ABIKS IDAEUROOPLASE INKUBEERIJALE

Lääne munad

“Miks me ei tohi olla uhked, et meil oli nõukogude impeerium?” küsis Aleksandr Lukashenko 2012. aastal ühes intervjuus. Tahtsin selle lause kirjutada suurelt pihustivärviga Berliinis Mühlenstrassel asuvale East Side Gallery seinale, mis on kuulus vanade, klassikaks kujunenud maalingute poolest. Näiteks on seal Dimitri Vrubeli teos “Mu jumal, aita mul see surmav armastus üle elada”, mis kujutab Brezhnevi ja Honeckeri suudlust, ning Birgit Kinderi kuulus pilt, mis kujutab müürist läbi kihutavat Trabanti. See paik on tuntud turistiatraktsioon, mis toidab Berliini nostalgiatööstust. Mõistagi on sel nostalgial omad piirid – kõnealune müür on mitmekordselt restaureeritud mäluobjekt, mitte vaba, tänavakunstile mõeldud platvorm, nagu esialgu tunduda võib. Sellega on müür ideoloogiliselt monopoliseeritud ning kõneleb eelkõige sellest, et peale müüri langemist on hakatud seda inimestele tükkhaaval maha müüma. Lukasheno tsitaadis näis aga olevat midagi, mis ületas kõik need lääneliku nostalgia piirid, mida Berliinis kohtab. See oli sõnum ühiskonnast, mida on raske pidada “endiseks Idaks”, mida üks osa Berliinist endast kujutab. Igatahes, kui ma värvipurkidega müüri äärde jõudsin, oli see politsei poolt sisse piiratud ning eemal ootasid suured bussid märulipolitseinikega. Selgus, et kohe on algamas suur demonstratsioon linna ja kinnisvaraarendajate vastu, kes tahavad Spree äärde kortermaja ehitada ning selleks tarbeks müürist üht tükki välja võtta. Minu plaan nurjus, ent tänavaprotestist osavõtt oli muljetavaldav. Kohal oli näiteks David Hasselhoff, kes 1989. aastal laulis langeva müüri ääres kohatult oma juhmi lugu “Looking for freedom” ja tegi nüüd sama, et toda vabadust manifesteerivat müürijuppi üleval hoida. Mina aga tundsin end selles seltskonnas võõrana. Ma ei ole nõus, et Berliini müüri langemine on sündmus, millega võib tähistada kogu Ida-Euroopa saatust. Ja et Berliin oli ja on kogu Ida-Euroopa epitsenter. Arvan, et müüri langemine on oma olemuselt Lääne, mitte Ida narratiiv. Nikita Hruštšovilt pärineb tsitaat “Berliin on nagu Lääne munandid. Kui ma tahan Läänt karjuma panna, siis ma pigistan Berliini!”. Nüüd kui Berliin on nõukogude haardest väljas, on aeg neid mune lihtsalt imetleda – East Side Gallery ja Checkpoint Charile on suurepärased näited sellest. Samas üritatakse nende munadega kaunistada kogu Ida-Euroopa diskursust, mille keskseks sündmuseks on müüri langemine, ning kuhu on “endise Ida-Saksa” eeskujul siginenud ideoloogiline mõiste “endine Ida”.

Soe koht

Mida peab aga silmas Kirill Tulin, kes püstitas EKKM-i katusele siniselt hõõguva sildi “IDA”, tsiteerides sel aastal Berliini Volksbühne katuselt seoses direktori vahetumisega eemaldatud silti “OST”? Viimane paigaldati sinna aastal 1994, osana Bertolt Brechti etendusest “Hea inimene Sezuanist”, ning pärast seda jäi see teatri katusele mitmetähenduslikke sõnumeid edastama. Tulini näitus “Abiks keskküttekatla kütjale”, mille raames see “Ida” välja ilmus, seisneb selles, et kunstnik töötab umbes kuu aega galeriis katlakütjana ning tema ülesandeks on hoida üks ruum soojana. Selles ruumis saavad külalised niisama aega veeta ja mõtteid vahetada, samas kui tagaruumis, mis on muuseas varustatud ka pesemis- ja magamisvõimalustega, töötavad Tulin ning tema abilised, kellele kunstnik töö eest palka maksab. Arvestades seda, et külmal ajal pole võimalik aega veeta ja mõtteid vahetada mitte kuskil peale kommertsruumi, ning et enamus galeriisid kujutavad endast üsna ahistavat keskkonda, mis paneb inimesed hiirvaikselt liikuma ja sosinal rääkima, on Tulin tabanud üht suurt probleemi – nimelt seda, et meie avalik, poliitilist potentsiaali omav ruum on kokku kuivamas, samal ajal kui privatiseeritud ruum ülekaalukalt vohab. Kõik need äri- ja eluhooned, kohvikud, restoranid ja spad on hästi köetud, kuivad, mõnusad. Põhimõtteliselt on kõik neis kohtades veedetud hetked tasulised. Jah, veel on alles jäänud mõned avalikud kohad, kus võib tasuta olla, ent mitte niisama, vaid ikka mingil kindlal otstarbel. Raamatukogus pead sa lugema, koolis õppima, galeriis näitust vaatama. Istuda, mõelda, juttu ajada ning vahepeal võibolla ka silma kinni lasta pole talvisel ajal mitte kusagil võimalik. Nõnda ongi meie avaliku ruumi avalikkus vaid formaalne ja näiline – selle tegelikud omadused sõltuvad paraku väga palju kliimast. Väljakutest, parkidest ja tänavatest ei ole võimalik ühtviisi rääkida suvel ja talvel. Ent mingil põhjusel sisaldavad näiteks kõikvõimalikud linnaruumi planeerimisega seotud töökavandid pea eranditult rohelisi puid ja põõsaid, vabas õhus liikuvaid inimesi, jne. See loob illusiooni, et meil on palju avalikku ruumi – suurema osa aastast on avalik ruum justkui koridor, mis kulgeb, ühest privaatruumist teise. On ikka väga suur vahe, kas väljakul ja pargis on 26 kraadi sooja või sama palju külma! Sellest sõltub ilmselt rohkem kui me arvame – kogu ühiskonna mentaalne kliima! Tean, et Kirill Tulin on varem termokaameraga uurinud kohti, kus on toimunud suured meeleavaldused. Vaadates erinevate ühiskondade poliitilist kultuuri, samuti kriitilise mõtlemise, vaimse ärksuse, kogukondliku aktiivsuse omadusi, tuleks mõelda ka tingimustest, mis soodustavad seda kõike. Kui palju inimesi oleks läinud Balti ketti näiteks jaanuaris? Võimalik, et Ida-Euroopa eneseteadvus vajab kasvamiseks sooja kohta – jugoslaavlased kui minu arvates kõige teadlikumad idaeurooplased on ühtlasi ka kõige lõunapoolsemad idaeurooplased.

EKKM, mis asub kunagise katlamaja kontorihoones ning on talviti kütteprobleemide tõttu enamjaolt suletud, on kahtlemata vaadeldav kui paljude Ida-Euroopa sümptomite kogum. Kesklinnas asuval tühermaal seisvat düsfunktsionaalset tehasehoonet skvottinud ning seal hiljem legaliseerunud kaasaegse kunsti muuseum kõlab nagu düstoopia. Ja mingi kosmilise juhuse läbi kattuvad linna ja arendajate huvid rajada sellele mereäärsele krundile suured ärihooned, mis ähvardavad varjutada selle kunstimaailmas väga eduka institutsiooni tulevikku. Ma ei tea, kas silt “IDA” jääb EKKM-i katusele ka pärast Tulini näitust. Kui ei jää, siis on tegemist lootuskiirega, mis kustub kiirelt nagu novembrikuine päike. Kui jääb, siis on sellel võime kinnistada EKKM-i hoone ja selle saatus Ida-Euroopa kui diskursuse ja geopoliitilise teadvusega. Seda viimast peangi ma piiratud kontekstis toimivast diskursusest palju olulisemaks, ja arvan, et just selle teadvuse soojendamisega Tulin algust teebki.

