:Bruno, tell us about the “maleniesu” jokes.  I’d love to hear about it/them! :

Malenieši-mucā auguši, pa spundu baroti.

Malenietis with a sack and a pitchfork is going down the road when a stranger who meets him (probably from Riga) asks what is he doing with the sack and pitchfork.  He answers :"people are complaining that there is not enough sunshine,” I am going to fill the sack with sunshine and take it over where it is needed.

Malenieši have a little similarity to the lost city of Atlantis.  Every body knows that they exist, it is just a question where..  There are claims that they exist somewhere between Riga and Daugavpils, (I suspect closer to Daugavpils) in the middle of the woods.  Or ,You name it, from here to there..  Somewhere around Limbazi
perhaps , (I have some relatives living there). in the middle of the woods, Or “ Oh, they live just over the hill there.”

Sometimes I have a feeling that some of the comments here on LOL come from Malenieši.
Visu labu.

Sveiki!

“Malenieši have a little similarity to the lost city of Atlantis.  Every body knows that they exist, it is just a question where..  There are claims that they exist somewhere between Riga and Daugavpils, (I suspect closer to Daugavpils) in the middle of the woods.  Or ,You name it, from here to there..  Somewhere around Limbazi perhaps , (I have some relatives living there). in the middle of the woods, Or “ Oh, they live just over the hill there.” ”

If ever there was a question worthy of a LOL quiz. .  . 

Granted, ‘mālenieši’ has become a metaphor, but I was under the impression that it originally referred to people who came from Mālupe, a pagasts near the town of Alūksne.  Can anyone provide an original source to back this up?  I can’t, after quickly checking my Endzelīns’ publications (which only list ‘mālupieši’ and ‘mālpilieši,’ the latter being from Mālpils pagasts). 

There is an urban legend among Latvians that claims that a traveler through Latvian territory in the Middle Ages wrote that ‘a thieving race of people lives along the shores of the Baltic Sea.’ But, as far as I know no one has ever been able to substantiate that this annal ever existed by pointing to a specific document.  Is thinking of Mālupe as the original source of māleniešu jokes equally wrong-headed?  Does anyone know what was the first printed reference to ‘mālenieši?’

Visu labu,

Elizabete

Ciao,

Can’t find anything in books so far, but I’m still pressed for time. My understanding is that “malēnieši” and “Malēnija” derive from “edge,” “mala,” as in the edge of Livonia. It’s northern and eastern Vidzeme.

Tā ir vairāk nekā 200 kilometrus no Rīgas attālā Malēnija jeb plašāk zināms kā Alūksnes rajons – starp rietumiem un austrumiem, Krievijas un Igaunijas pierobeža, pats Eiropas sākums!

“Palīdzēsim Malēnijai!”

Modris Lazdekalns ir alūksnietis. “Te ir Malēnija un malēnieši, ko uzreiz var pazīt pēc izrunas šaurā “e”. Es vienmēr uzsveru, ka neesmu ne Lazdukalns, ne Lazdakalns, bet Lazd[e]kalns ar šauro “e”. Tā cenšos defektu pārvērst efektā,” viņš uzsver. M.Lazdekalns atzīst, ka malēnieši daudzreiz nes gaismu ar maisu istabā, bet viņi arī septiņreiz nomērīs un tikai tad nogriezīs.

“Saņem ārzemju investīcijas kokapstrādei”

“Cariskās Krievijas laikā te bija Vidzemes guberņas nomale – Maliena, bet ne Malēnija.”

“Vēsturiskais raksturojums” (par Madonu)

Vysu lobu,
/P

Found a better reference—Latvju enciklopēdija. Also called “tālumnieki,” the original terms were “apmaļu ļaudis” and “pamaļi”—those who live at a pamale. Any outlying area. These were cited by Stender and Lange in the 18th C. All were derogatory, denoting people who differed in dress, dialect, traditions and lifestyle. The term “malēnieši” itself was coined by Jēkabs Zvaigznīte in 1860—he translated a book of German jokes about Swabians as Par malēniešiem. He then popularized malēnieši in Pēterburgas Avīzes, writing in the Alūksne dialect. This then took off, with writings in many dialects for humor, but also for pseudonymous screeds of political and social effect, to attack enemies of the Latvians, reactionaries, and the apathetic. Alunāns writes of a “Parliament of Maliena”—its seat is in Jelgava (!). Rainis, attacking drunks and community groups, locates the misdeeds in “happy Subate” (a town on the Lithuanian border). (LE, II, pp. 1605-1606)

/P

Can’t resist some more musings on the subject, even as Ambersun manages to take even this into the Russkie realm (and, um—la gaļa is not exactly what a pēterpilietis would say!).

