In the late 19th century the Russian czar encouraged the settling of virgin lands. At that time Latvia was on the border of the Russian empire, and from 1894-1914 Latvians established approximately 200 settlements in Siberia. At the time, more than 200,000 Latvians lived scattered throughout Russian territories east of present-day Latvia.

Most of the settlers were landless peasants, tenants, servants or craftsmen. This was the only opportunity for them to finally own their own land and work it as they wished, instead of continuing to serve the German landowners in Latvia.

The 1920s and 1930s were a particularly successful time for the Latvian settlements in Russia. Many Latvians owned workshops or large, well-tended farms with modern agricultural technology. Some even owned dairies.

During the 1933-1934 academic year there were 119 Latvian schools in Russia, 17 of which were secondary schools. Until 1935 there were also several publishing houses, publishing newspapers and books exclusively in the Latvian language.

The founding of the Augšbebri colony

The Latvian settlement named Augšbebri was founded in 1897. Emigrants from Latvia toiled to clear fields and tend crops in the area beyond the Irtysh River. They built houses and lived on individual farms, as they had done in Latvia. Finally they were free to tend their own lands, grow their own crops and cattle, and build their own houses. The villagers still refer to those as the good old times.

Josef Stalin began the forced collectivization of Russian lands in 1927. As a result, many Latvian owners of successful individual farms were driven onto kolkhozes (collective farms), and all they owned was deemed common property.

Latvian schools, clubs and libraries were closed. The people were forced to speak and write in Russian—a language that the Latvians had not always needed to learn before then. Many Latvian settlements were liquidated or flooded with other ethnic groups.

Today Augšbebri—called Babrauka by the locals—consists of one long street with approximately 60 houses. Of the 200 or so inhabitants, 116 (according to a 1997 poll) consider themselves Latvian. These are descendants of the Kupsis, Vērnieks, Kalniņš, Barons, Otaņķis, Pumpurs, Leja, Līksnis, Varpa, Ņezduļķis, Smilga and Auzis families. The rest of the inhabitants are of German and Estonian heritage, as well as a few Russian families.

Learning their forefathers’ language

In 1989, as the atmoda (National Awakening) was beginning in Latvia, several enthusiasts, supported by the Latvian Foundation and the Latvian Ministry of Education, established the Latvian Education Mission, the goal of which was to select and send teachers from Latvia to the Latvian settlements in Russia. After a period of 50 years, the teaching of the Latvian language in Russia had finally been resumed.

For three years—until the summer of 1992—teachers from Latvia taught in Arhlatviešu village in the Bashkir Republic (Bashkiria), in Rižkova and Augšbebri in western Siberia, and in Lejas Bulāna in eastern Siberia. Dace Dombrovska was the teacher of Latvian language and traditions in Augšbebri during this time.

After an interruption of several years, the Latvian Education Mission in Russia was resumed again in 1998, this time financed by the World Federation of Free Latvians and the Latvian Evangelical Lutheran Church Outside of Latvia, as well as the Latvian embassy in Russia. Teachers were again sent to Arhlatviešu village in the Bashkiria, Augšbebri in Omsk District and Lejas Bulāna in Krasnoyarsk Territory to teach the Latvian language.

After more than a century of their parents’ and grandparents’ emigration, the older Latvian generations in Russia still speak in a beautiful Latvian tongue with a slightly old-fashioned sound to it, especially heard in grammatical forms such as irād (is) and navād (is not). Surprisingly, these people, who have been born and have lived their entire lives in Siberia, speak Russian with a noticeable accent.

The people of Augšbebri use words borrowed from Russian when they speak Latvian, such as napitoks (a drink), boļņica (a hospital) and boļšaks (a highway). Many of these were new objects or ideas that did not exist at the time when the first Latvians settled in Siberia, and therefore new terminology had to be developed. The easiest route was to take the appropriate word from Russian and adapt it to Latvian pronunciation.

Unfortunately, the passing of the Latvian language from one generation to the next has now come to an end. At best, children and young people today only understand Latvian, but do not speak it. There are only a few families in the village in which the parents speak Latvian with their children. Therefore, the children now study Latvian as a foreign language.