Ida-Euroopa geopoliitiline teadvus on midagi klassiteadvuse sarnast ning eeldab inimese võimet reflekteerida ja politiseerida oma päritolu. Ida-Euroopa on ühelt poolt negatiivsete sümptomite kogum, millega igaüks võib end suhestada seeläbi, et märkab, kas ja kui palju mõjutavad tema päritolu ja asukoht ta elukäiku. Teiselt poolt võiks idaeuroopluse eneseteadvust sisustada asjaolu, et suur osa sellest maailmajaost ei oma koloniaalminevikuga kaasnevaid hüvesid ning vastutust. Näiteks Jugoslaavia oli riik, mis esitles end kui mittekoloniaalset Euroopat, vastandudes nii Nõukogude Liidule kui ka Läänele, ning moodustades koos teiste Erapooletusse Liikumisse (Non-Aligned Movement) kuuluvate riikidega Kolmanda Maailma. Samas võivad päris mitmed teised Nõukogude Liidu koosseisus olnud Ida-Euroopa riigid või pigem rahvad kuulutada end osaks mittekoloniaalsest Euroopast ning püüda heastada oma viimase kahekümne aasta neokolonialismist tekkinud süü. Praeguseid tendentse arvestades jääb see aga kindlasti unistuseks. Rumeenia filosoof Ovidiu Tichindeleanu kirjutas juba 2010. aastal, et Ida-Euroopa on sisuliselt eimiski – kui see üldse eksisteerib, siis on see pigem lootus kui tegelikkus, ja pigem minevik kui tulevik. Praeguseks on Ida-Euroopa omandanud tõepoolest mingisuguse eneseteadvuse, mis väljendub Läänele vastanduvas, ent samas üdini õhtumaises uuskonservatismis. Ent mida ei suuda riigivõim, seda võib suuta kultuur. Ma väga loodan, et meie kultuurivaldkondades hakkab pead tõstma idaeurooplus kui dekoloniaalne hoiak, ja kaob universalistlik samastumine valge Läänega.

Metamorfoos

Oluline on mõista, mida me tegelikult mõtleme, kui ütleme “Ida”. Kas Ida-Euroopa on nagu tükike suveniirina müüdavat Berliini müüri – lihtsalt üks lisanauding, üks luksuslik nostalgia hetk? Või teadvusest välja tõrjutud massiiv söötis põldudest, lagunevatest kolhoosihoonetest, tühjaks jäänud küladest? Ida-Euroopa eneseteadvuse eelduseks on pigem koloniaalse trauma sõnastamine, isikliku mälu seostamine väliste asjaoludega, mida saab järele kontrollida. Kuna need asjaolud on enamasti politiseeritud, sõltub idaeurooplase eneseteadvus paljuski tema olemasolevast maailmavaatest. Austria ajakirjanik Hannes Hofbauer kirjeldanud väga kompleksselt seda olustikku, millest kasvas välja see Ida-Euroopa, mida me kõik oleme kogenud. Ta kirjeldas sotsialismijärgse transformatsiooni aluseid läbi järgmiste kapitali loogikal põhinevate protsesside: a) hüperinflatsioon ja šokiteraapia (kaasa aitasid Maailmapank ja Rahvusvaheline Valuutafond); b) turu loomine: “stagneerunud” ühiskonna uuendamine, Lääne jaoks tööturu loomine (1994. aastal oli Saksa ettevõtja jaoks Ungari tööline 10 korda, Slovakkia tööline 15 korda, ja Bulgaaria tööline 33 korda odavama kui Saksamaal); c) reformid ja erastamine.¹ Ida-Euroopa üleminekuaeg kätkes endas muutusi, mille suurusest ja tähendusest hakkame me alles nüüd aru saama, sest piisavalt palju aega on möödunud, ning need muutused toimusid inimpsüühika süvakihtides ja keele semantilises sfääris. Näiteks taipasin ma alles hiljuti mõelda tõsiselt Scorpionsi loo “Wind of Change” sõnade peale. Need ütlesid otse: “Let your balalaika sing, what my guitar wants to say!”. Seda lugu võiks pidada Ida-Euroopa hümniks, sest ta kerkis esile keset kõige pöördelisemaid sündmusi ja pani massid kaasa vilistama, sest inglise keelt räägiti tol ajal vähe, ja kui räägiti, siis ilma kriitikameeleta.

Samal ajal, kui raadiod mängisid Scorpionsi, nägin mina oma elu esimest katlakütjat. Olin siis umbes kümne aastane, kui koolis juhtus selline lugu, et sööklatrepile oli purjus katlakütja magama jäänud. Terve parv lapsi oli tema ümber kogunenud ja nad piidlesid hirmuga seda meest, kes mõjus nagu amortiseerunud tööriist, laguneva nõukogude võimu kehastus. Lilla nina, peas villane suusamüts, seljas presendist kattega vatijope, jalas robustsed saapad! Võimalik, et ma polnud varem ühtegi katlakütjat näinud, sest just sellisena see amet minu teadvusesse kinnistus. Katlakütja – harimatu, ajale jalgu jäänud joodik! Vedeles laste ees nagu porri kinni jäänud kolhoosi traktor. Ta tekitas hirmu, talle võis inkrimineerida mistahes süütegusid, alates mõrvast, lõpetades riigikukutamisega. Räägitakse ju, et Nõukogude Liidu kukutas süsteemi allakäik, tööpostil joomine, varastamine! Tolle aja lapsed olid oma mõtteviisilt väga poliitilised, sest poliitika, õigemini geopoliitika, oli kõikjal õhus. Kodus räägiti sellest kogu aeg. Me kõik oskasime naerda nõukogude võimu üle ja otsida igalt poolt märke, mis kinnitasid selle nõrkust ja naeruväärsust. Ma teadsin väga hästi, et “riik on halb peremees”. Lihtne oli näha katlakütjas halba peremeest ja mõista, et küttesüsteemide kaasajastamine ja privatiseerimine on selles olukorras ainuvõimalik tee. Mungad ja nunnad. Vaarao.

Selle katlakütja pohmellihommik pidi olema midagi sarnast nagu Gregor Samsal. Ärkad ühel hommikul üles ja avastad, et oled katlakütja. Õigupoolest oled sa ju alati katlakütja olnud aga seekord on miski väga radikaalselt muutunud, ühiskonnaga on midagi juhtunud. Muutuseid ei ole näha, need ilmutavad end ainult läbi sinu. Pelgalt läbi fakti, et sa oled muutunud kohatuks, kasutuks. Lisaks kehastad sa midagi hoomamatult suurt ja kurja. Sa pead tundma häbi ja alandust. Diagnoos “homo postsoveticus” ei ütleks sulle mitte midagi isegi siis, kui sa sellest kuuleksid. Aga sinuni sellised asjad ei jõua. Ainus raamat, mida sa lugesid, oli “Abiks keskküttekatla kütjale” ja see jäi sinust maha sinna katlaruumi tol päeval, kui sind koondati. Alkoholism ja enesetapp on sinu kaaslased, nad on osa eelmisest elust, vanast ühiskonnast, ning kaitsevad sind nüüd muutuste tuule eest nagu kitiinkest. Joomine oli sinu kõige viimane tööülesanne, mille sa peale koondamisteadet said. Ülemus andis sulle justkui lohutuseks pudeli viina, ent käskis siis ametlikul toonil see kohe ära juua. Ja kui sa juba pooleldi ometuna ahju ees lebasid, tulid mehed ja tassisid su koolimaja sööklatrepile. Seal sa kustusid. Ajapikku oled sa kohanud teisi katlakütjaid, kel on täpselt samasugune kogemus. Kõikjal anti neile pudel ning tassiti siis teadvuseta olekus mõnda avalikku kohta, justkui vanakraami turule. Peale seda viimast tööd oled sa olnud kas pensionil või surnud. Selle uue ilmaga ei harjunud sa kunagi ära ja üsna tihti tabasid sa end unistamast, et kord tuleb keegi, kes kooli juhtkonna ees tõe päevavalgele toob ning vana katlakütja oma ametisse ennistab.

