14
EESTI ELU reedel, 1. aprillil 2022 — Friday, April 1, 2022
Nr. 13
Commemorating the March Deportations of 1949 (and more) Erik Kõvamees, on behalf of the Society for the Advancement of Estonian Studies in Canada March of 2022 has been a sobering month. The Russian invasion of Ukraine, which began near the end of Feb ruary, on Estonian Indepen dence Day no less, is ongoing, and has stirred up memories of the past and/or fear of the future in many Estonians and people in general. The war in Ukraine has added a new dimension to commemorations of what are known as the March Bombings of Estonia. In the March of 1944 – on March 6th in Narva, on March 9th in Tallinn, and on March 26th and 27th in Tartu – the Soviets carried out a series of bombings that in the end amounted to nothing more than the destruction of Estonian culture and the genocide of the Estonian people. In Tallinn itself, it is estimated that just over 700 people (including somewhere around 550 civilians) were killed, about 450 people slightly injured, and slightly over 200 people seriously injured. Over 5000 buildings in Tallinn were affected in some way – whether completely destroyed or damaged to a greater or lesser extent – including ones centrally-important to Estonian cultural memory and heritage. And of course, 73 years ago, in 1949, the so-called March Deportations of nearly 20 000 people living in Estonia occurred, an indiscriminate herding of babies, grandparents, and everyone in-between, on the part of Soviet authorities. In 2019, President Kersti Kaljulaid gave a speech commemorating the 70th anniversary of the Deportations, which she introduced with a poem by Kalju Lepik. The poem is as follows: Magav maimuke kambrist kisti, taadi sülest kogunisti. Mulla alla taat magama – sinna kus viha valuvärvi, valu lume valget värvi. Risti ei kellegi haual. Rattad ruttasid raual. Kellele ma kaeban kurja, kurjale, et kargaks turja. The poem tells a story; the first “shot” is of a baby sleeping in her or his chamber, torn out of the arms of an old man, the grandfather. In the next “act,” the old man is dead and buried, killed and put underground, there where anger is the colour of pain and where pain is the colour of the white snow, and where there are no crosses marking graves. In the next “scene,” wheels are rattling over iron railways. The poem concludes with the narrator wondering about who they can
complain to about this evil, and if the figure who receives this complaint could possibly avenge the evil that has been carried out. What is noticeable about this poem is that it is intimate; it concerns very few actual actors, probably only those living in a single household. But over the course of the poem, the context widens, and this household becomes representative of a larger experience, perhaps the experience of all those households and all those individuals who were deported that day or night. The narrator of the poem also leaves a tragic impression: It seems like they are imagining the narrated scenario, which means that they are one of those individuals who have been left behind. And perhaps, as their mind wanders and they attempt to answer the questions they have posed, more questions develop: Who can be held responsible for this evil? Has the evil been perpetrated by evil itself? Will this evil eventually attack me? None of us will ever be able to fully understand the experiences of those who were bombed in 1944, deported in 1949, or invaded in 2022. The best we can do is commemorate, and for those who value human freedom and life, fight and hold the evil that Lepik mentions responsible. In commemorating, fighting, and demanding accountability, we can make it clear that evil has very-real perpetrators and perpetuators; we are fighting against not only the abstract notion of evil, but concrete evildoers, as well. In valuing human freedom and life, we can formulate the following ideal: Nobody gets left behind. For the moment, let the description of Lepik’s poem create an image or impression in your mind. Now, take this impression and multiply it by 20 000, by the experiences of all the human beings who got deported that March. Further, take this new impression and multiply it by the experiences of all those who – like the narrator in Lepik’s poem – did get left behind. And at this point, you may begin to realize that you are only scratching the surface of the consequences and the meanings which the March Deportations entailed, and still entail. In the end, all Estonians stand as the products of history, of March 1944, March 1949, March 2022, and many other slices of time. Alongside Latvians and Lithuanians – who were also subjected to the March Deportations – we are like travellers who have just exited our trains and poured out into a bustling station; we must now decide how to remember the compatriots we have left behind in time. As we stand,
Estonian exchange artists are here! The artists normally come in October, but this year’s artists Kärt Ojavee and Johanna Ulfsak are working now in the Mill Gallery space at the Cotton Factory to create a test piece for the main hall at the new International Esto nian Centre. Merike Koger has kindly lent them her loom and bought a warping board for them. By combining a variety of yarns with optical fibres, Kärt
and Johanna are working on a new piece that will react in real time to the weather on the Baltic Sea. In their words: “We were interested in creating a fabric capable of surpassing its own physical presence; to somehow connect the object with an outside world. Thus, the wavy textile is designed to gather information about events and changes happening on sea hundreds of kilometers away and to respond to them. When a
stronger gust of wind sweeps over the sea – the fabric reacts. When a wave rises with the storm, the fabric changes too.”