Is the nation not mature enough to laugh at itself? Is there nothing to make fun of in Latvia? Is the misery of the Occupation Museum exhibitions not a good subject for jokes? Are Latvians too busy wallowing in self-pity that we forget to laugh at themselves once in a while?

In my experience, Letts laugh at themselves almost incessantly, if somewhat bitterly.

Bruno hints at the fact that non-Latvians aren’t likely to be in on it, and I think he’s right. It’s not so hard to understand that the misery we are intent upon marking on as many black tassel days as possible might be the butt of jokes for Letts, but that we would rarely share such a joke with them diabolical occupation-denying droogs next door.... and the droogs next door wouldn’t get it anyway, not knowing Latvian at the level humor requires (a high level—I’m currently translating a text laden with a very Latvian irony, and it’s quite hard to strike a similar tone in English).

One of the songs sung at the demonstration you sort of pooh-poohed, Aleks, was this one, by the late, great poet Māris Melgalvs. It contains no small dose of Lettish irony (and I think Letts are experts at irony)—but it requires knowledge of the cultural, literary, and historical references. It is, of course, dead serious, too.

Irony is at the core of being Latvian, I think. Avots broke boundaries not only with its sex issue, but also with its irony issue.

Quoth the Wikipedia: Irony often requires a cultural backdrop to be understood or noticed, and as with any culture-specific idiom, irony often cannot be perfectly transplanted.

Vysu lobu,
/P

Elizabete wrote:

Granted, ‘mālenieši’ has become a metaphor, but I was under the impression that it originally referred to people who came from Mālupe, a pagasts near the town of Alūksne.  Can anyone provide an original source to back this up?  I can’t, after quickly checking my Endzelīns’ publications (which only list ‘mālupieši’ and ‘mālpilieši,’ the latter being from Mālpils pagasts). 

Sure… my father’s side of the family (who are from Mālupes pagasts)!  They’re my source, and they’re definitely originals.

But seriously, folks…
Having said that, I’ll try to remember to look at Pelecis’ “Maleniesa pasaule” when I get home.  He’s from Malupe, and he published a series of memoirs about the area using that term… perhaps the origin of the word is addressed.

Visu labu,
Anita

P.S. A slightly (very much?) off topic (tangential) note re Ambersun’s joke. The last time I was in Paris, I saw numerous restaurants with little Russian flags and “Russian spoken here” signs. This is true all over the world—if you say you are from Latvia in the less touristed parts of untouristed countries like Syria, even—smiling people will find a Russophone (hey, we were even waved through army checkpoints because Latvians are Russians and Russians are considered way cool in that totalitarian statelet—the first Arab in space was a Syrian cosmonaut!). As Russia gets richer, this is even more true—Russian studies in that formerly Russian part of the US, Alaska, are rather in vogue, for example. 

This is why a lot of the comparisons you make, Ambersun, are not only off base but absolutely absurd. The “big world” you keep referencing seems to be, in your eyes—the so-called Anglosphere. As I’ve suggested before—that’s not “the big world.” English is declining as “the language of the Internet,” for example, and swiftly.

The comparisons are simply nonsensical. It is rather easy to say “aaaaargh, they live in Latvia and ought to speak Latvian” of the Dvinskians, for example, and to try to appeal to nationalism, generically—but that is to elide. For many people, it is a question of wasting time learning a provincial language in a country that anyway cares not a whit about them, and would in fact reject them even if they did learn Latvian (that horrid accent, and what with the history), vs. cultivating their mother tongue, which just happens to be a major language spoken in many countries from here to Alaska, offering far more opportunities, books, films, TV, and even worlds than Latvian does.

