During Jāņi, we’re in for a very long night

Amanda Jātniece | 

In Latvia it’s easy to do. The night there is only a few hours long. But here where I live, even though the night is definitely shorter this time of year, it’s still dark for a good seven hours. Add on to that the fact that Jāņi celebrations here usually begin soon after dinner and it makes for a really long night: “You mean I’m supposed to stay awake for the whole thing?!” I’ll admit, I haven’t been able to do it for several years now.

According to Latvian tradition, those who sleep on Midsummer night (Jāņi) are doomed to sleep the whole summer—in other words, be lazy. Still to this day Jāņi is the biggest celebration of the year for Latvians, leaving in its shadow even Christmas. Originally a fertility festival, Jāņi marks the longest day and the shortest night of the year: the summer solstice. Astronomically speaking, the solstice usually falls on the 21st of June, but Latvians tend to celebrate on the night from June 23rd to the 24th. The 24th is the “names day” of all men named Jānis, hence Jāņi. The celebration is often called Līgosvētki (the 23rd is the “names day” for Līga), although Jāņi (Jāņudiena, Jāņunakts) is the older and therefore more traditional name, even though the proper name Jānis itself is most likely not Latvian in origin.

Latvians traditionally spent an awful lot of time preparing for Jāņi: cleaning, cooking, finishing farmwork, fixing up the yard, weeding the garden, washing clothes, decorating, brewing beer, etc. Think how crazy Americans become after Thanksgiving.

Once Jāņi arrived people often went from farm to farm, visiting neighbors and friends, singing and bringing with them good luck for the fields and cattle. Grass supposedly grows better in those places where līgotāji (those who sing “līgo,”  the typical refrain of Jāņi songs) have gone. That’s why they tried to walk past all of the fields. The hosts offered caraway cheese, pīrāgi and beer. A barrel full of tar was set on a pole and lit. Next to that blazed the bonfire. The fires were kept burning all night long so they would bring a good harvest to the fields and good health to the people. It was thought that the fields would be prosperous as far as the light from the fires shone, and that’s why hills were the optimal place for a Jāņi celebration, because the light shone farther from the higher elevation.

People still light bonfires and barrels of tar, eat cheese, pīrāgi and beer, and spend the night dancing and singing, laughing and visiting. The songs still often become teasing, obnoxious and risque, but no one takes lasting offence—it is a friendly and socially acceptable way to air grievances about others: “Pēteris is a lazy good-for-nothing!” “Kārlis has a long nose!” “Uldis lost his wife tonight!” “The girls are foolish for not letting me kiss them!” “Mārīte is round as a barrel!” etc. Every once in a while a young couple might wander off, supposedly in search of the mythical fern blossom. Of course, ferns don’t bloom, but who says you can’t look for it anyway!

Because all of nature is in full bloom at this time of year, flowers and grasses play a big part in the festivities. Many people carry tall grasses in their arms. Everything, including cattle and keyholes, is decorated with garlands, flowers and grasses. Jāņi is the best time of year to collect medicinal herbs—they’re said to be strongest then. All of the men and boys wear huge wreaths of oak leaves on their heads (the oak is the male symbol), while all women and girls wear wreaths of flowers. Because at other times during the year wreaths were traditionally worn only by unmarried women (married women wore scarves), no one knows at Jāņi just who is married and who isn’t; this tradition undoubtedly reminds us that Jāņi originated as a fertility festival. Does the Latvian birthrate really jump in late March, nine months after Jāņi? So I’ve heard.

Friends ask why we keep those dried flowers and leaves hung on our front door all year long. Those are our Jāņi wreaths from last summer, and we will throw them on this year’s Jāņi bonfire in order to get rid of the past year’s troubles and to start this year anew.

Because solstices were considered magical times, girls would sometimes do small rituals right at midnight to try to find out whom and when they would marry. Dew collected early the next morning was considered medicinal for humans, would ensure plentiful milk if given to cows, and would even repel flies if rubbed on barn ceilings. Jāņi night was also a prime time for witches’ activities, both good and evil.