Local woman sees Ukrainian invasion through international lens
Russia and the Baltic Sea, she knows what it’s like to live in a country where many of the citizens are of Russian descent and speak Russian. This makes her sensitive to what Ukrainian Russians may be experiencing as they see soldiers speaking their language seeking to destroy their homes. “Most of the Russians living in Ukraine don’t want it,” Kiin said, explaining the invasion splits families. She believes Putin has invaded at this time both because he wants to rebuild the Soviet Union and because Ukraine is seeking to align itself with the West. “They want to be members of the European Union. They want to be members of NATO. That’s what Putin doesn’t want,” Kiin indicated. She explained that prior to what is known as the “Orange Revo lution” in 2004, a “puppet presi dent” held office in Ukraine. Following widespread protests, a closely monitored presidential election was held, which the pro-Russian candidate lost. Kiin believes Putin expected a “quick war” which would allow him to put an ally in office. In 2014, when Russia took Crimea, it was a fait accompli before the world was aware of Russia’s intent. Since that time, the situation in Ukraine has changed. “NATO has been helping the Ukrainian army become strong again,” she said, describing the country as weak in 2014. Kiin would like to see Putin held accountable for war crimes before an international court. But equally as important, she sees the humanitarian crisis that his actions have created. “This is the biggest refugee crisis since World War II,” she said. As of Sunday, news outlets were reporting 2.5 million refugees have left Ukraine since Russia
invaded in late February. “We have all been there. Many who are here today, their parents escaped Russian occupation,” Kiin continued, making reference to the Russian in vasion of her own country in June 1940. “We still suffer from a generational trauma,” she said. “We didn’t know how many years it would last.” The Republic of Estonia was not established until after the Soviet Union collapsed 50 years later. As recently as Thursday, The Associated Press reported that analysts indicate Estonia could be at risk again. As Kiin talks, she weaves personal narratives, historical information and reports coming out of Europe together as tears stream down her face. She recalls a man she met on a book tour in Moscow who was killed by Putin. She talks about her grandson and his Russian bride who cannot talk about the invasion. “I’m crying every day,” she admitted. Kiin encourages people to support the Ukrainian people by make donations to humanitarian organizations, con tacting congressmen to ask for their support in passing legislation which aids Ukraine, and by taking refugees.
Mary Gales Askren, Madison Daily Reporter, March 2022 Sirje Kiin, an Estonian writer married to Dakota State University professor Jack Walters, has seen Russian brutality before. In 2014, Russia invaded and annexed Crimea, previously part of Ukraine. “He had done this again and again and again,” Kiin said, her passionate outrage clear. Since the invasion, Kiin has been monitoring the news from numerous news agencies, not only in the U.S. but also in Estonia, Russia and Finland, where she used to teach at a university. She said Putin is telling the Russian people that Ukraine does not exist as a separate country. “Kyiv was a city when Moscow didn’t exist,” she said to refute “another lie” that Putin has told. Having grown up in a country one-quarter the size of South Dakota nestled between
travellers are also exiting a neighbouring train, and they are discussing how to support the compatriots they have left behind in space. The impression given by our new neighbours is both familiar and strange, because every time a co-traveller who has just exited the neighbouring train says to us Slava Ukraini!, we also somehow hear Elagu Eesti! in their words.
(https://www.k-o-i.ee/livestreams) Johanna and Kärt will also be working out of the Daniels Artscape Launchpad in Toronto for almost a week. They will be giving artists talk in Toronto and at the Art Gallery of Burlington.
