroines in these Baba Yaga tales carryover from the folklore because
of problem solving, hard work, and courage they exhibit.
These were also traits the former Soviet Union desired its citizens to have and Baba Yaga
was a popular character on film and television.
But Baba Yaga found global recognition after the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, when
media produced there could be reached by other parts of the world.
And since then, the Baba Yaga appeared in the Hellboy comics and movies, television
shows like Lost Girl, The Magicians, Supernatural, and—Arthur?
She’s even in Fortnite.
Mother, bone-breaker, helper, goddess, witch—Baba Yaga is all of these things.
Telling stories was an essential part of life for the East Slavic and Russian peoples, whose
folklore was popular in all social classes; it was customary to tell skazka—folktales—at
feasts and weddings, as well as share them during times of work or rest at home.
And Baba Yaga was, and still is, one of the most popular characters.
As grandmotherly advisor or cannibalistic witch, pagan earth goddess Baba Yaga is a
paradox, which might be why she’s so fascinating—and even beloved.
I’m going to quote Andreas Johns, who wrote this incredibly thorough book
on Baba Yaga: “It is clear that there can be no single correct interpretation or understanding
of Baba Yaga.”
And there’s actually a great freedom in that.
Both for us as we conjure whichever version of Baba Yaga that suits us best, and for the
legendary woman and her own powerful potential.