1 - Hannes Hofbaueri ettekanne „Brussels Version of „Drang nach Osten“: The Economic Colonization of Eastern Europe (1990 – 2010), üritusel „Der Drang Nach Osten“ (28.10. – 20.12.2010), HIT Gallery, Bratislava

Help for the incubator of the Eastern European

Tanel Rander

The testicles of the West

‘Why are we not allowed to be proud that we had a Soviet Empire?’ Alexandr Lukashenko asked in an interview in 2012. I wanted to spray paint that sentence on the East Side Gallery wall, located on Mühlenstrasse in Berlin, and famous for old murals that have become classics. There are, for instance, the painting by Dmitry Vrubel titled My god, help me to survive this deadly love that depicts Brezhnev and Honecker sharing a kiss, and the famous artwork by Birgit Kinder representing a Trabant bursting through the Wall. The site is a well-known tourist attraction that feeds the nostalgia industry in Berlin. That nostalgia has its limits, of course: the wall in question is an object of memory that has been restored numerous times, it is not a free platform meant for street art as it might seem at first. The Wall is therefore ideologically monopolised and its primary message is that, after the fall of the Wall, it has started to be sold to people piece by piece. Yet there seemed to be something in Lukashenko’s quote that crossed all the boundaries of the Western nostalgia that we encounter in Berlin. That ‘something’ was a message about a society that is difficult to be considered as ‘the former East’ represented by one part of Berlin. Anyway, when I got to the Wall with my spray cans, it was besieged by the police and there were large buses full of riot police officers standing by a little farther away. It turned out that a big demonstration was about to begin, a demonstration against the city and real estate developers who wanted to construct an apartment building by the Spree and, in order to do that, remove a section of the Wall. My plan had failed but the amount of participants in the street protest was impressive. One of them was David Hasselhoff, for example, who had ineptly performed his daft song ‘Looking for freedom’ by the crumbling Wall and he did the same thing at the protest, only this time the intention was to maintain that piece of the Wall as a manifestation of freedom. I, however, felt as an outsider in that crowd. I do not agree that the fall of the Berlin Wall is an event that could designate the fate of the whole Eastern Europe. Nor that Berlin was and is the epicenter of the whole Eastern Europe. In my opinion, the fall of the Wall is in its essence a narrative of the West, not that of the East. There is a quote from Krushchev: ‘Berlin is the testicles of the West. When I want the West to scream, I squeeze on Berlin!’ Now that Berlin is out of the Soviet grasp, it is time to simply admire these testicles – the East Side Gallery and Checkpoint Charlie are excellent examples. At the same time, those testicles are being used to decorate an entire Eastern European discourse, the central event of which is the fall of the Wall, and within which, following the example of ‘former East Germany’, the ideological term ‘former East’ has emerged.

A warm place

However, what does Kirill Tulin have in mind, having set up on the rooftop of EKKM a blue glowing sign ‘IDA’ that refers to the sign ‘OST’ which was removed from the rooftop of the Berlin Volksbühne due to the appointment of a new managing director? The sign was installed in 1994 as a part of the production for Bertolt Brecht’s play The Good Person of Szechwan and it remained there, conveying ambiguous messages. The sign ‘IDA’ materialised for Tulin’s exhibition Help for the Stoker of the Central Heating Boiler that involves the artist working inside the gallery for about a month as a stoker and keeping the space warm. In that space the visitors can spend time and exchange thoughts while Tulin and his paid assistants work in the back room which, by the way, is also equipped with washing and sleeping facilities. Considering the fact that it is impossible to spend time and exchange thoughts anywhere but in a commercial room during the cold season and that gallery as an environment often tends to be quite constrictive as it forces people to move around quietly and speak in a whisper, Tulin has captured a considerable issue – our public space bearing political potential is drying up while the privatised space overwhelmingly proliferates. Those commercial and residential buildings, cafés, restaurants and spas are all well heated, dry, comfortable. There is basically a charge for every second spent in these locations. Yes, there still remain some public places that can be attended for free but only for a certain purpose. In a library you have to read, at school you must study, in a gallery you should see the exhibition. During winter it is impossible to find a place where you could just just sit, think, chat and sometimes maybe even catch a wink. Thus, our public space is only formally and seemingly public – its actual features depend strongly on climate. We cannot talk about squares, parks and streets the same way in winter as we do in summer. For some reason, however, all kinds of projects related to urban space planning almost invariably include green trees and shrubbery, people moving about in the open air etc. This creates the illusion that we have a lot of public space – for most of the year, public space is like a corridor going from one private space to another. On a square or in a park the difference between +26 and -26 degrees is very noticeable! It probably affects more substantial things thank we might think – the mental climate of the whole society. I know that Kirill has previously used a thermal camera to study locations where big demonstrations have been held. When we look at the political culture in various societies as well as the characteristics of critical thought, mental alertness, communal activity, we should also think about the conditions that prompt all of those things. How many people would have participated in the Baltic Way in January, for example? It is possible that the Eastern European self-awareness needs a warm place to grow – the Yugoslavians who, in my opinion, are the most conscious Eastern Europeans are also the southernmost Eastern Europeans. 

The EKKM, located in the former office building of a boiler house and mostly closed during winter due to heating problems, can undoubtedly be regarded as an ensemble of many symptoms of the Eastern Europe. A contemporary art museum that has squatted in a dysfunctional factory building in the middle of a wasteland in the city center and has later become a legal institution sounds like a dystopia. And by some kind of a cosmic chance the interests of the municipality and those of developers overlap in wanting to construct on these seaside grounds some vast commercial buildings that threaten to cast a shadow over the future of this institution that has become very successful in the art world. I do not know if the sign ‘IDA’ will remain on the rooftop of the EKKM after Tulin’s exhibition. If not, then it is a ray of hope that goes out as fast as the the November sun. If it does, then it has the power to attach the building of EKKM and its fate to Eastern Europe as a discourse and a geopolitical consciousness. I consider the latter much more important than a discourse that only functions in a limited context and I think that Tulin’s work is starting to warm up that very consciousness. 

The Eastern European geopolitical consciousness is something similar to class consciousness and it requires an ability to reflect and politicize one’s provenance. On the one hand, Eastern Europe is an ensemble of negative symptoms that anyone can relate themselves to by noticing if and how much their provenance and location affect the course of their lives. On the other hand, the consciousness of an Eastern European should also incorporate the fact that a considerable part of the continent does not have the advantages nor the responsibility that are incidental to a colonial past. For example, Yugoslavia was a country that presented itself as a part of non-colonial Europe, thus contrasting itself to the Soviet Union as well as the West, and formed the Third World along with other countries from the Non-Aligned Movement. However, there are several other Eastern European countries or rather peoples from the former Soviet Union who could declare themselves a part of non-colonial Europe and try to compensate for the fault of having had neo-colonialism as their regime for the past twenty years. Considering current tendencies, this will definitely remain a dream. The Romanian philosopher Ovidiu Tichindeleanu wrote already in 2010 that Eastern Europe, in principle, is nothing – if it does exist, it is hope rather than reality and past rather than future. By now, Eastern Europe really does have acquired some kind of a self-awareness that manifests itself in a new conservatism, it contrasts itself to the West but is nevertheless completely Western. However, what a state is unable to achieve, a culture might. I truly hope that eastern-europeanism as a decolonial stance will spring up in our cultural spheres and that the universalist self-identification with the white West will fade.

