Living in Estonia: family memories

You can learn a lot about the history of Estonia by reading books and visiting museums, but you will never get the same perception as when someone tells you about their lives and experience. Even though the average Estonian remains, from my perspective, quiet and "minimalist" - i.e. he only says what is strictly necessary, often even less than that -, if you are patient and if you ask the right questions you may find out what you are looking for.  There are also a few spontaneously talkative individuals around. In Katri's family, for example, you have a bit of everything. With me, of course, it also depends how comfortable they are talking in English.

Our parents' childhood

In the second half of September, we are invited to celebrate the birthday of the youngest of Katri's aunts on her father side. I understand that the family tradition is to gather at the graveyard where the grandparents are buried, in a small village in central Estonia. We went by this graveyard three years ago already, during my first holiday of Estonia. In both occasions, Katri pointed out how pleasant, green and spacious the graveyard was. It is surrounded by a lovely lake and forests. She highlighted the contrast with some form of graves we once saw in Italy - a wall where hundreds of square tombs with a marble plate are located next to each other over tens of meters wide and a few meters high...

The view from the graveyard church:  on the other side of the lake, the public beach

After cleaning the grandparents tomb and decorating it with new plants and candles, we take a few pictures. I also get to see the family photo album. The grandmother had eight sisters and brothers, and she was a passionate gardener. The grandfather was an electrician. Then the family walks around the graveyard. And remembers a series of friends and known individuals, among which their favorite school teacher. One of the graves has a large space and a statue: Johann Köler. He is one of the most famous painters in Estonia, mostly known for his portraits. He studied at the academy of Saint Petersburg. Later, I could see some of his art at KUMU, the art museum in Kadriorg (Tallinn).

A painting by Johann Köler exposed in the KUMU gallery

After that, we are led to some of the significant places such as the local school. Life was different in the 1950s; the local kids aged 5 and up used to bike several kilometres to reach the residential school. During snowy winter, parents picked them up with a sledge carried by horses. The kids seemed to like it! Oh, and they liked even more that, when there was too much snow, the school was canceled.  Now, "too much snow" in Estonia should be interpreted as "a lot, a lot, of snow".

Summer houses and Soviet city blocks

After this pilgrimage, we are all invited to the summer house of the celebrated aunt for a typical Estonian countryside meal: pork, own-grown vegetables and potatoes. And coffee and cake. Since it is in season, it was impossible to go home without a load of carrots, zucchini and pumpkins.

The manor house where there is also a local school

Two weeks later, we are invited by the other aunt to her city apartment in Mustamäe. Mustamaë is the oldest of the three neighbourhoods built during Soviet times, between the late 1960s and the early 1980s, and characterised by large apartment blocks. As I said in another post, these blocks were attractive back then because, contrarily to most existing houses, they were equipped with "all the modern facilities": individual bathroom, warm water, district heating, and lots of nearby services (schools, shops, medical care).

Site of an old mill, now tourism infrastructure

On the other hand, the quality of the construction was not terrific. Inexperienced builders were given a quick training before they were given the job. Contrarily to Russia, where most families were given an apartment by the state for no fee, in Estonia, families had to pay ahead - before the construction of the house. And sometimes, things didn't go according to plan, whether because the builders were inexperienced or lazy, it is difficult to tell. Katri's aunt told us that their floor (the third out of seven) was made one brick shorter than the other floors (probably by mistake) and they were unable to fit the bookshelf they had ordered. The ceiling being 6 cm lower than expected, they finally had to leave out the bottom part  of the shelf. Insulation was often poorly performed (with respect to both sound and temperature) and it was not rare to have holes between the windows (usually quite big in these blocks) and the walls from construction. The flats were of different sizes but all with similar features, large windows, small rooms, isolated kitchen. 

Art and wine

You might be surprised, but I was enthusiastic about this invite to Mustamäe. I had never seen an apartment from the Soviet style neighbourhoods from the inside. Katri grew up herself in Lasnamäe, a more recent neighbourhood made up of Soviet blocks too, but I never got to see how Soviet blocks were from the inside.

The "dancing vegetables around wine carafe"

Katri warned me beforehand: it would most probably be more a "vernissage" than a lunch. Katri's aunt and uncle are now retired. Her aunt has started oil painting two years ago and has expressed a great talent. She paints stills, landscapes and even a couple of portraits, with a surprisingly ease for someone who started in her sixties... She showed us her collection while we were drinking wine and offered finger food. I particularly like (if you read my previous posts, you won't be surprised) her paintings of the bogs of Soomaa but also her stills with pumpkins. And once again, we didn't go home with empty hands: we were invited to pick a painting to decorate our home. We choose a nature morte (still) that we called "dancing vegetables around wine carafe". It fits marvellously to our kitchen. 

German and Russian heritage

While we were having a talk around wine and finger food, I was surprised to notice that the uncle had put on a German radio playing schlager music only. I couldn't help but ask if they understood or spoke German. That was not the reason, he simply liked the joyful tone of German schlager. And no, he didn't understand German. 

Before asking the question, a few thoughts were on my mind. They were inspired by my recent lectures and learnings (among other things, I attended on Wednesday night a conference in French about the different perspectives of France and Estonia following the First World War) and I just restitute them without any deeper investigation. Estonia has been certainly influenced by German culture at different points in time. During the Russian Empire, the nobility was made of German Balts, with very German sounding names. In the 20th century, Estonia was also occupied by Germany a couple of times, even if shortly: after the first world war and in the middle of the second world war, before being chased by Russians. These reflections made me think that - although there was little explicit sign of German culture around - German schlager was not completely out of place. 

When having a conversation with Estonians from the previous generation, it often happens to shift   towards Soviet times, when "we had lots of money but there was nothing to buy, whereas after the independence there were plenty of goods available but we were unable to afford them". Among the saddest memories, deportations to Siberia in the years following the war. Many families have had family members deported, some died there, some managed to return at some point.

The view from the school: in the distance, the mill where the grandfather started to practice as an electrician

I believe that many Estonians use without difference (voluntarily or not) the word "Soviet" and "Russian"... I have decided (personal decision, based on my limited knowledge and my own perception) to use "Soviet" when talking about the communist era and regime, and all its related horror. However, talking to older people it is evident how deep and alive is the wound created by Soviet occupation. 

Just to quote someone born just after the second world war "Our generation has gone through a lot of contrasts, probably too much for one single human".