Mind you, I’m not saying that’s “right,” “desirable,” or otherwise hunky-dory—it’s just a fact. It’s a major part of why minor languages die. I have lots of Latvian friends who feel they read everything they wanted to read that was available in Latvian shortly after they reached puberty—and again, just plain fact. The Latvian world is—small. There was and is this tremendous effort to bring “the big world” into it—but it is… well, uneconomical. Because every educated Latvian knows at least three languages.

There are plenty of benefits to being small, one of which is exactly that—unlike most Anglophones, we know very well that “la gaļa” is unlikely to get us the beef in the City of Light.

But, like Stranga, I don’t know many successful examples of “integrating” the members of large, imperial nations into smaller and indeed lesser cultures. This is and is not a matter of inferiority.

Vysu lobu,
/P

‘’It’s the nature of Russians to take everything with a little bitterness and a little humor,’’ said Valentin Polyakov, a member of Kanotiye. ‘’There’s comedy in that.’’

The line between laughter and tears was always paper-thin in Russia. Tragedy flavored comedy and gave it its sting. Humor survived Soviet censors and even thrived on adversity, shaped into something subtle and delicious in the hands of comedians who disguised their punchlines in a double entendre or a judicious pause.

It’s difficult to transplant that kind of underground humor to a country where anything and everything goes in comedy. What’s the point of subtlety, many of the older immigrant comics complain, when everyone is free to complain out loud?

‘’Forbidden fruit is always sweet,’’ said Albert Levin, a well-known Soviet-era comedy writer who immigrated to Brooklyn two years ago to join his son. ‘’When we had censors and it was forbidden to joke, it was easier to find things to joke about.’’

[...]

Mr. Levin has also thrown himself into the task of learning English, but he can’t find anyone to practice with. This is not a joke: in Brighton Beach, there are signs in store windows that advertise: ‘’English spoken here.’’ Everyone speaks Russian, Mr. Levin complained with a smile, including the Chinese merchants.

“In Brooklyn, Russian Jokes Keep Their Sting”

That was written a decade ago.

/P

Peteris Cedriņs et al.,

I have a question about Pushkin jokes.  I know that Pushkin is much revered and loved poet in Russia.  Are there Pushkin jokes in russian, or are they a non-russian thing ?

Visu labu,

I’m not sure about Pushkin being regarded as a comedic writer; I’ve always thought of his works as ‘serious’, though, I may be wrong.  I’ve read some pretty funny, satirical stuff by Gogol(translations, of course,), however, though I can’t remember the names of the books now.

Interesting discussion about the Maleniesi that has developed.  Glad you brought to the fore, Bruno.

Irena

I was wrong about Pushkin; according to my mother,” vinam bija “sausmigas” anekdotes,” many not even written down, ‘izdotas’, rather passed on and kept within the ‘tauta’.

Another famous Russian satirist of Soviet times was Mikhail Zoschenko, how he got away with a lot of what he wrote about is a wonder--comical situations about the Sov times, people having to take numbers, waiting in line to use the sauna, a one room flat filled with people all having to use the same bath tub and then his anecdotal story about taking a young sophisticate to the opera, but telling her not to order more than one piece of cake because he couldn’t afford to pay for it; her taking another piece of cake anyway, his bad mouthing her, her telling him she already bit into it, he telling her to put it back and eventually having to end up washing dishes to pay for the cake-all told in detail in a remarkably gut-splitting way.

Probably Aleksejs or Peteris can elucidate on all this further.

Irena

Oh please...I’ve been around Latvians all my life and they’re as funny as any other national group I’ve encountered.

As far as self-deprecating humour, it’s abundant.

So there!

A disgruntled and puzzled pseudoLatvian....

Maybe you’ve just been hanging around the wrong crowd...???

Sveiki!

Thanks to all for the commentary and research about mālenieši! : )

Visu labu,

Elizabete

Bruno the Lett - 04 June 2008 12:33 PM

Peteris Cedriņs et al.,

I have a question about Pushkin jokes.  I know that Pushkin is much revered and loved poet in Russia.  Are there Pushkin jokes in russian, or are they a non-russian thing ?

Visu labu,

There are Pushkin jokes. Pushkin had plenty of flaws in his character - such as womanizer - to be made fun of…

Aleksejs et al.,

Thanks for the information on Pushkin.

Visu labu