Once a year, the main street of Grenzgebiet was closed to wheeled traffic, such as trucks and carts, and the tall dolls atop their skilfully wielded stilts, would lead a parade through the town. Some of the dolls had faces as smooth and as white as porcelain, with kohled almond-shaped eyes and ridiculously long orange wigs. Others had their faces covered with leather balaclavas, their eyes and mouths suggested behind irregular gashes. On their heads they wore simple goggles. There were yellow raffia skirts and tall head-dresses made from fake palmfronds; and there were long cotton trousers and sequined capes. There was an inflatable doll sitting side-saddle on a smiling inflatable moon. The inflatable doll was always the crowd’s favourite. She was called Sybil Obedience, and for many years had represented the ideal of Productive Motherhood. On the day of the doll parade, the young woman with the most children, who at the same time had put in the most hours of paid labour, was given a small resin replica of the round-eyed pneumatic character.