Since 1998 the students in grades 1-4 at the Augšbebri school—a total of about 10 children—study Latvian as an elective subject. The parents’ attitude is generally positive, and as a result almost all of the children attend Latvian lessons.

Older children and teenagers (who go to school at the secondary school in Martyushevo, 12 kilometers from Augšbebri) study Latvian in the afternoons at the village clubhouse. Adults attend lessons in the evenings. In addition to language lessons, the teachers from Latvia have also directed drama clubs and offered lessons in the English language and psychology.

Thanks to various publishing houses in Latvia and other supporters and patrons, Augšbebri currently has a fairly extensive collection of learning materials and video films in Latvian, as well as a small library. The Augšbebri Latvian Club has also obtained a television, VCR, stereo, photocopier and computer with help from the Latvian State Culture Capital Foundation. In the autumn of 1999 the Augšbebri Latvian Club was the best-equipped clubhouse in all of Omsk District.

A peculiar phenomenon of Augšbebri is that since the beginning, many members of other ethnic groups who have married into or otherwise emigrated to the village have learned the Latvian language.

Two identities, languages and traditions

Today two identities coexist in Augšbebri: the Latvian identity, and the Russian, or Siberian, identity. The majority of the inhabitants of Augšbebri consider themselves to be Latvian and even act insulted if someone tries to call them Russian.

But at the same time their way of life is distinctly Siberian. Tall fences and gates divide their houses and outbuildings from the street. In the courtyards behind the fences, boardwalks save their shoes from the mud. The gardens stretch behind the yard and outbuildings.

Most of the buildings are made of logs from the surrounding taiga. Moss is stuffed into the spaces between the logs. Houses are heated with firewood, which is also hauled in from the taiga. It seems that the taiga provides for all of the villagers’ needs: there they pick berries and mushrooms, hunt birds, gather branches from which to dry meat, and fish in its rivers. Especially in recent years, while Russia is experiencing great economic problems, timber and other wood materials from the forest are also an important source of income.

There are only a few state-run jobs in the village: one saleswoman, a couple of workers in the clubhouse and school, a mailwoman and a doctor’s assistant. But even the “lucky” ones, who receive a supposedly regular salary (many are not paid on time), are not able to cover all of their expenses. For example, in 1999 a bus ticket to Omsk and back cost USD 6, but a teacher’s monthly salary was only USD 30.

The kolkhoz still exists, and many of the villagers work there. Wages, though, have not been paid for years. Sometimes workers do get paid, but in noodles or rubber boots, instead of money.

The only way people earn real money is by working in the forests. Retirees are considered the most secure, because they at least receive a regular pension.

The difficult economic situation in the village causes many social problems. Adequate health care is not available, if at all. Even basic medications, vitamins and vaccinations are lacking. Only very few families are able to provide a post-secondary education for their children in Omsk or some other large city. The limited opportunities to live a meaningful life have driven many to alcoholism.

Life in Augšbebri is not easy. Russia’s economic and social troubles directly affect everybody, including villagers. For example, since there is no money for road repairs, the roads leading to Augšbebri are practically impassable during spring and autumn, and there is no bridge across the Irtysh River, providing direct access to the city of Tara. As a result, Augšbebri is isolated from the rest of the world for at least half of the year.

Hardly anyone in Augšbebri owns an automobile – there are only about 10 in the whole village. A popular mode of transportation to reach the nearby villages of Martyushevo (a distance of 10 km), Kurzemes Ozolciems (12 km) and Yegorovka (20 km), as well as Tara (40 km), is the motorcycle. Horse-pulled sleighs are used in the winter. Teams of horses and wagons wait outside the clubhouse on election day.

The only form of public transportation connecting Augšbebri to the outside world is the bus, which is scheduled to make a stop on the highway going towards Tara in the mornings, and another stop on the way back in the evenings. But in reality, the bus only runs about three to four months a year due to poor road conditions—in autumn the road becomes in impassable mass of mud, and in winter it is covered with a thick layer of snow. Waiting at the bus stop, one never knows whether the bus will come today or not.