Metamorphosis

It is important to understand what we actually mean when we say ‘the East’. Is Eastern Europe just like a piece of the Berlin wall being sold to tourists – just an additional pleasure, a luxurious moment of nostalgia? Or a cluster blocked out from consciousness, a cluster that consists of fallow fields, dilapidated kolkhoz buildings, abandoned villages? The precondition for an Eastern-European conciousness is rather a formulation of the colonial trauma, the association between personal memory and external circumstances that can be verified. Since those circumstances are mostly politicised, the consciousness of an Eastern European depends, in many aspects, on their existing worldview. An Austrian journalist Hannes Hofbauer has given a very complex description of the circumstances from which the Eastern Europe that we all have experienced has evolved. He has described the principles of post-socialist transformation through the following processes based on the logic of capital: a) hyperinflation and shock therapy (with the help of the World Bank and the International Monetary Foundation); b) formation of a market: the renovation of a ‘stagnant’ society, the creation of a labour market for the West (in 1994, a Hungarian labourer was 10 times, a Slovakian labourer 15 times and a Bulgarian labourer 33 times less expensive for a German entrepreneur than a German labourer); c) reforms and privatisation.¹ For Eastern Europe, the transition period involved changes, the magnitude and significance of which we are only now starting to take in because a sufficient amount of time has passed. Those changes took place deep inside the human psyche and in the semantic sphere of language. For example, I just recently realised that I should really pay attention to the lyrics of ‘Wind of Change’ by the Scorpions. They were straightforward: ‘Let your balalaika sing, what my guitar wants to say!’ This song could be considered as the hymn of Eastern Europe because it emerged during the most pivotal events and it made the masses whistle along because most people could not speak English back then and those who did, practised it with no sense of criticism.

It was while the Scorpions played on the radio that I saw a stoker for the first time in my life. I was about ten years old when it so happened that a drunken stoker had fallen asleep on the stairs of the canteen at my school. A crowd of kids had gathered around him, taking frightened glances at the man who seemed like a worn-out tool, the incarnation of the crumbling Soviet authority. Purple nose, wearing a woollen ski cap, a tarpaulin coated quilted jacket, robust boots! It is possible that I had never seen a stoker before because in my head it was that very image that became for me the equivalent of the profession. A stoker – an uneducated old-world drunk! Lying in front of the children like a kolkhoz tractor stuck in mud. He induced fear, he could be implicated with every possible crime including murder and overthrowing the government. Is it said that the cause of the fall of the Soviet Union lies within the downfall of the system, drinking on the job, stealing. The children of that time had a very political mindset, because politics, geopolitics to be more precise, was in the air everywhere. It was constantly discussed at home. We could all laugh at the Soviet authority and look for signs that proved it weak and ridiculous. I was very well aware that the ‘government was a bad master’. It was easy to see the bad master in the stoker and to realise that the only possible approach in that situation was to modernise and privatise the heating system. Monks and nuns. Pharaoh. 

That stoker must have experienced a ‘morning after’ similar to the one Gregor Samsa had. You wake up one morning and discover that you are a stoker. In fact you have always wanted to be a stoker but this time, something has changed very radically, something has happened to the society. The changes are not visible, they only present themselves through you. Through the mere fact that you have become inadequate, useless. Furthermore, you embody something unfathomably vast and evil. You have to endure shame and humiliation. You would not comprehend the diagnosis ‘homo postsoveticus’ even if you heard it. But these kind of things are beyond you. The only book you ever read was Help for the Stoker of the Central Heating Boiler and you had left it in the boiler room the day you were laid off. Alcoholism and suicide are your comrades, they are a part of your previous life, of the old society, and they protect you from the winds of change like a chitinous shell. Drinking was your last job after receiving the redundancy notice. Your superior gave you a bottle of vodka, as if for consolation, but then told you to drink it all at once. And when you were already lying, half uncounscious, in front of the boiler, the men came and carried you to the stairs of the school canteen. That is where you passed out. During time you have met other stokers who have the exact same experience. Everywhere they were given a bottle and carried in an unconscious state to a public location, like something dropped off to a junk market. After that last job you either retired or died. You never came to terms with that new world and you often found yourself fantasising about how somebody would come forward one day, set the record straight with the school board and reinstate the elderly stoker.

1 Hannes Hofbauer’s presentation ‘Brussels Version of ‘Drang nach Osten’: The Economic Colonization of Eastern Europe (1990–2010)’, at the event Der Drang Nach Osten(28.10.–20.12.2010), HIT Gallery, Bratislava.

INIMMETSANDUS

Manifest

 

„Inimmetsandus“ on poliitiline avaldus ja kriitiline akt, samuti ka reaalselt aset leidev inimtööjõu ja loodusressursside ekspluateerimine ja instrumentaliseerimine Lääne ja Ida-Euroopa vahelistes suhetes. Hoolimata sellest, et meie – Eestist pärit 10 x 10 meetrit kunstnikud – oleme kõnealuseks aktsiooniks valmistudes tasuta tööd teinud, ei kõnele käesolev avaldus pelgalt kaasaegse kunsti süsteemi puudutavatest probleemidest. Me oleme lojaalsed Kiasmale kui Performance Compost`i organiseerijale ning tänulikud selle eest, et meid esinema kutsuti. Meie avaldus kaitseb rassistatud ja ekspluateeritud Ida-Euroopa tööjõudu Läänes ja pöörab eeskätt tähelepanu Eesti immigrantidele, kes töötavad Soomes.

Lääne globaalkapitalismi totaalsus on tekitanud olukorra, kus ametlikult ca 30 000 ja mitteametlikult ca 100 000 Eestist pärit immigranti töötab Soomes, tihtilugu kohalikest madalama palga eest, jättes oma elud, kodud ja perekonnad vaesesse Ida-Euroopa riiki, kus valitseb sotsiaalne katastroof. Kuigi kõnealune immigratsioon algas palju varem kui 2004. aastal, on see osa Euroopa Liidu laienemise plaanist. Austria ajakirjanik Hannes Hofbauer on kõnelenud sellest, kuidas ammu enne Euroopa Liidu laienemiseks vajaliku juriidilise võrgustiku valmimist loodi endistes Nõukogude maades kolm ülemineku alustala, mis pidid vastama kapitali loogikale: a) hüperinflatsioon ja šokiteraapia; b) turu loomine, uuendades „stagneerunud“ ühiskonda, mille tulemusel tekkis Lääne kapitalile odav tööjõuturg; c) reformid ja erastamine. Ida-Euroopa riikide hüpoteetiline vabadus, mis tekkis pärast Berliini müüri langemist 1989 aastal, muutis tundliku post-kommunistliku Ida-Euroopa maastiku kauboikapitalistlikuks sõjatandriks, ehitades niiviisi Lääne kapitalile vajalikku maandumisrada, ja tuues ohvriks kohalike elud ja heaolu.

Enne kui hakata rääkima enesekolonisatsioonist Ida-Euroopa riikides ja otsima Nõukogude kommunismi varjatud kapitalistlikku iseloomu, enne kui nõustuda Lääne vasakpoolsete arvamusega, et Nõukogude kommunism oli läbikukkumine, peaksime me tähelepanu pöörama sellele, milliste propagandamehhanismide läbi kujundas Lääne kapital oma mainet Külma Sõja perioodil. Ida-Euroopa rahvusriikide loomine oli vajalik eeldus selleks, et lülitada end globaalse kapitali ja globaalse kultuuri külge. Tüüpiline Ida-Euroopa poliitiline kokteil tähendab neoliberaalset valitsust, mis toimib käsikäes rahvusliku konservatismiga. Viimase ülesandeks on olla valitseva ideoloogia formaalne eneseõigustus ja tuimesti – pehmendamaks kurba tõsiasja, et Ida-Euroopa rahvusriigid on sisuliselt globaalkapitalismi maskid. Nende riikide ülesehitus – kaasaarvatud haridussüsteem ja kultuur – toimib kui odava tööjõu kasvulava.