Jāņi songs are often everybody’s favorites. With more than 2,000 melody variations, there are more songs for Jāņi than any other Latvian holiday. They do not have set texts, but singers are expected to improvise texts as the festivities go along. The typical refrain is “līgo,” and the songs have a lot of repetition, so that everybody can join in the singing. It is appropriate to start singing Jāņi songs a few weeks before the festival, and maybe a week or so afterwards, but they are out of place any other time of year.

You’re sure to find a Jāņi celebration almost anywhere there are a handful of Latvians. Some resemble the traditional festivities, down to the teasing songs and decorated keyholes. Others, both in Latvia and elsewhere, are unfortunately more like keg parties and rock music festivals. But at least you can find the obligatory bonfire pretty much anywhere. And, of course, beer. Probably that mild yellow caraway cheese, too.

So, find out about the Jāņi celebrations in your area, and go out next week to celebrate this ancient holiday!

Midsummer bonfire

A bonfire is an essential part of a Jāņi celebration, whether in Latvia or in the diaspora, such as this one in Wisconsin in 1999. (Photo by Andris Straumanis)

No more Munichs, no more Yaltas

George W. Bush | 

It’s a great honor for me to visit this great city—a city that breathes with confidence, creativity and success of modern Poland. Like all nations, Poland still faces challenges. But I am confident you’ll meet them with the same optimistic spirit a visitor feels on Warsaw’s streets and sees in the city’s fast-changing skyline. We find evidence of this energy and enterprise surrounding us right now in this magnificent building. And you can hear it in the air. Today’s own—Poland’s orchestra called Golec’s—is telling the world, "on that wheat field, I’m gonna build my San Francisco; over that molehill, I’m gonna build my bank."

Americans recognize that kind of optimism and ambition—because we share it. We are linked to Poland by culture and heritage, kinship and common values.

Polish glass makers built and operated the New World’s first factory in Jamestown, Va., in 1608. Seeking the right to vote, those same Poles also staged the New World’s first labor strike. They succeeded. It seems the Poles have been keeping the world honest for a long period of time.

Some of the most courageous moments of the 20th century took place in this nation. Here, in 1943, the world saw the heroic effort and revolt of the Warsaw Ghetto; a year later, the 63 days of the Warsaw Uprising; and then the reduction of this city to rubble because it chose to resist evil.

Here communism was humbled by the largest citizens’ movement in history, and by the iron purpose and moral vision of a single man: Pope John Paul II. Here Polish workers, led by an electrician from Gdansk, made the sparks that would electrify half a continent. Poland revealed to the world that its Soviet rulers, however brutal and powerful, were ultimately defenseless against determined men and women armed only with their conscience and their faith.

Here you have proven that communism need not be followed by chaos, that great oppression can end in true reconciliation, and that the promise of freedom is stronger than the habit of fear.

In all these events, we have seen the character of the Polish people, and the hand of God in your history. Modern Poland is just beginning to contribute to the wealth of Europe—yet, for decades, you have contributed to Europe’s soul and spiritual strength. And all who believe in the power of conscience and culture are in your debt.

Today, I have come to the center of Europe to speak of the future of Europe. Some still call this "the East"—but Warsaw is closer to Ireland than it is to the Urals. And it is time to put talk of East and West behind us.

Yalta did not ratify a natural divide, it divided a living civilization. The partition of Europe was not a fact of geography, it was an act of violence. And wise leaders for decades have found the hope of European peace in the hope of greater unity. In the same speech that described an "iron curtain," Winston Churchill called for "a new unity in Europe, from which no nation should be permanently outcast."

Consider how far we have come since that speech. Through trenches and shell-fire, through death camps and bombed-out cities, through gulags and food lines men and women have dreamed of what my father called a Europe "whole and free." This free Europe is no longer a dream. It is the Europe that is rising around us. It is the work that you and I are called on to complete.

We can build an open Europe—a Europe without Hitler and Stalin, without Brezhnev and Honecker and Ceaucescu and, yes, without Milosevic.

Our goal is to erase the false lines—our goal is to erase the false lines that have divided Europe for too long. The future of every European nation must be determined by the progress of internal reform, not the interests of outside powers. Every European nation that struggles toward democracy and free markets and a strong civic culture must be welcomed into Europe’s home.

All of Europe’s new democracies, from the Baltic to the Black Sea and all that lie between, should have the same chance for security and freedom—and the same chance to join the institutions of Europe—as Europe’s old democracies have.