The Irtysh River separates Augšbebri from the nearest village, but it cannot be crossed for approximately three months of the year, while the ice melts in the spring and forms in the autumn. During these times the villagers have no access to a doctor, because there is no doctor on their side of the river. Although a first aid post in the village stocks vaccinations, the only real urgent care is in Tara. Several villagers have been born in an automobile or on the ferry en route to Tara.

A couple of villages lie even beyond Augšbebri, but beyond them the great taiga stretches to the Arctic Ocean.

Songs and dances

Despite the harsh environment, difficult work and Russia’s economic problems, the inhabitants of Augšbebri have not lost the sparkle in their eyes, the joy in their hearts or their knowledge of songs and dances. One encounters humor, songs, dances and games at every turn.

At the onset of winter, when fields of snow reach as far as the eye can see and the thermometer sinks to minus 30-40 degrees Celsius, the villagers are finally able to relax. The short summer was filled with constant, hard work in order to provide firewood, hay, berries, mushrooms and vegetables. Finally in winter the villagers can sit peacefully and nibble pine nuts, watch television, spin wool and knit socks. Winter is also the time to rest and celebrate.

Augšbebri celebrates all of the holidays: Christmas and the New Year, as well as those same holidays a second time according to the old Russian calendar; the Soviet holidays of Army Day, Womens’ Day and Victory Day on May 9; Easter and Jāņi (the summer solstice). Recently the villagers have also begun to observe Nov. 18 (Latvian Independence Day), and they even hold a Valentine’s Day dance.

All holidays are celebrated in the clubhouse, which is also where the folklore group Varavīksne holds its weekly rehearsals. The group sings traditional Latvian folk songs and dances old-time dances, many of which have long been forgotten in Latvia. But the group also learns songs in Russian for regional choir competitions and other performances in Tara. No one in Augšbebri can read music or play a musical instrument, except for “Varavīksne” member Valentīna Šilova, who learned to play the bayan (a type of button accordion) by ear.

Relatives and friends remember each others’ birthdays and celebrate by setting the table with delicacies from the forest and their gardens: bird cherry compote, various jams and jellies, sauerkraut, marinated mushrooms, potatoes, fish, and many pork and beef dishes.

Moonshine also helps the merriment. Made from sugar or bread, the home-made drink is usually around 70 percent alcohol, and is diluted to 40-50 percent before being served.

Preserving their faith for 50 years

Despite having endured more than 70 years of atheism, there are still people in Augšbebri who listen to, speak to and believe in God. Augšbebri has no minister and no church, so women of the older generation take turns hosting prayer meetings every Sunday. Until recently these services still took place in Latvian, but Russian has become their main language since several younger people have joined the group of believers. The songs, though, are still sung in Latvian. Lately the villagers have established contact with Baptist congregations in Tara and elsewhere in Omsk District. The local minister or Baptist missionaries from the United States now visit the village a few times a year.

Between Latvian and Siberia

A group from Latvia (photojournalist Uldis Briedis and documentary film maker and historian Ingvars Leitis) first visited the Latvian colonies in Siberia in 1975. They also visited Augšbebri and Kurzemes Ozolciems (12 kilometers from Augšbebri) in order to meet with the descendants of the 19th century emigrants and to tell about them back in Latvia.

Inga Utena (the director of the Latvian TV program “Spiets”) and Māris Jurgensons (cameraman of the TV program “Labvakar”) visited Augšbebri in 1990. The following spring members of the Kalniņš family from Siberia took part in a “Spiets” program about families of singers.

The Augšbebri folklore group, led by Olga and Pēteris Vakenguts, traveled to Latvia for the first time in 1991 to take part in the Baltica festival in Latvia. The theme of their performance was wedding traditions, and they surprised many Rigans with their knowledge of the Latvian language and ancient melodies.

Roberts Ķīlis, a doctoral candidate in social anthropology at Cambridge University, lived in Augšbebri from November 1996 to September 1997 to gather data for his dissertation. While observing the everyday life and learning the history of the village, he discovered many facts that even the villagers themselves had not known, for example, that 1997 marked the 100-year anniversary of the settlement at Augšbebri. Thanks to Ķīlis’ initiative, a wide-ranging anniversary celebration was organized.

