Placenames may reveal Latvian ancestry

Thousands of tourists are streaming to the real Rīga this year as Latvia’s capital city celebrates its 800th anniversary. Those who can’t make the trip to Latvia might try searching for the Rīgas, or Rigas (without the diacritical mark), in their backyards.

Several places with the name of Rīga can be found in the United States, not to mention other Latvian-sounding sites such as Livonia or Baltic. And the United States isn’t alone: Similar sites can be found in Canada and Australia.

The Web offers online placename databases for several countries that can be used to find the spots.

Perhaps the best digital resource in the United States is the Geographic Names Information System, run by the U.S. Geological Survey. A search of the database for “Riga” turned up places or geographic objects in Connecticut, Kansas, Michigan, Missouri, New York, North Dakota and Virginia. The database is linked to Microsoft’s TerraServer database, allowing users to see USGS topographic maps and, in many cases, aerial images of places.

The places with Rīga in their name include:

  • A lake, a dam and a mountain in Litchfield County is western Connecticut. The mountain, Mount Riga, also is claimed by New York’s Dutchess County, which also has a Riga Lake.
  • A populated place in Trego County in Kansas.
  • A township, cemetery and a canal in Lenawee County in Michigan.
  • A populated place in Ripley County in Missouri.
  • A township and a school in North Dakota’s McHenry County.
  • A town in Monroe County in New York.
  • And a stream in Virginia’s Orange County.

But the database doesn’t reveal much if anything about the history of these places. While most of the places in North America that have names suggesting some tie to Latvia probably have little connection, a few do.

For example, Riga is a small town in the western New York’s Monroe County, southwest of Rochester. Established in 1808 in the breakup of the larger Town of Northhampton, the community historical committee on its Web site reveals nothing about why Riga was chosen as the name. Even documents such as J.H. French’s 1860 Historical and Statistical Gazetteer of New York State shed little light.

Another Riga, in southeastern Michigan’s Lenawee County, is a lightly populated spot where “For Sale” signs appear frequently. A visit to the community’s cemetery reveals that the town has been home for people of German ethnicity. The town also in 1990 was briefly considered for a low-level radioactive waste disposal facility, but was removed from a list of potential sites after it successfully sued the state of Michigan.

"Riga" placenames also are found in Canada and Australia.

Libau, a community in Canada’s province of Manitoba, does have links to Latvian history. The community, on the south end of Lake Winnipeg, is where a group of Latvian immigrants settled in the early 20th century to take up farming. Libau is the German name for the port city of Liepāja.

To the east of Manitoba’s Libau, on Lac du Bonnet, is Lettonia Bay. The community of Lac du Bonnet, southwest of the lake, was home to Latvian immigrants in the early 20th century.

According to Geomatics Canada, the province of Quebec is home to a Lac Riga and to a Lac de Riga. And in Ontario, near Sudbury, there’s a Riga Lake.

The South Australian State Gazetteer’s online version reports a homestead called Riga Downs.

Livonia is the name of the province that became part of modern Latvia. Quite a few Livonias can be found in the United States in Indiana, Louisiana, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, New York and Pennsylvania. But again, the story of why a place was named Livonia isn’t always clear. And when it is, the trail may not point back to Latvian ancestry.

For example, Livonia Township in Minnesota’s Sherburne County, northwest of the Twin Cities metropolitan area, apparently has little to do with the province. It was named instead for the wife of a judge who settled in the area in 1864, according to the Minnesota Historical Society.

The same is true for Baltic. In many cases, the naming of a place as Baltic-something probably has more to do with seafaring or with other lands that touch on the Baltic Sea.

Riga, Michigan

An abandoned building in Riga, a small community in southeastern Michigan, bears a welcoming sign. The town is among the places in the United States with a name that suggests a Latvian connection. (Photo by Andris Straumanis)

Andris Straumanis is a special correspondent for and a co-founder of Latvians Online. From 2000–2012 he was editor of the website.

A primer on Latvian folk instruments

Although it is always the kokle that first comes to mind when talking about Latvian folk instruments, it is by far not the only one. Here, a brief overview of Latvian musical instruments.

