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EESTI ELU reedel, 17. aprillil 2020 — Friday, April 17, 2020
ESTONIAN CULTURE LINKS by Vincent Teetsov
We’re Listening: “Mind nad kätte ei saa! / They Won’t Catch Me!” by Curly Strings Between March 25th and March 28th, 1949, over 20,000 Estonians and around 70,000 Latvians and Lithuanians were taken from their homes, schools, and places of work and deported to Siberia. Taken away from their families and their futures. This event is known as the Märtsiküüditamine (March De portation). But one young man, Aksel Herbert Lindal, was able to es cape. Curly Strings’ singer and fiddle player Eeva Talsi has a personal connection to this, be cause Aksel was her grand father. On March 25th, Curly Strings published the video for their moving song “Mind nad kätte ei saa!” (“They Won’t Catch Me!”), about Talsi’s grandfather’s story. The main melody flutters very gently from the beginning, despite the terrifying circum stances surrounding the song. Eeva Talsi’s characteristic vocal timbre, Jaan Jaago’s bright gui tar harmonics, and the springy woody tone of Villu Talsi’s mandolin-playing soothes the listener as they hear of the young man’s memories of his family farm. Approaching the mill where he grinds the rye and oats they grow, he remi nisces about listening to “akor dionmäng ja naabrineidude naer” (“last night’s squeezebox tunes ... and the laughs of the neighbour girls”). He is happy
in this home of his, comfortable in its familiarity and the mo ments he shares with his loved ones. But by the time we hear of his memories, we are sharply reminded that this is not another day on the farm. He heads to wards the mill, fearing for his life and that of his family. A man from his village told him that “su ema ja vend on Siberi teel / kodus püssimehed oota mas sind” (“Your mother and brother are Siberia-bound /... riflemen await you at home”). When listeners reach the rousing refrain of the song, we come to find that this man, Eeva’s grandfather, is talking to a horse who is dear to him (“mu hobuke hea”). He must act quickly in the moment, so that he is not captured. He sends this equine companion of his back to the homestead, along with the last of the barley and oats he would grind at the mill. He knows that the horse will find its way back, and he’s determined that no one will catch him (as in the title, “mind nad kätte ei saa”). And no one did catch him. We’re not told what happened to Aksel after this delicate, frightening moment, but we sit in his mind and hear of what he fears. He is afraid of losing those precious memories he re counted on the way to the mill. He’s afraid of what will happen to his family, of the music ceas
Humour:
Emotional distancing by joking Folklorist Alan Dundes of the University of California, Ber keley was a master at explain ing why people react the way they do to unexpected circum stances, unpleasantness, stress and anxiety. Most often with humour, even of the gallows variety. Alas, decades ago I loaned – yes, not lent, that is a period of solemn religious observance when a Christian fasts or observes what he/she eats (wait a minute, that is April 2020 in reality, nothing on the shelves in places) – Dundes’ wonderful book “Cracking Jokes” to someone. Could not have been a friend, as I have not seen it since, and do not remember to whom the loan was generously profferred. All of his books, by the bye, are worth reading. Depending on where you live, physical distancing may not be a challenge. Those with backyards and parks nearby can get their sunshine, exercise and
Vitamin D. Pity the downtown high-rise dwellers. Yet emotional and intellectual distancing is tougher to achieve. Enter humour. Dundes analyzed why hu mankind reverts to black humour during times of unease and crisis. For example, the nu merous jokes created during and after the Roe vs. Wade court case, allowing a woman the right to choose to terminate her pregnancy, her body after all, set the stage for the still current extremely polarized abortion debate. Grisly jokes to cope with an issue that many did not comprehend soon made the rounds. Those that I remem ber are not suitable for a family newspaper. Another category was genocide. The jokes that emerged after the extent of the Holocaust became known are often truly tasteless. But Dun des argues that is how humanity, or a part of it, deals with the mind-boggling, the uncom
ing, and of a cold and empty house with an untended and overgrown path. Against all odds, Aksel was able to escape a future of cold, forced labour, and starvation in Siberia. His deportation record, as with all others who escaped this deportation, would be erased permanently. He escaped with his life and the potential to start fresh. But as the lyrics suggest (written by Kristiina Ehin and Ly Seppel-Ehin, translated into English by Adam Cullen) nothing would ever be the same again. Life would be carried out with the harsh realities of col lectivization in place. For people like Aksel, livestock such as his horse would have been taken away by force. Anecdotes from our friends and family would suggest that some people sneaked out at night to go secretly feed their farm animals. The video for this song captures moments of delight surrounded by loss, from the perspective of a little boy. This choice of perspective is particu larly hard-hitting considering how a large percentage of those