More active contact between Augšbebri and Latvia has taken place recently. A group from Juris Podnieks’ film studio visited the village in July 1997. Imants Daudišs (the Latvian ambassador to Russia) and Lauma Vlasova (the Republic of Latvia’s attaché on diaspora issues in Russia) visited in February 1999. “Baltie berzi”, a men’s choir from Valmiera visited Augšbebri in the summer of 2000. Many villagers also traveled to Latvia. Varavīksne went to Latvia again and participated in the 1998 and 2001 song festivals. In recent years, a family from Augšbebri is invited to participate in a 3×3 family camp in Latvia every summer.

One village in Siberia

The Latvian Ministry of Culture financed a filming expedition to the former Augšbebri, now Bobrovka, in the summer of 1997. The premier of the resulting film, “One Village in Siberia,” took place at the clubhouse in Augšbebri in late 2000. The film shows all aspects of life in the village—everyday work, households, free time, joys and sorrows—and also shows the villagers expressing themselves about the past, present and future. A feeling of respect, awe and love towards their hardy countrymen, who have been separated from their ethnic homeland for so long, emanates from the filmmakers throughout the film. In 2001 “One Village in Siberia” producer Vaira Strautniece received the “Lielais Kristaps” Latvian National Film Festival jury award for extensive research into the fate of the nation.

(Translated by Amanda Jātniece)

While most Latvian diaspora communities are thousands of kilometres from their ancestral homeland, Akmenė in Lithuania is almost within walking distance. Latvians have lived in and around this small town, just 20 kilometers from the current border, for two centuries.

The first settlers were farmers from Zemgale, Latvia’s southernmost province, who arrived in the early 1800s to buy cheap land. Although assimilation and Stalinist terror have reduced their numbers, today there are still 30 Latvian families in the town of 3,500, for a total of about 360 people in the Akmenė District. These are some of the roughly 4,700 Lithuanian citizens with the nationality “Latvian” written in their passports. Based on the number of out-of-country voters at the last Latvian parliamentary elections in 1998, the Latvian embassy in Vilnius estimates that there are additionally 120 citizens of Latvia residing in Lithuania.

Unlike their Catholic Lithuanian neighbours, the Latvians of Akmenė still observe the Lutheran faith of their ancestors. A wooden Lutheran church was erected in 1829 in the village of Alkiškiai, 7 km from Akmenė, and a stone one built in its place in 1841 is still used for services. A cemetery adjacent to the church contains numerous Latvian names and inscriptions. One of the headstones is dedicated to Edvīns Švāģeris, a parish priest who served seven Latvian parishes along the border, even under Soviet rule, until his death in 2001. Today, a Latvian minister from Kaunas, Lithuania’s second city, makes frequent visits.

The Latvians in Akmenė say that before the war there was a thriving community based around the Alkiškiai church, which supported two choirs and two Latvian societies. There were even two Latvian schools that closed when the teachers were shipped off to Siberia in 1951. The local people were successful farmers, a quality that brought tragedy for many of them during the mass deportations of 1949. Some hid with relations in Latvia to escape persecution, while others who returned from Siberia were banned from resettling in their old homes. Others moved to Latvia after the war because life there was more orderly than in Lithuania, say the locals, leading to a sharp reduction in the numbers of Latvians.

Life is not easy today either. During the Soviet era, several factories making cement and construction materials provided a relatively high standard of living, but the closure of these plants after independence has led to high unemployment.

These economic worries make it hard for Akmenė residents to travel to Latvia. They are especially annoyed at rules forcing them to buy insurance every time they cross the border. Furthermore, they complain that while the Lithuanian government builds houses, sends teachers and help its co-nationals living in Latvia in other ways, Rīga doesn’t do much for its own people. They would like a Latvian teacher to visit them at least occasionally.

