Off the beaten path or where in the world is Zumbrota

Last week there was an article in TIME magazine how Europe is overwhelmed with tourists. Particularly Italy, France, Spain and specifically some of the popular cities like Barcelona, Venice, Rome and Dubrovnik in Croatia. “Of the 1.3 billion international arrivals counted by the U.N. worldwide last year, 51% were in Europe. Americans, in particular, seem drawn to the perceived glamour and sophistication of the Old Continent. More than 15.7 million U.S. tourists crossed the Atlantic in 2017”, said TIME. “France received 87 million tourists last year.”

That is a lot of people. I read an article like this and become very self-conscious. Conscious of how convinced myself that I blend in better than most tourists. Conscious of being privileged one because of my European passport and income while I meet so many people around the world who cannot even dream  of such travel. Conscious that I want to see these famous cities and places, too, but do not want to be one of the millions.  (Certainly do not want to compete with crowds to take a photo with a view) Conscious of all the times I have searched for low-cost flights while some of my friends choose not to travel by air because of environmental concerns.

Many of us who travel for work or pleasure have these thoughts. I know how many places and countries build their whole economy on tourism but what about the ugly side of it? Local businesses and vendors compete for the money and people start harming their own land, environment and historical heritage. And what about the environmental print of all these millions on the move every year? Including my own? It is perplexing.

While living in Chiang Mai, Thailand, I often heard the frustration and dilemma of my local Thai friends who wanted to have a business but were weary of visitor’s attitudes and behavior and the big changes happening in their city. One time I witnessed how Chinese visitors expected the Thai staff to speak Chinese and practically yelled at them. “We have the money and so many of us are coming and why are you too slow to learn our language”.

I stood there thinking how dare this Chinese guy be so rude. And then I remembered that I speak English and I kind of expect to go places and to be understood. (Without the yelling, though 🙂 ) Plus, Thai culture is so polite and accommodating that an average visitor will never know how many times a day he or she may be breaking the cultural taboos. I have seen what my fellow countrymen, Latvians, will do and say in places like Thailand while I hesitated to open my mouth to confront them for  promoting the “ugly European” stereotype. Since I am the polite and culturally sensitive one, right?

Anyways… this summer you can call me a European tourist in America! Besides a busy schedule with meetings, I get to explore. Some small towns and communities. Have you ever heard of Zumbrota, Minnesota? Well, I had not but now I can say “I was there”. What a hidden gem with a typical main street, art shops, beautiful small state theater, best fish and chips I have had in Minnesota and even a unique, old covered bridge!

The lady at the art gallery who sold us tickets to go and see two great local bands, was very friendly. “Latvia? You certainly have come a far way to hear them :)”, she exclaimed. I was equally impressed ’cause she knew exactly where Latvia was. After receiving another compliment how good my English was (that always makes me even more conscious to speak), the lady directed us to Coffee Mill cafe where we had the delicious battered cod.

Don’t know how many visitors a year come to Zumbrota but in 2018 I was one of them! Hopefully not as a statistic but as a Latvian charmed by rural Minnesota.

 

Minnesota diary: Refugees speak about their dreams, struggles and marginalization

I was sitting in the shade under a tree in Loring Park and watching the Twin Cities World Refugee Day performances. Stories, poetry, songs, dances, more stories… Many thoughts were going through my head. First of all, I felt bad for the young Hmong dance group who performed four beautiful dances but were visibly exhausted. All that make-up, changing of costumes, waiting for the next turn. All that during a very hot and humid afternoon (many people would have no idea how hot it gets in Minnesota during the summer).

Secondly, I wished the audience and the attendance was bigger. Maybe the heat, maybe lack of promotion, maybe lack of interest – there could be so many reasons. But many people who knew and who cared, came and supported the immigrant and refugee community of Minneapolis and St Paul metropolis.

There were some refugee groups highly represented – Southeast Asians from Laos, Cambodia and Myanmar (Burma) and Africans from Somalia and Liberia. Just now I looked up the statistics and read that in the last three decades (1979-2016), more than 100,000 refugees have come to Minnesota. This state has welcomed some of the largest communities of Somali (23,400), Hmong (22,000), Karen (14,000), Vietnamese (15,000) and many others, including Ethiopian, Bosnian, Iraqi, Sudanese, Bhutanese.