Percussion instruments

Worldwide, percussion instruments are considered the oldest instruments. Most characteristic of the Latvian percussion instruments is the trideksnis (rattle stick), a short wooden handle with small metal pieces attached in rows around one end of the handle. The player shakes the trideksnis like a rattle or hits the handle against his or her other palm, which causes the metal pieces to jingle. Large rattle sticks, called velna bungas (literally, "devil’s drum"), are about 4 feet to 5 feet long and are struck against the floor. The eglīte, or bell tree, is a small spruce tree with the top branches folded down and tied to the center stem, with all sorts of bells, trinkets and decorations attached.

Although there is virtually no archaeological evidence of drums (bungas) in Latvia, it is known from the oral tradition and from historical writings that they were used as signal instruments—to signal a wedding party’s arrival, for example—and also played to accompany dance music.

Bells (zvani) had both a musical and a practical purpose (for example, to keep track of cows) and, though sometimes made of metal, were more commonly made of wood, which was much more plentiful in Latvia. Other percussion instruments include the triangle (trijstūris), buzzer (dūcenis), washboard (robdēlis), tambourine (sietiņš or bubins), and vargans, or Jew’s harp.

Wind instruments

The simplest and oldest of the wind instruments were the whistles (svilpes), which had at most one or two sound holes. They were made of bone, horn, shells, animal teeth, bark and clay. A specialty of Latgale to this day are clay whistles in the form of horses, birds and dragons (svilpaunieki). Stabules (recorders, reeds, flutes) have several sound holes and are made of bark, reeds or bone, but most often of wood. Both svilpes and stabules were favorite playthings of shepherds.

The ganu rags (literally, "shepherds’ horn") is basically a modified stabule. It is made of wood, but with an animal horn attached to enhance the sound. This clarinet-like instrument produces sound with a single reed. Unfortunately it is not heard all that often today. The somas dūkas or dūdas (bagpipe) has been played in Latvia since about the 16th century. It was usually made of sheep’s or goat’s skin, but sometimes even of seal’s or dog’s skin. The bagpipe was and still is a popular instrument, especially for dance and wedding music.

In Latvian, a horn or trumpet made of wood or bark is called a taure, while one made of actual horn is called a rags. Both were considered shepherds’ and young men’s instruments, played to pass the time in the fields, to signal the beginning and end of work, or when lots of noise was needed, such as during wedding celebrations and certain holidays.

Stringed instruments

The stringed instruments are generally more recent. Spēles and pūšļa vijole are primitive instruments that are hardly used anymore. Spēles looks like a hunting bow that is either plucked or a second bow is pulled across the string to produce sound. The player can bend the frame to change its pitch. Pūšļa vijole (literally, "bladder fiddle") is basically a string attached to a wooden base with a blown-up animal bladder acting as a resonator between the base and string. Again, sound is produced by pulling a bow across the string.

The ģīga (trough-fiddle) has a mysterious past—no one really knows where the instrument or its name came from or how old it is. It’s assumed that it is probably related to a similar instrument that was popular in Sweden in the mid-19th century. Also called vienstīdzis or divstīdzis (one-string or two-string), the ģīga is a long, rectangular (about 2 feet to 3 feet long, and 4 inches to 6 inches wide) hollow wooden box with one or two strings attached to the top. It is played horizontally on a table or lap, or less often held vertically, and played with a bow.

And the kokle… That best known of Latvian folk instruments and idyllic symbol of Latvian folk music. Its gentle strums evoke golden memories for most older Latvians, and it is not rare to find a kokle displayed on a prominent shelf in living rooms.

Although a very old instrument, the kokle is still played a lot and holds a special place of honor among Latvians, as well as Lithuanians (kankles), Estonians (kannele) and Finns (kantele). The zither-like instrument is a whittled-out wooden box with a thin wooden cover with sounding holes, often cut in beautiful patterns. Strings are strung across the top of the box in a ray form, that is, strung almost parallel to each other, but closer together on one end, wider apart on the other end. Each string is tuned to a different note in the scale. The oldest kokles have five strings, later versions up to 17 or even 23 strings. Modern "concert" kokles span three octaves and are able to play in all keys. The kokle is usually held in the player’s lap or set on a table, but sometimes it is hung around the player’s neck. Modern concert versions of the kokle are so huge that they must be placed on a stand in front of the player. With the left hand the player silences the strings he or she does not want to hear, while the right hand strums the remaining strings, forming the appropriate chords. Players sometimes also pick separate strings to accentuate melodies. The kokle was and is still used for all sorts of music and purposes.