Despite these frustrations, the community is still active. Unlike Lithuanians, the Latvians celebrate Jāņi (Midsummer’s Eve) and enjoy singing Latvian songs. The local council gives them free use of two rooms in a community centre where books, maps of Latvia and other items demonstrating the pride they have in their origins are displayed. Several hundred Latvians come together at the annual kapu svētki, the day for the remembrance of the deceased, at Alkiškiai. While intermarriage with Lithuanians has been taking place for at least two generations, some young people in their 20s and 30s still speak Latvian, although their own children may be assimilated.

This process is reflected in the life story of Valda Pliuskienė. Her grandmother and mother moved from Rīga to live with relatives in Akmenė during World War I, while her father, who was born in Auce in Zemgale, joined his family in Akmenė before 1914. Pliuskienė married a Lithuanian, and while her son Tomas Pliuskys speaks Latvian, he thinks of himself as a Lithuanian. Only one of Pliuskienė’s four grandchildren speaks Latvian.

Nevertheless, the community still maintains contacts with its ethnic homeland. Choirs and folklore groups from Dobele, a town in southern Latvia, often visit Akmenė to give performances. The Akmenė Latvians also have strong ties with their compatriots in Klaipeda, Joniškis, Kaunas, Vilnius and elsewhere in Lithuania. And they show off their Latvian language and culture at festivals in the local district.

It seems likely that this southern Latvian outpost will be around for a while yet.

Minneapolis is the largest city in the state of Minnesota, while St. Paul is the capital. Together they are known as the Twin Cities, although the region includes many other communities. In all, about half of the state’s almost 5.2 million inhabitants live in the Twin Cities area.

The number of Twin Cities residents with at least some Latvian ancestry was estimated in the 2000 census at 2,199. Like many other Latvian communities in North America, the number of people who strongly identify with their Latvian heritage has been declining. Yet the Latvian community is still big enough to support a Lutheran congregation, a number of fraternities and sororities, the TEIKSMA folk music ensemble, an active sports group, a weekend language school, and other groups and activities.

‘Old Latvians’ in the Twin Cities

The first Latvians in Twin Cities arrived about 1908, some from the rural colony in Lincoln County, Wis., others perhaps coming directly from the East Coast in hopes of finding work in the area’s railroads and mills. The early Latvians in the Twin Cities were in the majority political radicals. Most lived close to what today is downtown Minneapolis.

The first two organizations formed here were local branches of the Socialist Party (in 1908) and the Socialist Labor Party (in 1909). The latter folded by 1912, while members of the Socialist Party local by 1920 were among those Latvian immigrants who aligned themselves with the more radical Communist movement.

Perhaps the best known of the early Latvian immigrants in Minnesota was Charles Dirba, who eventually moved to Chicago, California and New York and became a leading official in the Communist Party USA.

Among other early arrivals was John Effert (Jānis Eferts). Forced to flee the Russian empire after helping to organize an uprising of soldiers, Effert moved to Minneapolis in 1909. He worked for a local railroad company and was killed in November 1911 when a pile fell on him. Effert is buried in the Minneapolis Soldiers and Pioneers Cemetery, his gravestone engraved with the Socialist Party logo.

The Minneapolis Latvian Communist organization, known officially as the Minneapolis Latvian Education Society, served primarily as a social organization and continued to operate until at least 1932.

Minneapolis also had a little-known Latvian aid society called the Minneapolis Lettish W.P.B. The organization was incorporated in 1917, according to government records.

Better known was a later immigrant, John D. Akerman, whose research into aeronautics earned him international recognition. A building on the campus of the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis is named in his honor.

Displaced Persons arrive

Before the end of World War II, the Latvian population in the Twin Cities never exceeded more than a couple hundred. But as in many colonies, the number grew as the Displaced Persons began arriving. By the early 1950s, the Latvian Ev.-Lutheran Church of Minneapolis and St. Paul (1951) was operating, as were a Latvian school, several fraternities and sororities, choirs and a theatre troupe. Latvian DPs who had been sponsored by rural families in the region eventually found work and homes in the Twin Cities, adding to the growing population. Many were helped by DPs who secured an early firm footing, such as the late Ēriks Dundurs, who helped run a temporary residence for Latvian transplants.