I remember when I lived in Thailand – Burma border teaching English in refugee schools and talked with many of my Karen friends whose families were hoping to relocate to the United States. Minnesota had one of the most welcoming programs but I was wondering how would someone from Burma, a tropical Asian country, resettle in a new life in northern Midwest. It seemed like the craziest idea and the most unlikely place. But when you are a refugee, you are not picky. You are grateful for the chance to start a new life in peace and security.

And worry about the freezing temperatures later. One winter I saw elderly Karen women walking down the street wearing winter coats but only sandals on their feet. At the event on Sunday my husband mentioned it to one of the Karen volunteers. “We had no idea what to wear in the winter”, she laughed. “We put many layers on our upper bodies but did not know what to wear on our legs. It was a long time before someone local introduced me to the leggings.”

Who were the locals these refugees met when they started living here? How many of the refugees feel ‘local’ even after being here for many years? What makes you a local? What makes you belong? Where are your roots? So many of the refugees feel like nomads and wanderers the rest of their lives and this feeling passes from generation to generation.

Many of the artists on the stage were super talented communicators and the spoken word was exceptional. Many were highly educated second generation immigrants and still they had this incredible deep need to tell their parents heartbreaking story and their own struggles growing up in America as children of refugees.

The richness and beauty of all these cultures meeting, mingling and bonding in this one big country is something to behold. And the annual Twin Cities Refugee Day is truly a day of gratitude and acceptance but also a reminder that this beautiful social fabric is very fragile and vulnerable. And needs to be cherished and nourished as a special gift. And someone always needs to be the good neighbor who says “Welcome to your new home! Welcome to Minnesota! Let me show you what to wear in the winter 🙂 ”

 

My Minnesota diary: Indians and cowboys

Every writer needs a break. After a busy year of university studies, I was deflated. Emotionally and mentally. Who wants to write a blog after staring at the computer screen for days and weeks and months? After a one month hiatus ‘peaceroads’ is back… the world keeps spinning and there is too much happening to keep thoughts to myself (or for my poor husband to be the sounding board 🙂 ).

And let me start with ‘Minnesota diary’ since I am spending summer in the US, mostly in the beautiful Midwest. The name ‘Minnesota’ is based on the Dakota Sioux word “Mini sota“, the native name for the Minnesota River which means “cloudy water” or “sky-tinted water.” Many locations in Minnesota are derived from native American languages including Cree, Sioux and Dakota.

I must admit that on first visits I took it for granted. Well, just some strange American names! Minneapolis sounds cool and that’s it! Minnehaha… haha… But then I started to wonder about these names of streets, neighborhoods, counties while driving through cities. What a unique and interesting name is Minnetonka or Chippewa or Shakopee… where it comes from and what it means.

Quite obvious that these were not typical European/Scandinavian/Anglo names so common in the area. I figured it must be Native American heritage. Ever present even if the people whose language was used are marginalized.

I love maps. I have scoured the map of Minnesota, the land of thousand lakes, and find it so fascinating. And my eyes are always drawn to the Native American tribes and their territories. To me, a foreigner and visitor, this is like a movie. Reservations! The name always raises so many questions in my head. Reserved for what? Reserved from what?

Nowadays most Native Americans (78 %) live in urban centers, not on the reservations. But even in the cities I rarely meet someone from First Nations. My one ‘token’ friend is from the Lakota tribe with relatives in South Dakota and she has invited me to “powwow”, a traditional community gathering with food, dance and song. Sad to admit I still have not taken up this offer because the time is always too short.

Here is the thing… most of my American friends would be totally surprised to find out that I grew up with movies about the cowboys and the Indians. In USSR? In communist Latvia? Did they show American movies? No, these were made in East Germany and undoubtedly used as anti-American propaganda. Guess what?! In our movies Indians were always the good guys and the cowboys were the bad ones. The cowboys were greedy and powerful and wanted to rip off the Indians who were brave and honorable and oppressed.

And we wanted to be Indians! I wanted to be an Indian girl, my brother wanted to be an Indian boy and so did the other kids in our neighborhood. The justice was on the side of the Indians who were treated unjustly and we, the children, wanted justice. We would find bird feathers and put in our hair. Sometimes the shops would sell ‘Indian’ head covers with paper feathers and my brother was lucky to get one of those. I was so jealous…

Recently I had a conversation in Duluth, MN. I was describing some of the tensions and historic ethnic fault lines in Latvia and one young woman commented, “This sounds so strange and foreign to me to have these kind of historical grievances and prejudices between groups of people. Here in northern Minnesota we do not have anything like it.”  Not wanting to be the know-it-all but I had to point out the reservations, legacy of boarding schools and the general Native American experience. What if I asked them about grievances and prejudices? I have a feeling their answer would be quite different.