I believe in NATO membership for all of Europe’s democracies that seek it and are ready to share the responsibilities that NATO brings. The question of "when" may still be up for debate within NATO; the question of "whether" should not be. As we plan to enlarge NATO, no nation should be used as a pawn in the agendas of others. We will not trade away the fate of free European peoples. No more Munichs. No more Yaltas. Let us tell all those who have struggled to build democracy and free markets what we have told the Poles: from now on, what you build, you keep. No one can take away your freedom or your country.

Next year, NATO’s leaders will meet in Prague. The United States will be prepared to make concrete, historic decisions with its allies to advance NATO enlargement. Poland and America share a vision. As we plan the Prague Summit, we should not calculate how little we can get away with, but how much we can do to advance the cause of freedom.

The expansion of NATO has fulfilled NATO’s promise. And that promise now leads eastward and southward, northward and onward.

I want to thank Poland for acting as a bridge to the new democracies of Europe, and a champion of the interests and security of your neighbors, such as the Baltic states, Ukraine, Slovakia. You are making real the words: "For your freedom and ours."

All nations should understand that there is no conflict between membership in NATO and membership in the European Union. My nation welcomes the consolidation of European unity, and the stability it brings. We welcome a greater role for the EU in European security, properly integrated with NATO. We welcome the incentive for reform that the hope of EU membership creates. We welcome a Europe that is truly united, truly democratic, and truly diverse—a collection of peoples and nations bound together in purpose and respect, and faithful to their own roots.

The most basic commitments of NATO and the European Union are similar: democracy, free markets, and common security. And all in Europe and America understand the central lesson of the century past. When Europe and America are divided, history tends to tragedy. When Europe and America are partners, no trouble or tyranny can stand against us.

Our vision of Europe must also include the Balkans. Unlike the people of Poland, many people and leaders in Southeast Europe made the wrong choices in the last decade. There, communism fell, but dictators exploited a murderous nationalism to cling to power and to conquer new land. Twice NATO had to intervene militarily to stop the killing and defend the values that define a new Europe.

Today, instability remains and there are still those who seek to undermine the fragile peace that holds. We condemn those, like the sponsors of violence in Macedonia, who seek to subvert democracy. But we’ve made progress. We see democratic change in Zagreb and Belgrade; moderate governments in Bosnia; multi-ethnic police in Kosovo; the end to violence in southern Serbia. For the first time in history, all governments in the region are democratic, committed to cooperating with one another, and predisposed to join Europe.

Across the region, nations are yearning to be a part of Europe. The burdens—and benefits—of satisfying that yearning will naturally fall most heavily on Europe, itself. That is why I welcome Europe’s commitment to play a leading role in the stabilization of Southeastern Europe. Countries other than the United States already provide over 80 percent of the NATO-led forces in the region. But I know that America’s role is important, and we will meet our obligations. We went into the Balkans together, and we will come out together. And our goal must be to hasten the arrival of that day.

The Europe we are building must include Ukraine, a nation struggling with the trauma of transition. Some in Kiev speak of their country’s European destiny. If this is their aspiration, we should reward it. We must extend our hand to Ukraine, as Poland has already done with such determination.

The Europe we are building must also be open to Russia. We have a stake in Russia’s success—and we look for the day when Russia is fully reformed, fully democratic and closely bound to the rest of Europe. Europe’s great institutions—NATO and the European Union—can and should build partnerships with Russia and with all the countries that have emerged from the wreckage of the former Soviet Union.

Tomorrow, I will see President Putin, and express my hopes for a Russia that is truly great—a greatness measured by the strength of its democracy, the good treatment of minorities and the achievements of its people.

I will express to President Putin that Russia is part of Europe and, therefore, does not need a buffer zone of insecure states separating it from Europe. NATO, even as it grows, is no enemy of Russia. Poland is no enemy of Russia. America is no enemy of Russia. We will seek a constructive relationship with Russia, for the benefit of all our peoples.

I will make the case, as I have to all the European leaders I have met on this trip, that the basis for our mutual security must move beyond Cold War doctrines. Today, we face growing threats from weapons of mass destruction and missiles in the hands of states for whom terror and blackmail are a way of life. So we must have a broad strategy of active non-proliferation; counter-proliferation; and a new concept of deterrence that includes defenses sufficient to protect our people, our forces, and our allies; as well as reduced reliance on nuclear weapons.