“Pērkonītis” (Little Thunder), a folk dance ensemble, was formed in October 1950 and performed for the first time on Nov. 18 that same year. Into the mid-1960s, according to founding member Harijs Saukants, up to 50 dancers performed with the group. The ensemble still is active today, its membership bolstered by recent arrivals from Latvia.

The Minnesota branch of the Latvian Welfare Association “Daugavas Vanagi” was formed in 1952. The association’s theatre troupe was founded in 1957, but the troupe no longer is active.

The Twin Cities have a place in Latvian-American sports history, hosting the first national basketball and volleyball competition in 1954. The “Starts” Sports Association of Minneapolis continues to actively train and compete.

The 1970s proved to be somewhat tumultuous for Latvian Lutherans in the Twin Cities. A split over various issues resulted in part of the congregation of the Latvian Ev.-Lutheran Church of Minneapolis and St. Paul leaving and, in 1972, forming the smaller Christ Latvian Ev.-Lutheran Church. But in 1978, another congregation, the Jesus Latvian Ev.-Lutheran Church, reunited with the larger congregation from which it had split in 1962. The Christ Latvian church merged back with the original congregation following the death of its longtime pastor, the Rev. Modris Gulbis.

Minneapolis was home to the illustrated Latvian magazine TILTS, published by the late Uģis Skrastiņš. Many of the magazine’s and Skrastiņš’ personal records are now housed in the Immigration History Research Center at the University of Minnesota, as are a number of collections pertaining to both the pre- and post-World War II Latvian migration to the United States. Skrastiņš also was known as the publisher of many books, rivaling the efforts of New York-based Grāmatu Draugs.

The late Arvīds Eglītis, meanwhile, ran a print shop that also published the women’s magazine, Latvju Sieviete. The annual academic journal Akadēmiskā Dzīve, for years based in Minneapolis, saw its publishing operations transferred to Rīga in 2001.

Other Latvians of note who have called the Twin Cities home include the painter Jānis Kalmīte (known for his many variations of barn landscapes), the writer Knūts Lesiņš and the actress Laila Robiņa. The late astronomer Kārlis Kaufmanis of the University of Minnesota for many years enchanted audiences with his Chrismastime “Star of Bethlehem” presentation.

As in other communities and in Latvia itself, music is an important part of cultural life. Minneapolis boasts one of the longest running folk music ensembles in North America, TEIKSMA, formed more than 30 years ago. Led by Elga Pone, the group has released three albums and has traveled throughout the United States and Canada, to Latvia and to South America to perform. Four of TEIKSMA’s members also have their own group, Lini, which has released two albums.

Since Latvia regained its independence in 1991, a trickle of new immigrants, students and temporary workers such as au pairs have come to the Twin Cities.

They and the older generations of Latvians in the Twin Cities continue to maintain their ethnic identity, although the scope is much narrower than in earlier years. Community efforts now are directed by the Latviešu organizāciju apvienība Minesotā (LOAM), an umbrella group formed in 2002 that coordinates events among 14 various groups. Since the Latvian House in northeast Minnepaolis was sold in 2006 for USD 600,000, community life now is centered on the church in south Minneapolis. Besides the church and its Saturday school, TEIKSMA, Pērkonītis and the Daugavas Vanagi, active organizations include the sports club, a credit union, a Catholic group, a concert association, and several fraternities and sororities.

Latvian landmarks

Besides the Akerman Building on the university campus, two other architectural landmarks are the former Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis building and Dania Hall. The former Federal Reserve building in downtown Minneapolis, noted because of its unusual “suspension bridge: design, was created by Latvian-American architect Gunnar Birkerts. The historic Dania Hall (1886) in Minneapolis’ West Bank district was the site of many Socialist meetings, dances and theater performances for the Old Latvian immigrants before World War II. Sadly, the building was destroyed in a fire in early 2000.

While not architecturally significant, the Latvian Ev.-Lutheran Church of Minneapolis and St. Paul does have historical interest. The church was purchased from a Norwegian Lutheran congregation. And, in a rare link to the Old Latvians of the Upper Midwest, the bell in the church tower comes from the now-demolished Latvian church in Lincoln County, Wis. That church, dedicated in 1906, was the first church built by Latvians in North America.