Do not mean to judge. Just to point out that we get so blindsided because of our cultural bubbles. The ‘other’ story and experience is out of sight and out of mind and simply ceases to be important. Or becomes a page in history book and makes for a good movie. Of course, today and yesterday is not black and white like American or East German movies where we were told two opposing versions who the bad and the good guys were. It is much more complicated but still relevant.

I read a thought provoking and challenging book “Rescuing The Gospel From The Cowboys: A Native American Expression Of The Jesus Way” by Richard Twiss (1954-2013), a minister and theologian from Lakota tribe. Sadly he passed away few years ago but left tremendous legacy for his people and for the whole church in America. One of his observations: “After hundreds of years of missionary efforts, an extremely low number of native people are actively engaged in a life of faith in Jesus and participation in some Christian tradition. This is largely reflective of Euro-American colonial cultural forms, expressions and worldview values.”

As a Lakota man who worshiped Creator and followed Jesus, he knew his stuff…

 

Love and its more than fifty shades of green

May is a beautiful month but this one has been exceptional. In Latvia we experienced the sunniest and warmest May I can ever remember. Everything was blooming all at once. Lilacs, wild roses, chestnuts, rhododendrons, now jasmines … like blooming season on steroids. Makes me want to scream, ” Slow down! Save something for the rest of the summer!”

I took my grandmother who is suffering from dementia to Botanical gardens and she simply came alive. She may not know many things anymore, get confused and forget what she did the day before or even few hours ago but she never forgets the names of flowers! Anything blooming, beautiful and colorful catches her eye. Grandmother will touch it, smell it, adore it… and talk to it.

Yes, she talks to the flowers and tells them that they are pretty and that each is unique. She also talks to a tall tree and asks where does the tree draw its strength and what kind of stories could it tell. We sat down in the grass and grandmother was gently stroking it like it was the smoothest silk. Saying ‘thank you’ for this soft, fresh and green blanket we get to lie on.

My grandmother is a very spiritual person as well and looks at the nature as Creator’s love letter. If she had lived in medieval Italy, I imagine she would have followed the teachings and example of St Francis of Assisi. They would have gotten along very well and probably would have talked for hours about every little creature there is.

Actually I did not mean to write this post about her but about one very important document published by Pope Francis. Encyclical “Laudato si“ (‘Praise be to you’ from old Italian) was  published in 2015 with the subtitle “On Care For Our Common Home.” It covers theology (creation, nature), science (ecology, global warming), environmental ethics (consumerism, irresponsible development), politics (unified global action)… just to name a few things covered by this paper. Above all, though, it talks about life style described as “integral ecology”.

For a spiritual person, it is a lifestyle that integrates our four relationships – with God, with ourselves, with other people and with all created order (nature and animals).

Read the encyclical which you can easily download or listen to audio! It is long but it is so well written in common language while reflecting serious theological and scientific research. Of course, it does not cover everything on this topic but it does encourage and even force a deep and open conversation about how to have peace and just relationship with all nature and all its inhabitants.

So, instead or writing about the importance of recycling or how to limit our personal environmental print or what to do about systemic injustices to our earth, I decided to write about love. St Francis of Assisi was a lover of nature and has become a patron of animals and the natural environment. You could say the “saint of ecology”.

Pope Francis who obviously picked the name ‘Francis’ for a reason has said that “God always forgives; human beings sometimes forgive; but when nature is mistreated, she never forgives.” Like a scorned lover who has been rejected, abused, enslaved and mistreated. Our relationship has been broken and it will take more that this encyclical, books, world conferences and declarations.

I wish I could say I was my grandmother’s granddaughter when it comes to this awareness but I am not. Just a beginner in what has been described as ‘eco conversion’ but don’t see any other way. How can we care for ‘peace on earth’ without caring for ‘peace with the earth’?

Israel-Palestine conflict and my personal challenge

This one is hard. Not because I have nothing to say or because it is too complicated. No, it is because I am a Western Christian and also student of theology/religion. And there is no other international geopolitical issue which can divide Christians as sharply as the Israel-Palestine past, present and future. No matter how gentle or blunt, informed or ignorant, rational or naive, well intentioned or foolish I try to express myself.