And, finally, I’ll make clear to President Putin that the path to greater prosperity and greater security lies in greater freedom. The 20th century has taught us that only freedom gets the highest service from every citizen—citizens who can publish, citizens who can worship, citizens who can organize for themselves—without fear of intimidation, and with the full protection of the law.

This, after all, is the true source of European unity. Ultimately, it’s more than the unity of markets. It is more than the unity of interests. It is a unity of values.

Through a hard history, with all its precedents of pain, Europe has come to believe in the dignity of every individual: in social freedom, tempered by moral restraint; in economic liberty, balanced with humane values.

"The revolutions of 1989," said Pope John Paul II, "were made possible by the commitment of brave men and women inspired by a different, and ultimately more profound and powerful, vision:  the vision of man as a creature of intelligence and free will, immersed in a mystery which transcends his own being and endowed with the ability to reflect and the ability to choose—and thus capable of wisdom and virtue."

This belief successfully challenged communism. It challenges materialism in all its forms. Just as man cannot be reduced to a means of production, he must find goals greater than mere consumption. The European ideal is inconsistent with a life defined by gain and greed and the lonely pursuit of self. It calls for consideration and respect, compassion and forgiveness—the habits of character on which the exercise of freedom depends.

And all these duties, and all these rights are ultimately traced to a source of law and justice above our wills and beyond our politics—an author of our dignity, who calls us to act worthy of our dignity.

This belief is more than a memory, it is a living faith. And it is the main reason Europe and America will never be separated. We are products of the same history, reaching from Jerusalem and Athens to Warsaw and Washington. We share more than an alliance. We share a civilization. Its values are universal, and they pervade our history and our partnership in a unique way.

These trans-Atlantic ties could not be severed by U-boats. They could not be cut by checkpoints and barbed wire. They were not ended by SS-20s and nuclear blackmail. And they certainly will not be broken by commercial quarrels and political debates. America will not permit it. Poland will not allow it.

This unity of values and aspiration calls us to new tasks. Those who have benefitted and prospered most from the commitment to freedom and openness have an obligation to help others that are seeking their way along that path. That is why our trans-Atlantic community must have priorities beyond the consolidation of European peace.

We must bring peace and health to Africa—a neighbor to Europe, a heritage to many Americans, a continent in crisis, and a place of enormous potential. We must work together to shut down the arms trafficking that fuels Africa’s wars; fight the spread of AIDS that may make 40 million children into orphans; and help all of Africa share in the trade and promise of the modern world.

We must work toward a world that trades in freedom—a world where prosperity is available to all through the power of markets; a world where open trade spurs the process of economic and legal reform; a world of cooperation to enhance prosperity, protect the environment, and lift the quality of life for all.

We must confront the shared security threats of regimes that thrive by creating instability, that are ambitious for weapons of mass destruction, and are dangerously unpredictable. In Europe, you’re closer to these challenges than the United States. You see the lightning well before we hear the thunder. Only together, however, can we confront the emerging threats of a changing world.

Fifty years ago, all Europe looked to the United States for help. Ten years ago, Poland did, as well. Now, we and others can only go forward together. The question no longer is what others can do for Poland, but what America and Poland and all of Europe can do for the rest of the world.

In the early 1940s, Winston Churchill saw beyond a world war and a Cold War to a greater project: "Let the great cities of Warsaw and Prague and Vienna banish despair even in the midst of their agony," he said. "Their liberation is sure. The day will come when the joy bells will ring again throughout Europe, and when victorious nations, masters not only of their foes but of themselves, will plan and build in justice, in tradition, and in freedom a house of many mansions where there will be room for all."

To his contemporaries who lived in a Europe of division and violence, this vision must have seemed unimaginable. Yet, our fathers—yours and mine—struggled and sacrificed to make this vision real. Now it is within our grasp. Today, a new generation makes a new commitment: a Europe and an America bound in a great alliance of liberty—history’s greatest united force for peace and progress and human dignity. The bells of victory have rung. The Iron Curtain is no more. Now, we plan and build the house of freedom—whose doors are open to all of Europe’s peoples and whose windows look out to global challenges beyond. Our progress is great, our goals are large, and our differences, in comparison, are small. And America, in calm and in crisis, will honor this vision and the values we share.