deported were children. The cinematography is sensi tive and subtle. There are only indications of trouble, as it might be remembered or seen by a child. We see events un fold as through the eyes of a child as if they were covered by a parent, or if they were seen through the space between a door. There are men in dark coats approaching the house, presumably secret police, and the silhouette of a Soviet soldier. Just as in the beginning of the song, however, we are taken back to better times, with those nightmares morphed into a memory of a warm, glowy dinner at home with family, just before the symbolic grey gloom snaps it all away. Sonically-speaking, there is a tenderness in Curly Strings’ de livery, that is both respectful to the memory of the song’s sub ject, but also reflective of the peace that was once enjoyed by all of the Estonians who were deported. With Curly Strings, you can usually expect one side of a spectrum or another. This spec trum goes from sweet solemnity
fortable. The folklorist had no problem with including exam ples in his book as proof. Quadriplegic and amputee jokes made the rounds when those poor souls were being introduced into society as a means of saying – this is life. Stuff happens. Gruesome, yes. But the very act of laughing is a defence mechanism. An attempt to deflect reality. There is no other explanation for the pre ponderance of such “jokes” during times difficult to com prehend, much less to cope with. The folklorist also addressed the humour of various nationali ties. Estonians are a stoic, hard-working people. Who for centuries, up to the present relied on humour as a stress releaser. Our islanders especially are known for straight-faced seriously real wit. We are not alone in this regard. Allow me to recall one German example from Dundes’ book, one that I have used since the book appeared in 1989. Unsere Leben is wie eine Kühnestalleleiter. Kurz un scheissig (Our life is
like a chicken coop ladder. Short and shitty). Which brings us to the taboo topic – death. We use euphe misms, hardly ever joke about it. Estonians “put their ears under their head”. Or hang their spoon on a hook, referring to the farmstead practice of eating porridge from a common bowl with one’s own spoon. Dundes explained this as I recall by noting that death is the biggest mystery of all, not to be trifled with. I have yet to hear black humour during this pandemic. Okay, boomer eradicator, even belonging to that demographic made me crack a smile. But like many such viral conta gions, this will not extirpate our species. Unfortunately it is the aged and already frail that the pandemic takes to eternal rest. Many have recovered. I believe it is resiliency in the face of in credible challenges coupled with a sense of humour and reality that enables survival. And common sense. I truly wish that the far-too-numerous morons out there followed the
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to earnest fanfare. Though in this particular song, I sense the strength you would see in a horse as it moves from a trot, to a canter, and into a full gallop. They create a kind of release when they dig into the notes, Taavet Niller’s punctuating bass, and harmonies halfway through the song. The way these four musicians utilize dynamics is very satisfying. Toronto audiences had a chance to listen to this song before its release when Curly Strings played at Tartu College on September 17th, 2019, host ed by the Estonian Music Week Culture Club. Audiences were very fortunate to have the band share the song with them in an intimate moment like that, but we are also fortunate to share their creation with others now. You can listen to the song for yourself on Spotify and Apple Music. Both the official video and audio can be found on YouTube. ••• By the way – are you in terested in seeing notable Estonian musical artists, such as Curly Strings, play here in Canada? What about watching those Estonian artists play to gether with Canada’s trailblaz ing musical talent? Over the last two years, Estonian Music Week has hosted concerts for musical tastes of all kinds. We wanted to take this time to en courage you to listen to and support past artists who have played for Estonian Music Week audiences. See what it’s all about at: https://www.esto nianmusicweek.ca/
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guidelines established by Public Health, all medical professionals, at last strongly emphasized by politicians. Being housebound is not pleasant. But the obvious course of action. Having too much time on my hands has led me to be frivolous. (I wonder what Dundes, who shuffled off this mortal coil in 2005 would make of the present.) The Knack hit “My Sharona” became my corona, singing it only at home so as not to offend. And I call the virus Corvid-13. Corvids are the crow family, for many the black bird is an omen of death. 13 of course is for the superstitious a bad number. And interestingly, I have seen and heard them a lot recently, rea lizing, as well, that it has been a while since noticing them. However, that is as far as I have gone. This is war, and the humour of soldiers was often profane and morbid. I do hope that I do not go that far, and that soon there will be a light in the tunnel so that I can get out of my bat-cave. Whoops, I did it again. TÕNU NAELAPEA