This is such a controversial conversation about a long standing conflict, historical justice, human rights and relationships, identity, understanding of the Scriptures and the importance of the land and so on. It is also very emotional because it touches people’s religious feelings in three major world faiths and makes an honest and open dialogue hard to achieve. But dialogue we must. Especially those of us who don’t live in Israel-Palestine but still have some impact through our personal connections, churches, religious organizations and also our governments which represent us as citizens. For example, if Latvia had decided to move its embassy to Jerusalem to follow the USA example (which it hasn’t) , I would form an opinion as a Latvian.

Few days ago in downtown Rīga I was approached by a reporter and her camera person. I had to think fast about the question, “What is your opinion about Crimea?” What is she trying to ask between the lines? I assumed she was asking me about the latest news and how I felt about the newly built bridge between Russia and Crimea which is supposed to cement the Russian claim on this peninsula. How do I feel about it? Quite simple! That Russia is in the wrong and that Crimea was illegally annexed and there is historic injustice happening right before my eyes. And that most people around the world don’t really care because “out of sight, out of mind”. Plus, how are we going to make Russia give it back to Ukraine?

It made me think if I would ever be asked by reporters in Latvia what I think about Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It is never “out of sight, out of mind”. That small corner of the world regularly makes  the world headlines, mostly with stories of division, violence and suffering. And that is one of the big problems –  the stories we hear are often superficial and tailored to ‘our’ ears. Or it’s very one-sided depending on our preferred news source and our own political and religious views.

Here I come to the Christian part. I cannot count how many times I have heard other Western Christians say, “I had no idea there are Palestinian Christians. I assumed that all Palestinians are Muslim”. It is amazing how for some of us things change when we start thinking about Palestinians not only as fellow human beings but also as brothers and sisters in Christ. And how ‘inconvenient’ it becomes. When we find out that there are actually churches in Gaza and that when people suffer hardships in this overcrowded and besieged strip of land, everyone is suffering together – Muslims, Christians, others…

Before someone jumps in, “here we go… talk about objectivity… she is so one-sided”, I strive to be pro-Palestinian and pro-Israeli. I don’t know many things, I am no expert and I have never been to Israel or Palestinian territories in West Bank and Gaza, but I have met and learned from many people in that land. I have met musicians from both backgrounds who formed a band called “My Favorite Enemy”and wrote songs in Arabic, Hebrew and English, expressing common pain, fears and hopes. Here is a link to one of their songs called “Stones“ written from a perspective of a stone being thrown…

I have met, listened and read theologians from both backgrounds. One of the books on my shelf is “Through My Enemy’s Eyes: Envisioning Reconciliation in Israel-Palestine” written by Salim J. Munayer ( a Palestinian Christian and faculty member at Bethlehem Bible College) and Lisa Loden (an Israeli Messianic Jew and faculty member of Nazareth Evangelical Theological Seminary). I have met them in person and listened to their amazing, challenging and deeply moving journey as friends.

The point I want to make is that if we really care, we need to seek out these local voices. People who actually live there and deal with this conflict on day to day basis as they have a much closer view on what is helpful or unhelpful to the peace process and reconciliation efforts. On things that our governments do or don’t do. On views that our churches support or don’t support. On what is loving and what is not. On what is just and what is not.

Here is another book I recommend. “Light Force: A Stirring Account of the Church Caught in the Middle East Crossfire” by Brother Andrew, the passionate old Dutch minister.  Who was very popular in the West when he wrote “God’s Smuggler” about taking Bibles behind the Iron Curtain and sharing his faith with the communists. But not so many Western Christians were interested when he started ministering in the Middle East, even meeting with leaders of PLO, Hamas, Hezbollah and other such groups. Brother Andrew is very open about his own preconceived ideas and Western Christian approach as an outsider trying to fix the problems in the Middle East. But nobody can criticize him for living out his passion for the good news of God’s love.

It has to be good. It has to be news. And it has to be love for all people. Brother Andrew often asks what kind of people does the Book produce? Speaking of the Bible.

Finally… some Christians (or non-Christians) may say that we should not get political. Only focus on the spiritual. When it is us, Westerners, speaking while enjoying the freedoms and peace which did not come without political will, I find it ironic. When Latvian Christians supported the independence of Latvia from Russian and German empires and later from the USSR, was it political or spiritual? Was Martin Luther King and non-violent civil rights movement in the USA political or spiritual? I could give many more examples like South Africa, Northern Ireland, anti-slavery, anti-human trafficking but then I would be getting really really political 🙂

We may have many strong opinions on who is to blame for failing peace efforts in Israel – Palestine and we may have strong beliefs about the eschatological future of this region, but we should never forget that this is not some theory for the people there. If I had been born in Gaza instead of Rīga, I would want the world to think of me as someone who matters. I certainly would not want to live in Gaza, a virtual prison controlled by air, land and sea. If I was a member of Gaza Baptist Church, I would want the brothers and sisters around the world to think of me and pray for our little, struggling fellowship who are caught in the crossfire.

