I gave up working in law to become a make-up artist
Ravita Pannu dreamed of being a make-up artist but her mother and father told her running a make-up business was a man's job.
Ravita Pannu dreamed of being a make-up artist but her mother and father told her running a make-up business was a man's job.
Off he goes into the night, wearing a mask he carved himself, and joined, as he walks the village lanes, by other fearsome figures.
They may chase an unsuspecting tourist, and even rub the odd face into the snow, but the real purpose is to have some fun, and to keep a unique tradition alive.
Now is he ready to go out looking for a girl
"No, no," he laughs. "We're modern here like everywhere else."
His Tschäggättä dress ritual involves burlap trousers that stretch right over his shoes. In poor villages where everyone had only one pair, shoes were a key giveaway.
Inside a traditional Tschäggättä "Dorf Keller", 25-year-old Manuel Blötzer prepares for "Fat Thursday" himself.
The locations are often kept secret, but once inside, this building is a surprise.
"It was a moment when young unmarried people had a chance to meet," Thomas explains.
Thomas explains that whatever the original truth about the Tschäggättä, the tradition became deeply enmeshed in the life of the Church.
This was once one of the poorest regions of Switzerland, points out Adrian Schnyder of the local tourist board, and simple hunger could, he thinks, be at the root of the Tschäggättä legend.
A walk through the tiny Lötschental village of Kippel reveals more clues.
The origins of the Tschäggättä tradition remain shrouded in mystery, but the art of mask making is alive and well.
In his tiny workshop, Albert Ebener has been making masks for half a century. Today, as he carefully cuts and carves the wood, a terrifying face begins to emerge.