Idaeurooplaste immigratsioonil on kahtlemata olnud mõju Lääne tööjõuturule ja sotsiaalsele heaolule. Sel ajal, kui Ida-Euroopast liikus näiteks Inglismaale suur hulk võõrtööjõudu, oli sealne töötuse tase kasvav ja kõrge. Seda seletatakse asjaoluga, et idaeurooplased on nõus tegema „musta, rasket ja ohtlikku“ tööd madalama palga eest kui kohalikud. Sarnane tendents on teada Soomest, kus Eesti ehitajad on kujunenud justkui omaette kaubamärgiks. Idaeurooplaste tahe teha madala palga eest „räpast, rasket ja ohtlikku“ tööd ei tulene subjektiivsetest valikutest ega protestantlikust tööeetikast, samuti ei tulene see Nõukogude kommunismist, idaeurooplaste üleüldisest tagurlikkusest, destruktiivsusest ja brutaalsusest. Ainus põhjus sellele ennasthävitavale tahtele on sotsiaalne katastroof, mille on loonud Ida-Euroopa rahvusriikide neoliberaalne poliitika, ja globaalkapitalistlikule vabale turule allumine. Selle tulemusel kannatab kohalik elu – näiteks Eesti meditsiinitöötajate massiivse Soome siirdumise tõttu on langenud tervishoiusüsteemi kvaliteet. Kogu sotsiaalsüsteem on liikumas Ameerika Ühendriikide mudeli poole. Sellise mudeli, mida filosoofid Achille Mbembe ja Marina Grzinic on nimetanud nekrokapitalismiks – see on süsteem, mis laseb elada neil, kes suudavad iseendaga toime tulla, ja paneb surema need, kes seda ei suuda.

Keele ja kultuuri (mida iganes see ka ei tähendaks) sarnasus on ühendanud Soome ja Eesti justkui omamoodi sugulussuhtesse, millel, arvestades antud olustikku, on perversne ja kuritarvitav alatoon – võimalik, et sellest ongi saamas soome-ugri kultuuri varjukülg. Seetõttu peaksime me oma ümber mõtestama oma kultuurisidemed ja –konstruktsioonid, lähtudes kolonialistlikust ja neokolonialistlikust perspektiivist. Sarnane kuritarvitav sugulussuhe on Rumeenia ja Itaalia vahel – sealgi on keeleline sarnasus ja hüpoteetiline kultuurisild, mis paraku toimib kui infrastruktuur Rumeenia odavtööjõu liikumiseks Itaaliasse. Nõnda on Soome ja Eesti vaheline erinevus sotsiogeneetilist päritolu – eelkõige rassiline. See on Ida ja Lääne vaheliste neokolonialistlike suhete puhul tüüpiline, antud juhul on kontekstiks Balti riigid ja Põhjamaad – Soome ja Rootsi. Kuigi Euroopa Liidu sisesed piirid peaksid justkui olema kadunud ja Ida peaks olema muutunud endiseks Idaks ning Lääs endiseks Lääneks, eksisteerivad piirid ilmselgelt edasi. Need on inimeste vahelised nähtamatud piirid, mis põhinevad tööjõu kui sellise rassistlikul olemusel.

Unistus vabadusest – vabadusest elada ja töötada kus tahes on kujunenud vabadus elada viletsates tingimustes madala palga eest, mis Eesti oludes tähendab head sissetulekut, ning olla eemal oma kodust ja perekonnast, teispool Soome lahte. Subjektiivne vabadus on institutsionaalne osa suurest konverteerimismasinast, mida etendab kõige paremini laevaliiklus Soome lahel – juba 80ndate lõpust alates on seal olnud „kultuurisild“, mille sisendiks on Soome alkoholituristid, Eesti prostitutsiooni põhilised tarbijad, ning väljundiks Eesti võõrtöölised, rõõmsalt arendamas Eesti keskklassi, olles Läänes alamakstud. Kuna odav Ida-Euroopa tööjõud on Lääne riikidele kasulik, võib Ida-Euroopa viletsat olustikku vaadelda kui kasulikku väetist edukaks lõikuseks. Seetõttu võib ka Eesti vaesust kui massilise migratsiooni põhjust pidada justkui Soome loodusvaraks, ning sel juhul on Soome laht vaadeldav kui Middle Passage`i kaasaegne versioon.

Aafrika vanasõna ütleb: „See, kes ei tea, kust ta tuleb, ei tea, kuhu ta läheb“. Ida-Euroopa riikide ametlik poliitika on hoida Nõukogude aega trauma ja katkestuse staatuses – see on justkui tühik kahe kapitalismi (Nõukogude-eelne, Nõukogude-järgne) vahel. Aeg, mis selles tühikus kulges, on justkui halb unenägu, ehkki see unenägu moodustab suurema osa paljude idaeurooplaste (sealhulgas poliitikute) elust. Identiteedipoliitiline otsus, mille kohaselt Ida-Euroopa trauma asub just Nõukogude perioodis, põhineb juriidilistel ja ideoloogilistel alustel, ehkki trauma aluseks on ideoloogiline ümberlülitus – nii-öelda „süsteemivahetus“. Ideoloogiline ümberlülitus ei piirdu ainult poliitilise süsteemiga või mõtteviisiga – ideoloogia läbistab kogu orgaanilist elu, algusest peale, koos mineviku, oleviku ja tulevikuga. Paljude idaeurooplaste arvates ei tundnud inimesed end Nõukogude ajal kunagi nii tühise ja biopoliitiliselt instrumentaliseeritud massina nagu nad tunnevad praegu. Isegi kõige äärmuslikuma sotsiaalse ebaõigluse kestel säilis inimestel lootus ja arusaam sellest, mis on tõde. Kuid nõnda oli ka tolleaegses Läänes – ajal, mis eelnes globaalkapitalismi võidukäigule. Niisiis on muutunud on kogu maailm. Ent sellest hoolimata peaksid idaeurooplased mõistma, kust nad tulevad ja kus nad asuvad, niisamuti kui Lääne riigid peaksid oma postkolonialistliku vastutuse kõrval tajuma ka oma neokolonialistlikku vastutust.

Aktsioon „Inimmetsandus“ on pühendatud kõikidele Ida-Euroopa võõrtöölistele Läänes, sealhulgas Eesti immigrantidele, kes töötavad Soomes. Aktsioon seisneb järgnevas: Eesti loodusvarad – puit ja inimtööjõud – transporditakse Eesti maksumaksja kulul üle Soome lahe. Puitmaterjal, milleks on koormatäis kände, laetakse maha Kiasma ees ja veeretatakse ükshaaval nelja kunstniku poolt galeriiruumi. Samaaegselt toimub manifesti ettelugemine. Protsessi tulemusena jääb Kiasma valdusesse kännukoorem kui Eesti loodus- ja inimressursside kehastus, mida Kiasmal on vaba voli interpreteerida, kasutada või arhiveerida. Käesolevat manifesti levitatakse nii Eestis kui Soomes – igaüks, kes soovib sellega ühineda ja sellesse panustada, on teretulnud appi Kiasmasse kände veeretama pühapäeval 7. oktoobril kell 14.00–17.00.

*10 x 10 meetrit

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* 10 x 10 meetrit rühmitus on pidevalt muutuva isikkooseisuga tegevuskunstnike kollektiiv, mis tegutseb alates aastast 2009. Rühmituse eesmärgiks on vallandada vabas vormis loomingulisust, inspireerudes sageli abstraktsetest ruumilistest ja absurdsetest inimlikest nähtustest. Piirates oma tegevusvälja 10 korda 10 meetriga püüame aktsioonides keskenduda konkreetse elulise situatsiooni olemusele, puhastada seda üleliigsest infost. Teisalt saab 10 korda 10 meetrist lavaruumist süsteem, mis suunab meie tegutsemist ja mille vastu me mingis mõttes ka mässame.

Viimasel kolmel aastal oleme üles astunud Kanuti Gildi Saalis toimuval Made in Estonia maratonil kuni kümneminutiliste lühivormidega. Aastal 2010 esines kollektiiv ka tegevuskunstide festivalil Seanahk Haapsalus.