We have to make much more room in our hearts… this is what the Book says and does.

Why bother crossing this particular bridge on May 9

The usual parade of special dates. May 1, May 4, May 8, May 9…  The weather exceptionally beautiful and ‘woe is me’ for having to study and sit in lectures. Not that I care much about official events but glad to participate in smaller grassroots initiatives to give these days a personal meaning.

Every year in May I write about reconciliation and bridging of collective memories in Latvia. May 8 is the day to celebrate the end of war in Europe and May 9 is the day to  celebrate the start of peace through European unity. It is known as Europe Day even if many Europeans have no idea what it is and what it represents.

But my post today is about the other May 9. The one I choose not to celebrate. The one that most Latvians choose not to celebrate. The one that stirs much controversy and discussion ever year. The one celebrated on the other side of the river Daugava which divides our beautiful capital. The one where thousands of people gather at the Victory Monument built in Soviet era and during celebration proudly display the Soviet red star and old Soviet slogans. The one where you get a very strong “us” and “them” vibe.

The bridge I am standing on leads directly to this Victory monument and many many Latvians who don’t live on that side simply choose not cross it on May 9. During the day you will hear, “Stay away from there! Do not cross the river! Avoid it! Ignore it! Go around if you can! It is madness.” And so we continue every year. One group streams toward it and the other group keeps their distance as far as possible.

But I chose to go across this year. As I did last year. Why? It is hard to explain. Maybe I am simply that kind of person who likes to do the opposite of what I am told. The opposite of mainstream if you will. You may think it is idealistic but I know that I have to do something about it. That I have to get in the midst of it. That I have to try to understand how and why. Someone has said that “Holiness is walking toward the darkness”. I don’t mean to use religious or spiritual language to say that I am on the side of ‘light’ and the others are on the side ‘darkness’. I just know that for me personally this represents one of the most challenging things to experience without passing strong judgment.

I go and watch older people get emotional and carry photos of loved ones they lost in WWII. I can understand the pride about the sacrifice of forefather’s who fought against the Nazi regime and in the end prevailed. I can understand the younger generations listening to these family stories and feeling the same pride about their ancestors. I can understand the traditions and the importance of remembering.

But I cannot support the Soviet nostalgia, the glorification of those tragic WWII days as some kind of ‘holy days’ and some kind of ‘holy war’. I cannot accept the concept that this is main and only event for the majority of Russian community in Latvia to be united around. I can be inclusive of people’s memories but I cannot embrace the political overtones and agendas. There is an invisible line which I refuse to cross because of my values, beliefs and understanding of history.

Foreign friends visiting Rīga have asked me, “What is this? Why does Latvian government allow it? Why do you guys allow it?” Once I walked through these May 9 celebrations with an American friend and she actually got afraid and kept asking me how I felt about it.

How do I feel about it? I feel this bridge building will take a little longer (and, of course, it is directly connected to who and what and how long governs in Russia). I also feel hopeful because most of Latvian society lives and dreams and works and loves and makes friends outside these ‘Latvians’ and ‘Russians’ boxes…   but until we get rid of these divisions completely, we must keep crossing back and forth.

Borders check more than our passports: Story about fault lines

On May 1, I woke up and felt like going to the cinema. Latvian cinema. This year we have many new movies – fiction, documentary, animation, TV, etc. – since 2018 celebrates 100 years of national statehood. Since these movies are also a gift to me as a Latvian citizen, I better go and support and enjoy.

I have seen a few but the documentary film “D is for Division” (Wall) by director Dāvis Sīmanis impacted the most. The story of physical and mental boundaries or fault lines between present day Latvia, its Soviet past and its neighbor Russia as in ‘Putin’s Russia’. It hit emotionally, mentally and even spiritually. Because this story focuses on ‘today’. We cannot live in the past or the future. I have only the ‘now’ and what impact is my life having on the present and how does the present impact my future.

The film was very open and honest. The director talking about personal fears, anxieties, questions, observations, hopes… about personal and collective memories that divide… about injustices in the past and the present… about us.