Modern instruments

The accordion (akordeons), button-accordion (garmoška), violin (vijole), the cītara (chord-zither or dulcimer) or cimbole (cimbalom) are some of the more modern instruments that have made their way from other cultures into Latvian folk music and have found there a very welcome home. Both the accordion and the violin are heavily used to accompany Latvian songs and dances. The cītara is a mid-19th century introduction to Latvian folk music and has taken on a very prominent role in most rural ensembles (lauku kapelas), particularly in the eastern half of the country. The cimbole—similar to the cītara, it is trapezoid in shape and is played with two wooden mallets—is most often found in the southeast corner of Latvia near Belarus and is very similar to the Belorussian national folk instrument.

Now you’ll be able to recognize and know more about what you’re hearing the next time you pull out that folk recording!

Readjusting the school merry-go-round

Why jump on the Latvian school merry-go-round? In a some parts of the United States, Canada and Australia, as well as a few cities in the United Kingdom and Sweden, kids of Latvian descent—several hundred, maybe, in total—still attend Latvian Saturday or Sunday schools to learn the language and culture of their parents and grandparents.

Why? Their parents—who were, for the most part, born outside Latvia in the 1950s to the 1970s—still consider this a priority and are prepared to make the commitment of devoting their childrens’ (and their own) days off to this cause.

But why? Each parent has an individual answer to this question. The collective reason, however, is no longer a united one. Latvia is now a free country. Anyone of Latvian descent is now free to move to Latvia and raise their children there. No one will stop you. But many of us still remain in the countries where we were born, yet we want to raise our kids with the language and culture of our forefathers.

Gone are the days when stepping on the "Latvian carousel" was carried out as a duty to the homeland that was oppressed by the Soviets, when learning the language and culture was a "natural" thing: most of your friends and relatives were Latvian, and teaching the kids about their parents’ homeland seemed logical and important.

This present generation of parents now sending their children to Latvian school was born in the United States, Canada, Australia, the United Kingdoom, Germany or Sweden. For many, their Latvian identity was a small part of their whole persona. They were raised with the values of their country of birth. They, on the whole, spent most of their time with friends from their local school and, later on, their work community. They have married either local non-Latvians or have spouses of Latvian descent but who also were not born in Latvia.

Yet, some of these devoted 30- and 40-something Latvians around the world still wish to continue to devote part of their weekends to Latvian activities. The strange sense of "duty" is still there, but in varying degrees, of course. What is this duty to? Sometimes to their parents. They feel they would have let their kids’ grandparents down if they don’t make some sort of attempt at sending them to school. Some hope the school will teach them something because it’s difficult at home. Often, if their spouse does not speak the language, their children feel more comfortable and find it much easier speaking the language of the country of their birth. Others want to pass on the language and culture of their forefathers to their children. And still others can’t imagine not sending them to Latvian school because that’s what they had to do, so that’s what their kids are going to have to do, too!

After all, Latvian is not a language that parents would naturally choose as one that could be beneficial to their child and come in handy when travelling or for doing business in their future career. Nor is it considered as one of the classical languages, like Latin or ancient Greek.

What, then, should these children be learning at Latvian school, bearing in mind that we’re talking about a few (at the most four) hours per week?

The old school of teaching says we should teach Latvian grammar, literature, geography, history, and a smattering of folklore (songs, dancing, traditions).

Is this sort of a curriculum still relevant to second- and third-generation Latvian children born and living outside Latvia? Is the same style of teaching that we were brought up with on Saturday or Sunday mornings still an effective way of teaching the language and culture?

I would argue that the curriculum should reflect the changed perception of Latvia held by the parents, pupils and those teaching the language.

What is these kids’ perception of Latvia? They don’t have parents (or even grandparents) who can share with them their experiences of life in "Ulmaņa Latvija" (Latvia when it was led by Kārlis Ulmanis in the 1930s) and in their minds be able to conjure up the romantic or sentimental longing for a "fatherland." The parents and grandparents of this generation of children have a more objective view of Latvia based on either personal trips to Latvia in the past 10 years or news about life in Latvia today gleaned from printed and online media, as well as other travellers. And if there is a small group of grandparents who were children in Latvia before they emigrated during the Second World War and who still remember the Latvia of the 1930s, then more often than not, they have visited Latvia in the past decade and have a realistic view of Latvia today.