10 x 10 meetrit liikmed: Eva Labotkin, Epp Kubu, Tanel Rander, Mai Sööt, Villem Jahu ja Andrus Lauringson 

Interview with Salme and Maire on 22-nd of February 2012

Discussion at the cafè of elderly house. The cafè is closed for book inventory. Background sounds are formed by counting of euro coins. The chaplain of elderly house is also present and all the participants keep up the discussion, ask questions from each other. Salme (96) was born, raised and living in countryside of Central-Estonia. Her childhood memories are based on the first republic of Estonia. Maire (66) was born, raised and living in Tartu. She has memories from the period after II WW. A rough translation of the interview:

Salme: I am the 9-th child in family, i had younger brothers-sisters, i played with them. I had a small brother, a small sister, 2 years between one, 4 years between the other, so i was playing with them and the older ones did schoolwork. They already made me write and read, when i was 4 years old. We didn`t have much toys. We went out with the cattle already in May, then we could cut branches of willow trees. We used to play garden, we used to play sheperds as we were sheperds. I am an engrained countrygirl, but now here i can live in the city. Then we used to cut cows out of wood, i used to have a knife, a pocket knife, so we did the garden, a timber garden. So were we, children, playing. We didn´t have any toys bought from shop, we were not that wealthy, i was still the 9-th child in family. Childhood was a beautiful time and a nice life and…

Maire: I am indeed an engrained Tartu citizen. I was born, raised and living in one and the same house, until it was reimbursed to its former owner. After this i also lived there for a while. And then i got my own flat, that was two years ago. And almost two years im living here. So i went away fromm that house. So long time i`ve been living in Tartu. Wooden house, a gorgeous mansion. Reimbursed to its former owner, so i started to feel myself as stranger.

But i was born in the end of the war. I don`t have anything to speak about my toys. We had a telephone, because of my father`s job. I was such a wall-telephone, with huge bells. Then my father and mother let us play so, that i could lift the phone tub up and put down again, we couldn`t touch it more. But i remember my first phone number: 44 62. I really wonder that i still remember it. Then the time of school began. It was all in Tartu, in one school until 8-th grade, then in Treffner and then in the university. But out of toys in that age the telephone was one thing, but there was also a doll – made of cellophane. It was a product of our comb factory. Without any clothes. Me and my sister then tried to make some clothes to cover it, as much as we could. It was one of our toys, but we had also games to play. We played hopscotch in the yard. Lines were drawn on sand, we were jumping there and, according to rules, the one, who stepped on lines, fell out of game. We also played dodgeball. And bounced the ball against the wall of our house, that displeased people living in the house, because it was quite noisy. Also there was threat that the ball breaks a window and such things also happened. Sledge was my toy. We had a hill, we used to live under the hill. There we could sledge. In that time all the gardens were surrounded by barbed wire. So, when we were sledging, it was inevitable, that we reached the wire. Then in the evening our mother had to work on our pants. We couldn`t afford new ones, so the old ones had to be repaired. But she was never angry on us. Just took the pants, darned, washed and in the morning we put them on again. If not, we had other pair of pants, similar. My mother was a housewife, so life was comfortable, father went to work. Father`s tools were covered with grime. He would have let us, but we as girls didn`t find those things appropriate to play with. Father was a chimney sweeper. He had a lot of experience about Tartu and other things. It was time after the war, i was born in 1945.

Were you also wandering around the city?

Maire: Oh yes. With my father we used to go to Raadi. H ehad nice memories about the national museum. The city was in ruins, as all the river bank. We looked around in that area. Father had been living there and from some ruins we found pieces of porcelain, etc. It was also a game for me. I remember that the house that now is in the square on the edge of Vabaduse avenue. If you come from Kaarsild, it`s to the left. It had towers, i guess it was a house for dwelling, but it was demolished. Then it was rebuilt without the towers. And also market hall was built. By Matteus. The house of Estonian Bank. We were also seeing that. To such houses my father used to bring me. And those bridges in Toome. He also spoke about them. When the new Victory Bridge was built, Tartu changed a lot. The Horse Bridge was demolished, it was made of wood and it couldn`t carry more than a horse and a rook. But still smaller cars drove over, heavier had to go over Luunja, there was a bigger bridge. And then the Victory Bridge, where cars could drive. Then came Kaarsild and it was a big change. Students started to use it. And we had the tribune. We were marching in front of it, in October Parade. Now it`s gone, all such things are gone, unfortunately, i think. Those things could have found another function, rebuilt for something else. But of course its inevitable.

  

So as a child you were more in touch with the city?

Maire: Yes, i was a city kid. But all the summers i spent in grandma`s house. It was a golden life.

There was everything different, different friends, etc?

Maire: No, i didn`t have much friends. There were not much families with kids, there were more elderly people, those, who had kids, i didn`t know.

There were not many kids after war?!

Maire: Yes, not many. I remember only old people, who my grandmother visited to talk or to bring milk. We had bread days, we went to bring bread, people baked their own bread. It`s Tarvastu, Mustla now. It was beautiful in my grandmother`s place. There were four chicken and one rooster. Chicken were fed every morning by hand. There was also a swine, but it was kept until Christmas.

You were a country child, your childhood was completely different, comparing to Maire`s?!

Salme: Oh, it`s not possible to compare at all. I had a knife, could do things with wood, could make a horse, cows, i was a country child indeed. Mother was the only daughter in farm. Father had four borthers and one sister. Father was a grown up already, when his mother died. Then father went to work in another farm. Married the daughter and got the farm. Father was dark, with curly hair, mother was blonde. When my father died, a brother of mine got the heritage. I was 10 years old, when we moved away from Türi, father bought land in Imavere, from a Baltic German. There was no house. But there was schoolhouse, the mansion. Estonian government took everything away from Baltic Germans. This Baltic German was a bank director in Põltsamaa, in 1939, he left Estonia after Hitler`s call. Father built up the house and we lived there, we had our herd, we had the mansion fields. I saw those people working for Germans („moonakad“). There was not many children, but a school with 180 children. I lived in the heart of mansion, 500 steps to schoolhouse.

What did you play when keeping the herd? Did you have to leave school earlier to look after the cattle?

Salme: There was no place for keeping cattle, only fields. But we could rent such land from the state and cows were brought there in springtime. But before there was no such land, father bought the heart of mansion, the mansion house was taken away and turned into school. The Baltic German was given only two rooms and a kitchen there, so he left to Põltsamaa.

What about dolls of your childhood?

Salme: There were no dolls. Maybe only those made of wood. My sister, two years older than me, a pretty girl, she had rich godmother, who gave her a nice dress. I was envious that i didn`t have such.

But did you see any dolls in other families?

Salme: There was a family with chidren far away, there we were playing, i remember i fell into a pile of glass. Then ran home quickly and my mother cured me.

Children used to have their games that they played, while looking after cattle…

Salme: Well, what games do you have there, when you are chasing the cows. There were no other sheperds, but there were „moonakad“, living in small low houses.

What kind of dreams did you have?

Salme: I had dreams, when i was a bit older. Then i wanted to become a schoolteacher and actress.

Why didn`t you become one?

Salme: Well, i couldn`t, there was no money. Father died young, i wasn`t even 15. Mother alone kept the farm with older brothers.

Did you use to draw in your childhood?

Salme: Yes, i made houses and nature pictures. Teacher took my pictures, so they were in a way recognized. But it didn`t develop anywhere.

Maire: I did all my duties in drawing class. I used to draw houses, nature, as we had a nature teacher, who brought us there. And drawing teacher was strong – an artist.  

What did you use for drawing?

Salme: We didn`t have color pencils in that time, then there were colors, in pots. Watercolors. We used brushes. There was also the black pencil, the same we used to do schoolworks, mathematics. But no color pencils, those came later.

Maire: For example, i started with color pencils. Watercolors came later. How history has changed. Color pencils were in 6-set, my first ones, that father bought me. Then there was a 12-set, not more, it was maximum. And then came the watercolors.

What kind of presents were given to children in that time?

Salme: Presents were like that – in Christmas, mother made peppercakes, she was a good baker. Parents went to church in New Year`s Eve and put the peppercakes in the basket on top of a closet. But we, the children, stayed home, i was a great climber and i climbed on the closet to get the peppercakes. We never got enough. We only got a piece of meat in dinner, potatos as much as we wanted, but in case of meat always a small piece for everyone.

Any birthday gifts?

Salme: No such thing didn`t exist, i don`t even know that i have a birthday. There was no birthday at all.

Maire: Well, i don`t remember, maybe Christmas were similar, that peppercakes were made at home and christmastree as brought. Father always brought it. Then some kind of decorations, bought from shop, but not much. And foods and drinks… Father and mother were no church-people, they didn`t go there. We feasted at home, by the table, but during Christmas. Also during Russian Christmas, but during Christmas Santa Claus came. He didn`t bring us anything, asked to read a poem, i don`t even remember if we got something from him or not. I was a great candy-eater, so maybe i got a candy. There was a candy called „purgilörts“. It was sold in big jars, they were pillow-shaped, covered with sugar, jam inside. Those i wanted, so probably i got them.