In teaching and studies I often use the same symbols because they are so clear and visual – wall, bridge, wall, bridge. What are we building? What do we need most? What are we becoming? Walls separate into ‘us’ and ‘them’, divide, protect and exclude. Bridges connect two sides, provide meeting place, cross over and include. The documentary portrayed many walls and some bridges. Visible and invisible walls between Latvia and Russia, between ‘Homo soveticus’ and people who have shed the Soviet mindset and past (or at least try to shed it), between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’, between different ways of practicing faith.

Even tough the film in Latvian is called the “Wall”, I see it as a bridge. For sure an attempt to build a bridge from ignorance to awareness, from indifference to responsibility and involvement.

Just a few observations about the different levels of fault lines. First, Latvia (as independent nation, as a member of European Union and NATO) and Russia (Putin’s version of it). The ‘wall’ has gone up high and it keeps going. Latvia would say that we have withdrawn our bridges for the time being. The movie also has great reflections about the life of ordinary people on both sides of the border.

The divisions between those who have moved on from our Soviet past and those who still live in it, miss it and maybe even dream about the return to ‘those glorious days’. There is one guy in the story, Beness Aijo, who dreams of Latvia becoming communist republic again and now fights in eastern Ukraine to see this ‘Soviet’ dream fulfilled there. Obviously these two groups live in different past, present and future. Both have their sacred memories as bonfires to gather around, to tell stories and to feel united. The clear message to the other side  – Do not dare to touch our bonfire!

Today on May 4, people in Latvia are gathering to celebrate our independence from the USSR/Soviet Union. Others, not as many but still a large group, will gather on May 9 to celebrate the victory in WWII but also to celebrate the former Soviet Union. Our collective memories clash and our visions of the present and the future diverge. The film obviously raises the questions and seeks the answers of how to live side by side and how to remember in a way that unites, not divides.

Last but not least. There are scenes from a Russian Orthodox monastery inside Russia where the paintings on the wall depict soldiers as heroes of the past and the present. During the film you see Jesus face on military flags. It is our Christian never ending story and shame that we ‘recruit’ God to be on our side  or that we ‘elect’ Jesus as our leader into the battle. I am glad nobody was sitting next to me as I was fidgeting in my seat and silently praying, “Jesus, forgive us! Forgives us all for we don’t know what we are doing.”

Go and see this film if they show it anywhere near you (with English subtitles, of course) and if you are interested in questions that are relevant not just to Eastern Europeans.

Thank you, Dāvis Sīmanis and the crew, for building this bridge through the camera lens!

Latvian:

Brīvdienā pamodos noskaņojumā, ka gribas aiziet uz kino. Uz latviešu kino. Galu galā jānovērtē tās Latvijas simtgades radošās dāvanas, kas domātas arī man. Un tā diena iesākās ar režisores Ināras Kolmanes “Billi” un beidzās ar Dāvja Sīmaņa dokumentālo stāstu “Mūris”.

Un šoreiz mērķī trāpīja “Mūris”. Trāpīja emocijās, domās, aktualitātē un vispār. Daudzu iemeslu dēļ, bet viens no galvenajiem, ka filma stāsta par šodienu, par mums, par mani. “Latvija 100” ietvaros liels uzsvars likts uz notikumiem pagātnē, kad manis vēl nebija (protams, protams, ka tas ir svarīgi, un no pagātnes mēs gan iedvesmojamies, gan mācāmies). Nākotne man vēl nepieder, taču tagadne ir tepat, un tā ir manējā. Tikpat daudz cik tavējā, jūsējā, mūsējā.

Patika, ka stāsts ir atklāts un personīgs. Par to, ko redz neapbruņota acs, par bailēm, par neziņu, par satraukumu, par bezspēcības sajūtu, par sarežģītiem jautājumiem, par spriedzi un aizspriedumiem, par vientulību, par netaisnīgumu, par pagātnes un šodienas plaisām.

Darbā un studijās man tuva ir izlīguma un kolektīvo atmiņu tēma. Lasot lekcijas ir tik viegli un uzskatāmi izmantot šos simbolus – mūris, tilts, mūris, tilts. Ko mēs ceļam? Kas mums šobrīd vajadzīgs? Kas mēs esam? Mūris, kas atdala ‘savējos’ un ‘svešos’, norobežo, nelaiž iekšā, pasargā no reālām vai iedomātām briesmām, vai tilts, kas savieno divas puses, iekļauj, ļauj satikties, iet vienam pie otra, pat pāriet ‘otrā pusē’. Mūris var būt arī plaisa jeb dziļa aiza, ko nevar tik vienkārši pārlēkt, kā stāstā par Ronju, laupītāja meitu.