Poland, in so many ways, is a symbol of renewal and common purpose. More than half a century ago, from this spot, all one could see was a desert of ruins. Hardly did a single unbroken brick touch another. This city had been razed by the Nazis and betrayed by the Soviets. Its people were mostly displaced.

Not far from here is the only monument which survived. It is the figure of Christ falling under the cross and struggling to rise. Under him are written the words: "Sursum corda"—"lift up your hearts."

From the determination in Polish hearts, Warsaw did rise again, brick by brick. Poland has regained its rightful place at the heart of a new Europe and is helping other nations to find their own.

"Lift up your hearts" is the story of Poland. "Lift up your hearts" is the story of a new Europe. And, together, let us raise this hope of freedom for all who seek it in our world.

God bless.

Dievturi record album of seasonal songs

Andris Straumanis | 

Slapping the back of a guitar didn’t sound right. Tapping on the back of a kokle didn’t sound right, either. But pounding on a door was perfect, providing a deep, resounding “boom!” to punctuate the Mārtiņi folksong, “Kas dimd, kas rīb?”

And that’s what listeners may hear when they play a new album of traditional Latvian seasonal songs. The album, supported by the Latvian Church Dievturi and recorded by a group of singers and musicians from the American Midwest, should be ready this autumn.

Dievturi and friends from Illinois, Minnesota and Wisconsin gathered during the Memorial Day weekend May 26-28 for their second recording session in five months at Dievsēta, a Latvian-owned property near the small, rural Wisconsin community of Warrens. Dievturība is a Latvian folk religion that finds its wisdom in the dainas, which are often expressed in song.

“For years the people at Dievsēta have been talking about making a recording of the seasonal songs that we sing at Dievsēta at the different celebrations year-round,” explained project coordinator Zinta Pone of Minneapolis.

Several dozen songs may appear on the album, which is to be available in both compact disc and cassette format. The album initially was meant as a resource for Latvian schools, but its appeal could well be broader.

“People are interested in knowing what songs to sing at different times of the year,” Pone said, “as they are teaching about other traditions for the holidays. The education element is still primary, but we are going to sell the album to the general public. It should be entertaining for everybody.”

About five to 10 songs for each of the traditional seasons are expected to be included in the album, Pone said. “We don’t know yet if it will all fit on one album,” she added.

“Maybe we will divide the year over two albums. There are many people who are not familiar with specific seasonal songs, and we feel it is important to have recordings available so that these songs are not forgotten.” The album is to include printed lyrics and descriptions of the seasonal celebrations.

The singers and musicians who have participated in the two recording sessions number about 20. Songs have been performed solo, by duets and by large groups. Traditional instruments such as kokle, drums, accordian and trīdeksnis—as well as spur-of-the-moment innovations like the door—are used to complement the voices of the singers.

Manning the recording equipment is Atis Freimanis of Washington state, who—along with microphones and a mixer—flew to the Midwest during the winter solstice celebration and again during Memorial Day. Pone and other members of the folk group Lini met Freimanis during a concert trip to the West Coast. “Atis agreed to come to Wisconsin and record these seasonal songs,” Pone said.

Pone’s mother, Elga (leader of the Minneapolis-based folk ensemble Teiksma), and her cousin, Amanda Jātniece (like Zinta Pone, a member of both Teiksma and Lini), helped pick out songs and develop instrumentations and harmonies, she explained. “I did a homemade solo recording of the melodies, which I sent to the participants along with copies of the music and words. That helped them refresh their memories or become familiar with some of the songs before arriving in Dievsēta to record.”

During the recording sessions, the singers and musicians relied on Freimanis to guide them. “He was listening for the best possible sound and advised us of how many takes we should do of each song, played the recording back for our judgment and input and also offered ideas on how to make the songs more diverse and interesting to listen to,” Pone said.

“I think this was a great opportunity for the participants to experience professional recording and to feel an important part in a big project that will be enjoyed by people all around the world,” Pone said. “There is much, much enthusiasm behind the singing.”

Dievsēta singers

Singers from Illinois, Minnesota and Wisconsin record a Latvian folk song during a recent session at Dievsēta in rural Wisconsin. (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.