In your case it seems that children were not spoiled at all. The gifts were practical, if there were any at all. And rather for Christmas than for birthdays.

Salme: Yes, we didn`t have such manner t omake gifts.

Maire: Our family was a bit wealthier because of father`s work, but it was all spent… Everything burned inside, parents moved to an empty flat. There they started to buy new furniture, left behind by Germans. From those who sold it… We had a piano, it was bought for my sister, who had talent, but she didn`t like it and didn`t want to become a musician. I couldn`t play at all and had no interest aswell.

So your dreams were not related with things, but rather with future?

Salme: Yes, and they couldn`t be. In the winter you are at school, in summer keeping the cattle… Chasing cows, when they started to run, you had to watch out not to get smashed.

Maire: We both were from unwealthy families, then such things couldn`t be demanded.

You saw the drawings from the exhibition of ERM and you have experience with contemporary children. What do you think about the changes of world during last 20 years?

Maire: Pictures are better, if there are materials to make them of.

But what about the content?

Maire: Well, that`s depending on person, the skills in drawing and fantasy. But fantasy is nowadays wider, because children can see more. They have been in places, with cars, with parents, travelled around, seen more.

But are those fantasies in this case, maybe these are rather memories? Fantasy comes, when you imagine things that you have never experienced…

Maire: I don`t know. If he went to drive around with car yesterday and today draws a car with four wheels.. What is it then?

Did you have some kind of fantasies, when you were wandering around the ruins of Tartu and you, when keeping your cattle?

Salme: We played a lot of ball, we had sports square by the manion, there were young people together, playing ball. Or running around. There was a park, the mansion house was inside of the park. Many young people going together.

Often, when a child is alone, he starts to imagine things. I remember myself creating colofrul worlds in my mind, when the outside was boring and empty, somewhere in the middle of city or in a forest…

Maire: I was never alone, we had a lot of children in the yard. From every family there, and in the yard we met. From morning to evening we played ball, talked. When i went to sleep in the evening, i was so tired that i fell asleep at once, after my head reached the pillow. But we had no toys. If you thought something out yourself, then maybe…

So, today the children have richer life?

Maire: Much more richer.

Is it good?

Maire: No, it`s not. For example, if they have had such things (notes at her mobile phone) already five… Why do they need it? I have had two of those, and im as old as i am. And third one is here, the old one of other people. And i have lived my life like this, as old as i am. But, when i hear young people talking that they need the newest one to make and show pictures… Im so old that i can`t respect it. We didn`t have anything like this, we didn`t even know how to desire this. Didn`t know that such things would exist. I went to work, i had a typewriter, a bit fancier than others were given, it was an achievement.

Salme: In old times there was no telephone at home. In our case, our phone calls came to the mansion house, then somebody called us and we went there to answer. All newspapers and post also came to mansion house. If you lived in the heart of mansion, life was like that.

Maire: We got our telephone because of father`s work. It was such work that required telephone, that`s why.

Telephone was also your toy as you said…

Maire: It was a toy that much as father allowed us to lift it and put back. My sister`s son built a new house and let the phone renovated and put on the wall. If one would renovate it completely, you could also use it. But nowadays there are no such lines existing… But to me it`s extremely interesting.

Interviews were performed as part of artistic intervention (by Katariina Hillo (FIN), Susanna Jurvanen (FIN), Piotr Gąsiorowski (POL), Tanel Rander (EST))  to exhibition "BUYING FEVER: CONSUMER CULTURE IN 1990s-2000s ESTONIA" of Estonian National Museum in Tartu. The intervention was part of Interdisciplinary Media, Performance and Community Practice project GROUND4, organized by MoKS Centre for Social and Art Practices. 

Interview with Salme (99 years old) on 21-st of February 2012

(A rough translation)

Contemporary childhoods seem to be different from what they used to be during your youth?!

Much different. My grand-daughter`s son is five years old and he has quite a wide life experience. When i was a child, we hardly had any toys in our cottage. When father was working with timber, i was there, playing with shavings. I cut strips of wood, split them and made crosses. Though, i had a doll aswell, it`s head was made of cloth, where eyes and mouth were painted, and with that doll i used to play. When i got older and had to look after herd, i made dolls out of alder tree and somehow also tried to make them faces. As well and as bad as they came out…

What happened with your dolls?

What happened to them? Oh, the war drove over of them all. When war ended, all w ehad, was a shaken up hen and a cat, that was all we had in our cottage. But what i miss the most is the zither that i got as a present. It was a bit smoked and it had been used by several generations, it had carvings on it`s neck, where the strings were fixed. That i miss the most. Everything was gone, my mother`s cloth coffin was also broken, nothing good was left.

Had any of children from your village nobler toys aswell? Had anyone proper dolls and things like that or did you yourself dream of one?

No, nobody bought any dolls, those were self made, out of clothes, and that was it. The farm needed agricultural tools and other inventory.

But probably you used to play some kind of games there?

Yes, by the cattle, we used to play „Trip to Riga“. It was like that: one meter of an alder tree was peeled, then a wooden stick was split apart and it was somehow thrown. When the split sides fell down the same way, then the „horse“ could go further. The „horse“ was some kind of hooks, made of alder tree, that we used to play with. There was also a stone-game, with five stones. At first you throw a stone up to the air, in the same time you grab another stone from ground, and later, when you get quicker, you can grab already four stones, when first one is still in the air. Those were the games to play when looking after herd.

But at home?

We usually didn`t play at home. There children used to help parents working in garden or do something else useful. Maybe in some richer family the life was easier, but in our case w ehad expanded our farm and developed the inherited perishes. I remember how the barn was built, when the herd got bigger.

But how could you then play with these self made dolls?

The dolls, made of clothes, as they were… yes, we played with them in the evenings and on Sundays that were celebrated. And by the herd and…

What did you, children, dream of during these times? Did you have any dreams?

Well, sure i had. I wanted to see the city and …i used to stand on a hill and look towards the city. From there i could see the road to the city and church towers. I thought if i could go there and look around, see bigger buildings. The state mansion was near, there was breed cattle. And also an event was nearby – russians were buying the cattle, there were veterinarians running around in white smocks or zootechnicians or who else they were. Animals were measured and bought, some were not. That was quite a spectacle.

Did children dream of sweets or city toys?

About the city toys.. I had an uncle, my faher`s brother, who worked in Russia, near Schlüsselburg, as forester. He brought some toys, those were made in the factory. Those i used to handle with care. Those had different roles.. a housewife or…  Well, our life experience was quite narrow, we couldn`t look around that much. Those toys were also a bit rural.

Were the city toys better than rural ones?

They were prettier. Those were dolls in different roles – there were warriors, women, wearing national costumes of Russia. Those were not brought outside. When being by the cattle, some things were done as i told you before about the „trip to Riga“, when an alder stem was stuck into earth and then gone to Riga by wooden sticks.

But why Riga?

I don`t know why, maybe because of some stories told by my father. H ehad a lot of Polish literature, but everything went missing.

Did children have any rocking horses?

No.

You didn`t know how to desire it or you just didn`t have desire for it?

Well, the life experience was narrow. Didn`t want things unknown.

But you still used to swing?

In the time of Easter Sunday… there was a birch tree and a swing. Grown-ups were swinging, children were looking and sometimes we could do it aswell.

Did you have horses in your farm?

Yes, there was a horse.

What kind of animals children used to like? Horses?

Lambs maybe. There was a lot of sheep as there was self-supporting. Bedclothes and underwear were made of linen, outerwear was made of wool.

Did you have any indoor pets, cats or dogs?

Yes, dog was an important friend i used to play with. He was very talented to follow me.

Did the dog live indoors or outdoors?

He was more outside, but during dinner he came inside and stayed under table. He was given some bits by children, though my mother didn´t support this idea, but still children always gave him something.

What kind of Christmas gifts you used to have?