Filmā ir gan mūri un plaisas, gan tilti. Mentāli atķeksēju dažus redzamos un jūtamos ‘mūrus’ – starp Latviju un Putina Krieviju, starp Rīgu un pierobežu, starp Ansi Ataolu Bērziņu un Latvijas sabiedrību, starp Benesu Aijo un Latvijas valsti, starp kolektīvām atmiņām, starp ‘Homo soveticus’ un ‘ne-padomju’ cilvēkiem, starp manu kristietības izpratni un filmā dzirdēto un redzēto. Arī tilti tur bija vairāki. Pati filma, lai gan saucas “Mūris”, manuprāt, ir izcils tilts. Kaut vai no nezināšanas uz zināšanu, no vienaldzības uz iedziļināšanos.

Īsumā par dažiem attiecību līmeņiem.

Latvija un Krievija. Ko tur vēl teikt?! ‘Neredzamais’, bet draudīgais mūris ir izaudzis pamatīgs. Kā zinām, Latvijā teiktu, ka tas uzcelts vienpusīgi no Krievijas puses, un mēs tikai pacēlām jeb atvilkām savus tiltus uz doto brīdi. Un tagad esam spiesti celt nostiprinājumus savā mūra pusē.

Rīga un pierobeža. Varētu teikt arī Rīga un lauki. Latvija ir tik maza, bet tik viegli dzīvot savā ‘burbulī’ un nezināt, kas notiek citur. Kā tur izskatās, ko tur dara, ko tur jūt, kā tur vispār dzīvo. Es tagad rādu ar pirkstu pati uz sevi. Latgalē neesmu bijusi daudzus gadus (labi, man ir neliels attaisnojums, ka pēdējos 10 gadus dzīvoju ārpus Latvijas). Uz Krievijas vai Baltkrievijas robežas neesmu bijusi nekad. Jo parasti lidoju pāri robežām, nevis šķērsoju pa zemes ceļiem.

Filmas epizodes par Draudzības Kurgānu uz triju valstu robežas (Latvija, Krievija, Baltkrievija), un tur rīkotajām 4. maija un 9. maijā svinībām, bija izglītojošas. Cik tur daudz simbolikas! Abpus robežai tiek dejots un dziedāts, karogi vicināti, foto uzņemti, bet svētku saturs tik strīdīgs. Katrai pusei ir savs ‘svētais atmiņu ugunskurs’, ap kuru pulcēties, un viens otram atgādina – Pat nedomā aiztikt vai jaukt manu ugunskuru!

To pašu var attiecināt uz 9. maija svinībām Daugavpilī. Ja godīgi, bija grūti skatīties. Pamatīgi dīdījos krēslā. Visa tā nostalģija pēc ‘padomju’ laikiem, slavas dziesmas un  mazie bērni padomju karavīru formas tērpos. Cik tas viss ir pazīstams no bērnības, un cik ļoti gribas to visu aizmirst! Atceros, ka mans brālis arī saņēma dāvanā padomju jūrnieka formas tērpu, un cik viņš bija lepns. It sevišķi par savu plastmasas duncīti pie sāniem!

Par diviem filmas varoņiem Ansi Ataolu Bērziņu un Benesu Aijo (nē, es šeit nelieku vienlīdzības zīmi) es nevaru komentēt. Abi ir aktīvisti un patrioti, bet absolūti pretēji mērķi un līdzekļi. Atzīstos, neesmu padziļināti sekojusi viņu stāstiem, tikai no mediju virsrakstiem. Arī 2009. gada notikumu laikā biju tālu tālu prom no Latvijas. Galvenā sajūta, klausoties un skatoties viņu pieredzi un pārdomas, bija dziļas skumjas. Gan par vienu, gan par otru. Tāda vientulība. Pirms 10-15 gadiem mēs staigātu pa vienām un tām pašām ielām, varbūt sēdētu vienās kafejnīcās…

