IN their ankle-length plaid skirts, shapeless blouses and headscarves, the women of the Bruderhof community look like peasants from a past age.
But this is not an Amish community in the US but a little-known group of radical Christians living on extensive rural land in a quiet village in Sussex.
Here, the 300-strong members have vowed to live the way they believe that Jesus wants us to, based on his teachings at the Sermon on the Mount.
There are no telephones, computers, mobile phones or video games. Instead children are encouraged to play in the fields, go camping in the woods and swimming in the lake.
Members have to relinquish all wealth and possessions before joining. But then, who needs money when houses, food and clothes are provided for?
However, permission is needed before you start 'courting' and followers must follow the strict rules, including that jobs are designated rather than chosen.
Oddly, while the women all dress alike in their archaic garb, the men wear contemporary clothes that would not attract a second glance walking down any high street.
Nearly all their food is grown in the extensive grounds. There is livestock, a laundry, a school…. and a high quality wooden children’s furniture and toys business that brings in £17 million a year.
Same sex relationships and divorce are forbidden but, while they hold radical Christian views, they are no cult and members are free to come and go as they wish.
Children who grow up in the compound are encouraged to leave at 18 and spend a year exploring the world outside before deciding if they want to commit to the lifestyle.
The Bruderhof started in Germany almost a century ago and spread to Britain, the US, Germany, Australia and Paraguay.
The Darvell community in Robertsbridge, Sussex, was established in 1971 but it is only now that TV cameras have been allowed in to the compound.
The result is a fascinating BBC1 documentary Inside the Bruderhof which airs on Thursday.
Sun reporter Jim Maloney was invited to spend a day with them to experience their lifestyle and to talk freely to members.
Driving through the village, the community is clearly sign-posted ‘Darvell’ and a long path leads through pleasant greenery to the main house, which was a former TB hospital.
But any perception of student-like cramped accommodation is wide of the mark. Houses have been built throughout the extensive land and, while families often share, each has their own living space for "family time".
Bernard, 38, who acts as the community’s PR person, and his wife, Rachel, welcome me warmly and are keen to show visitors around.
“The Bruderhof works because everyone here has given up absolutely everything for Christ,” he explains.
“If people are looking for a different way of life then a different way of life is possible and anyone is welcome to join us."
'Peasant' clothes hide female figures and discourage attention from the opposite sex
Bernard’s family, originally from Farnborough in Hampshire, first came across the Bruderhof when he was four years old after “sticking a pin in a map” to decide where to go on holiday and ending up near Robertsbridge.
On their way to visit Rudyard Kipling’s house, they spotted the sign to Darvell and decided to drive in.
“Something just struck my parents, right there and then," he adds. "Here was a way that Christians were trying to live out what it says in the New Testament in a way that maybe the old church doesn’t.
“They saw people loving and supporting each other, sharing their possessions. It was an holistic way of life.”
After spending some time living with the Bruderhof, Bernard’s parents decided to sell up and join the community when he was nine years old.
It was at the Bruderhof that Bernard met Rachel. They have three children, Esther, 14, Michael, 12 and Jonathan, five.
Their life seems idyllic. But the women’s clothing, likened to “peasants in the 1920s” looks out of place in the modern world.
"We don't want anything slinky that will show your figure,” explains one woman in the documentary. “We should not try and attract attention to ourselves, especially not to the opposite sex. And be modest.'
For Rachel, the dress is a convenience.
“It’s about having a simple, modest costume that’s practical that I can put on every day, where I don’t have to dedicate a lot of thought and time to whether it’s in keeping with the latest fashion,” she says. “I am not here to stand out and do my own thing.”
Bernard feels that there is too much focus on women’s fashion in the outside world.
“It's because that's where fashion makes its money,” he says. “It’s ever changing and that’s what makes our women here look outdated."