This current generation going through Latvian schools outside Latvia is:

  • vastly different to previous generations in terms of upbringing, expectations, knowledge about their Latvian heritage and the Latvian language, and blood nationality (many of these children are born into families where one parent is not Latvian). This means that merely using the textbooks used by Latvian children 20 or 30 years ago would not be the most effective way of teaching this subject.
  • vastly different to the generation of schoolchildren currently going through the education system in Latvia. This means that the educational methods employed in Latvia today cannot be simply transferred to the schools that are teaching the language and culture outside Latvia. And merely buying textbooks used in Latvia and presuming that these by themselves will solve all teaching problems would not suffice.

What to do?

First, teach the language (ideally, where resources permit, at two separate levels: to those who already speak Latvian in a home environment and to those who do not), incorporating the wide variety of resources available from Latvia today: books, magazines, newspapers, audio tapes, CDs, videos and anything else that teachers can utilise to make their lessons more interesting. A wealth of resources is available. It only takes a bit of organising to get them sent to your city. The literary classics should be taught to the children, bearing in mind their understanding of the language. If their understanding is limited it would be much more beneficial to create an interest in the written word by introducing other, more easily digestible literature, rather than forcing them to read works that will only create resentment within the children.

Second, teach the culture. This is an integral part of the process of learning to identify oneself as a Latvian. Give the children an understanding about the rich cultural traditions that they have inherited from their ancestors—folksongs, folkdances, festivals, traditions—and teach them to admire the uniqueness of this culture. This part of their education should be a particularly "fun" part. Most of the folklore can be taught in a hands-on way to really bring home the concepts and understand that the folklore was all tied in with the lifestyle and world view of their ancestors.

Third, teach the history. An important part of being Latvian is understanding what Latvians have gone through in the past, knowledge that can help one understand Latvia’s current trials and tribulations. The history should be taught, if possible, not through textbooks, but through literature, art, videos, personal documents and oral history.

Fourth, create opportunities for children to participate in activities where the whole school takes part. By feeling that they are part of a whole community, not just a single class or just their family, they hopefully will grow to enjoy the experiences they have had with "the Latvians," not just base their judgment on the classroom experience. Latvian summer camps play a major role in this process.

And, fifth, create opportunities for children to visit Latvia, if only for short periods of time. This will consolidate all they have learnt, and meeting with Latvians from Latvia (particularly children) would make the "Latvian experience" much more tangible and give a greater sense of purpose to the learning process.

Emphasis should be placed on learning everything in a fun way. Don’t forget that at their weekday schools children are taught subjects with a wide variety of audiovisual materials. Why not make use of every possible Latvian resource you can lay your hands on to make the learning process memorable and fun? Unfortunately, it’s not possible to use Latvian computer games as resources as they are hard to come by. However, teachers could alert their pupils to the fact that the Internet opens the door to hundreds of Latvian Web sites, some of which would be quite interesting to the children. Why not make use of the Internet as the basis for a research project? The kids would be surprised and delighted with what they can find!

I must stress that this is my personal opinion, based on my experiences within the Latvian community in Australia. I have attended Latvian Saturday school from age four to matriculation level. And I now have a five-year-old daughter who has just started attending Latvian school on a weekly basis on Saturday afternoons.

What is your view? Do you agree with this? Or do you have any other suggestions? What was your experience in the Latvian language schools of the 1950s, ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s and even 1990s? Are you currently teaching in a Latvian school outside Latvia? Do you have any teaching tips or successful methods you would like to share with others? By pooling our ideas together and learning from each other we can find better solutions to age-old problems and make our trip on the merry-go-round a bit smoother.

Daina Gross is editor of Latvians Online. An Australian-Latvian she is also a migration researcher at the University of Latvia, PhD from the University of Sussex, formerly a member of the board of the World Federation of Free Latvians, author and translator/ editor/ proofreader from Latvian into English of an eclectic mix of publications of different genres.