Šķiet, ka filmas viszīmīgākā epizode ir Adwards apbalvošanas ceremonija “Splendid Palace” zālē. Tie kadri vispār likās kā no citas realitātes. Mēģināju saprast, ko tas atgādina, un vienīgais, kas nāca prātā, bija filma “Bada spēles”. Par sabiedrības eliti, kas izklaidējas ar līdzpilsoņu ciešanām. Zāle pilna ar jauniem, enerģiskiem, radošiem, izglītotiem cilvēkiem, kuri bauda sava smagā darba augļus ar vīna glāzi rokās. Varētu teikt, te sēž Latvijas nākotne. Un uz skatuves tiek būvēts virtuālais tilts ar A.A.Bērziņu ar tehnoloģiju palīdzību, bet paliek sajūta, ka starp abām pusēm ir augsts mūris. Gan Ansis, gan Rīgas publika joko un smaida, bet kas notiek patiesībā? Kadra tuvplānā ieraudzīju kādu paziņu, un tagad gribas uzrakstīt un pajautāt, vai viņa atceras to momentu un savas izjūtas un domas. Izskatījās tāda apjukusi.

Tālāk… Ukrainā filmētos kadrus skatīties vienmēr ir grūti. Tās šāviņu un ložu rētas logos, ēkās, rotaļu laukumos. It kā viss jau reportāžās neskaitāmas reizes redzēts, bet šoreiz sāpināja vairāk. Un separātistu štābiņi viesnīcās, kurās vajadzētu gulēt tūristiem, nevis kaujiniekiem. Arī te vairs nav ko piebilst. Smagi.

Un vēl komentārs par reliģiju. Kristietībai pēc manas sapratnes un pārliecības vajadzētu būt visstiprākajam un drosmīgākajam tiltam, bet realitātē tas var būt vislielākais mūris. Kurā pusē ir Dievs? Uz kura karoga ir Jēzus? Ir viegli reaģēt uz sienas zīmējumiem krievu pareizticīgo klosterī Krievijā, kur attēloti pagātnes un mūsdienu karavīri gluži kā svētie mocekļi, kuriem Dievs dāvā īpašu aizsardzību un labvēlību. Var sašutumā grozīt galvu, ko es arī darīju (un atkal pamatīgi dīdījos). Klusībā teicu: “Jēzu, piedod! Piedod mums visiem! Mēs nezinām, ko mēs darām.” Jo mēs visi spējam tikpat pārliecināti likt Dievu savos kara karogos, kara saucienos. Saviem karavīriem ‘piezīmējam’ eņģeļu sargājošos spārnus.

Skatoties filmu, varētu domāt, ka folkloristi ir vislabākie tiltu būvētāji. Tur bija vērtīga un, manuprāt, patiesa doma, ka tikai pazīstot un cienot savu kultūru, mēs varam cienīt citas kultūras.

‘Soveticus’ nostalģijā dzīvojošie arī nejuta nekādas robežas starp valstīm. Viņi īpaši uzsvēra to, ka ir vienoti savā identitātē, ka ir internacionālisti. Tur bija tā simboliska tikšanās uz robežtiltiņa Draudzības Kurgānā. Ļoti gribējās ielīst Latvijas robežsargu ādā un uzzināt, ko viņi tajā brīdī jūt un domā?!

Un visam pa vidu vēl apcietinātie patvēruma meklētāji, no kuriem daudzi Latvijas valsts un sabiedrības acīs ir “nelegālie imigranti”, un bilde top jau pavisam skumīga.

Kā jau minēju, šī filma man liekas spēcīga ar savu aktualitāti. Par tagadni, kuru joprojām ietekmē pagātne, un kura veido mūsu nākotni. Kādu mēs vēlamies šo nākotni? Latvijā un Eiropā! Kā zemi ar dziļām plaisām pēc zemestrīces? Kā mazas feodālas karaļvalstis ar bieziem aizsargmūriem un paceļamiem tiltiem?

Ja pareizi sapratu filmas veidotājus, viņi izvēlas būt tiltu būvētāji. Ar kameru plecā un mikrofonu rokā. Bet, galvenais, ar acīm un ausīm vaļā. Gan fiziski šķērsojot robežas starp valstīm un cilvēkiem, gan savelkot kopā dažādus skatupunktus. Izklausās tik klišejiski, bet nekā gudrāka un vienkāršāka jau nav. Ja gribi saprast, ej, skaties un klausies! Ja negribi dzīvot mūros, ej, meklē patiesību, ceļu uz piedošanu un izlīgumu!

Paldies Dāvim Sīmanim un visai komandai par ieguldīto darbu, laiku un mums visiem uzdotajiem jautājumiem caur kameras aci! Atbildes jāmeklē kopīgi…