Softball and swimming replace phones and TV
In another throwback back to a bygone era, the division of labour is along gender lines, with women taking traditional jobs such as cooking, cleaning, sewing and laundry while men work the land, but both work in all areas of the factory, from the design and sales department to the work floor.
“People often come to the Bruderhof and they see a certain gender segregation in our work and they want to ask about it," says Bernard. "But, to us, no one is being paid and it’s really not a big deal which jobs men do and which jobs women do.”
Strolling through the grounds, the absence of electronic devices is noticeable – particularly among the kids and teenagers.
Down in the field, children of all ages are happily playing softball with the grown-ups and Bernard points out a former swamp that they dug out and turned into a large pond for swimming.
As they mix with outsiders the children are aware of what other kids have but Esther, 13, says they don’t mind.
She acknowledges other teenagers, “would probably be on their phone all the time or watching telly. But we don't have those things.”
But she adds: “I don't think I miss them because I've never had them, so I don't know what to miss.”
Bernard’s son, Michael, looks after the pigs and calls the piglets out of the enclosure with a rattle of some food in a bucket, to show me.
There is other work to do, of course. In a huge kitchen some of the women are busy making lunch, which is taken communally in a large hall, seated at row after row of long tables. Here, we dine, after saying grace, on delicious seasoned chicken with rice, broccoli and gravy.
Everyone joins in with singing hymns before and afterwards and there is a tradition that whoever is celebrating a birthday receives a generous helping of ice-cream.
Millions made from toy factory with 90-year-old workers
Peasant-garb aside, perhaps the biggest eye-opener is a large, on-site factory where they make high end wooden furniture and toys with its own design and sales team. Surprisingly, the equipment is cutting edge, and includes an impressive machine that creates moulds for the plastic trimmings. It brings in between £17m and £18 million a year.
“When we design a product it is done so that anyone can assemble it and so there are jobs for those who have lower abilities or are very old,” says Bernard. “It means that people don’t retire. We have people who are 90 who still come and put in an hour of work and they feel fulfilled.”
There is a similar factory in America. Profits are shared and used to sustain their lifestyle and the rest goes to good causes, financing their humanitarian work abroad, helping victims of famine, natural disasters, war and violence.
This is not a community that shuts itself away. The local village is used to seeing them in their midst.
“We do some great projects in the village,” says Bernard. “The local high school wanted a garden for the kids to work in so we helped to both finance and build it.
"We do a barbecue for the village fete and at Christmas and we also have ‘open days’ where 300 people turn up and enjoy our animals and eat our burgers and play with the kids. It’s a family fun day.”
'Imagine someone from the middle ages turning up in London'
Despite their lack of worldly ways, kids are not expected to automatically commit to their parents' lifestyle. Instead, all 18-year-old's spend a year outside to decide where their future lies.
The documentary follows Hannah, as she experiences a very different life in London, finding work and handling money, budgeting and shopping for the first time.
“You can only become a member of the Bruderhof at 21 and now that I'm 18 I'm thinking about it because joining the community would be a lifelong commitment,” she says.
“As an adult I have to decide where I want to go with my life. At this point the Bruderhof is basically all I have known. I need to know what my other options are.”
Having never been outside the community Hannah, who is sent to a Bruderhof halfway house in Peckham, struggles with the noisy, overpopulated streets of London and is aware her clothing makes her stick out like a sore thumb.
“Imagine that someone from the Middle Ages shows up in London and stays in those clothes and that way of life,” she says. “I feel like a foreigner. I feel I am from a different way of living.”
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Around a third of teenagers opt not to return to Darvell, which Bernard says is “healthy”, but Hannah is keen to return to the simple life after experiencing the polar opposite in London.
She says: “Seeing the emptiness in people’s lives and how massive the society is I have realised the value in community, the joy of committing your life to something bigger than yourself. It makes you happy.
“My heart is telling me to finish this year off and get my butt back to Darvell."
Inside the Bruderhof airs on BBC1 at 10.35 on Thursday.
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