Gifts.. i don`t remember much. But my father sometimes brought a book from Võru, Palju Bookstore. I started to read very early. Also looked the pictures and study the words.

So children used to have more such gifts as books, and less sweets and toys?

We didn`t have much wealth as war devastated us and the farm was expanded, so some things were considered more important than the world of children. Maybe it was better in wealthier families.

Interviews were performed as part of artistic intervention (by Katariina Hillo (FIN), Susanna Jurvanen (FIN), Piotr Gąsiorowski (POL), Tanel Rander (EST))  to exhibition "BUYING FEVER: CONSUMER CULTURE IN 1990s-2000s ESTONIA" of Estonian National Museum in Tartu. The intervention was part of Interdisciplinary Media, Performance and Community Practice project GROUND4, organized by MoKS Centre for Social and Art Practices.

Kääbuse teekonna hüpoteesile eelnev katse-teekond läbi metsatukk-põld-talu-põld-metsatukk-mägi-loss-põld-stepp

Tänavu jaanuaris tehtud test-rännak Tallinn-Riia-Praha-Budapest-Viin oli haletsusväärne katse sooritada sirgjooneline liikumine Tartust lõunasse. Eriti juba sellepärast, et reisi lähtepunktist -Tartust- sai mööda põrutatud.

Riia

Bussijaam…või kuidas seda nimetadagi?! Pärast mitut tundi sõitu läbi hämara, õhukese, võsase, madala, muhukampsunliku ja marksoosaareliku Lääne-Eesti, on viimaks käes esimene indoeurooplaste laagriplats, kus praksuvad lõkked ja lapsed jooksevad käratsedes üle kuiva, kiviklibuse väljaku, kus habemetega vanamehed peavad aru, kus üksikuid vastupuiklevaid kitsi veetakse nurga taha, kus vanamutt hapendab kapsaid, kus eesel peatub, kus hutsulid mägedesse lahkuvad ja kahvatu kuukihva all joodab kääbus üht tääglit. Või on need putkad, kioskid, pirukamüüjad, taskuvargad, tuvid, suitsukonid või on need tühjad, kõledad tasandikud, vinguv tuul ja tarduv männimets, või on need kivikirved, pleekinud kondid, puruks löödud ahvikolp ja rebitud lehtedega evangeelium? Väljas, kollases suitsus ja metsikus kaoses, keset pundunud hobuseraibet ehk moondunud inimjäsemeid oli midagi viltu läinud! Ma võin kas eksida või siis ulatub minu kolmas silm ajas liiga kaugele tagasi. Ajalooteljest kõrvalekaldumine on igal juhul sotsiaalne error. See selleks, jõeäärne pinnas on palju kihilisem kui jõgi ise, st Väina jõgi, mis suubub küll Läänemerre aga mille sisemine tõmme kisub mööda põhja eemale rohetavate oblastite vahele. Seda mööda pole ime, kui emajõelased käisid kreekas ehk kaugemalgi veel. Kust mujalt sattus kreeklane Tartusse ja türklane Karlovasse?

Astun suure, kollast värvi kahekordse bussi umbsesse sisemusse. Seinad ja põrandad on kaetud siniselillamustriliste vaipadega, inimesed istuvad põrandal ja valavad samovarist endale teed alustasside peale. See imelik ruum on slaavi naiste magusat parfüümilõhna triiki täis tangitud, keha jääb halvatuks, kui seda endale sisse hingata aga hinge kinni hoida pole ka mõtet – kas pole moskoovid ometi võrratud? Esimene olend, keda ma nendes vaibastes katakombides kohtan, ongi plaatinablondide juustega jässakas vana slaavitar, leopardimustriline särk seljas, ja liigutab end kohmakalt otsekui esindusgorilla. Istun teise ritta ja tunnen end uhkelt nagu välismaal. Kohe lähebki Praha poole sõit lahti. Ja kohe on õhk täis vaime, kes kummitavad mind monotoonselt kogu tee.

Näiteks üks, kes istub mu ees. Tagasihoidlik noormees, pealtnäha mõnest Kesk-Venemaa tööstuslinnast. Tihedatest mustadest juustest ühtlane, kergelt välja kasvanud siilisoeng, kaunistatud aastaajale viitava dekoratsiooni – kõõmaga. Kahvatu-kollakas nägu, pisikesed tumedad, vilkad silmad kissitamas, sest rõõm põnevast välisreisist on suur. Paugupealt tunnen ta ära! Sergei. Vanaema kasvatatud, töökas, tubli, viisakas. Joonestamine huvitas teda juba lasteaias aga samas miks mitte ka klaverimäng. Infrastruktuuri projekteerimine on see, mida ta nüüd instituudis õpib ja välismaale läkitab. Aga vanaema ja klaver ootavad. Noormees on tagasihoidlik. Kuhu viib tema tee? Korraga prantsatab ujeda Sergei kõrvale sitke olekuga kiilakas noormees, kõrvaklapid kõrvas, lõuad üles-alla nätsu mälumas. Stass, tulihing! Brat Sergei-i! Mässaja! Tal on kahvatu nahk, Leningradi nahk. Noormehed hakkavad rääkima. Stass jahvatab, Sergei kuulab. Peamiselt kissitab silmi, noogutab. Stassi põhjamaises kestas möllab tuline veri, Sergei näost peegeldub aga päevalillepõldude kuld, kesksuvine leitsak paplite vahel, roheliste muruplatside ja purskkaevude tagune unnesuikunud instituut. Stass jahvatab Venemaa ajaloost, suurtest vallutajatest, Aleksander Nevskist, Smolenskist, maailmasõdadest, Sergei ainult noogutab, vahepeal poetab vanamehelikult erudeeritud kommentaare, justkui oleks tal iga asja kohta oma kaalutletud seisukoht. Ja tõrges, kuidagi kriitilise hoiakuga suhtub ta Stassi. Kehakeel seletab kõik. „Muidugi, Smolensk, võti kreeklaste juurde!“ kraaksatab Stass. Sergei ei ütle midagi, ehkki tema skeptilise meele taga on vaim, mis oskab nautida ajaloo ilu. Bussi teise korruse esiklaas kisub uduseks. Kui alguses oli Stass see, kes käega klaasi klaariks tõmbas, siis mõne aja pärast väljendub poiste nohisev üksmeel nõnda: patrav Stass tõmbab käega suurelt üle klaasi, Sergei, omaltpoolt hõõritseb kah, justkui kinnitades sellega oma kaudset nõusolekut Stassi krehvtistele seisukohtadele. Ja kuhu siis noormehed põrutavad? Stass – Nürnberg. Ajaloo riukad ja ikka veel hellad valupunktid. Sergei – München! Kogu tema vaoshoitus viitab suurejoonelisele ajatusele, rahule. Mägede ilu näib tõmbavat seda noormeest. Nürnberg ja München, nagu kaks vastandlikku, ent noorusest leegitsevat meest, justkui ürgjõed, ikka Sergei ja Stass, ikka Sõrdarja, Amudarja.

Leedu

Läti peaaegu olematu keskkoht saab läbistatud imekiirelt. Ja maastik ei muuda end niipea, ehkki tunne on, justkui toimuks liikumine põhja, mitte lõunasse. Iga lõuna poolt läheneva riigi ülesehitus eeldab põhjale lähenemist. Kui Lõuna-Eestis on vahel tunne nagu juhusliku liivapaljandi sisse uuristatud röövlikoopa kaudu saaks minna Rumeeniasse ja Ungarisse, siis Lätis on tunne nagu asuksime endiselt Pärnumaa võimsate männimetsade vahel. Mis aga juhtub Leedus? Muutus on bussiaknast välja vaadates kohemaid arusaadav. Põllud kisuvad seal laiemaks, silmapiir kaob ära. Kõikjal on lagedad väljad ja vaid üksikud, harvad metsatukad. Muu kõik on sama ja tavaline, et ikka põld, talu, metsatukk, põld, talu, metsatukk, jne. Raske on aru saada, kas talu puhul on tegemist tõesti talu või hoopis külaga. Metsatuka näol on tegemist eelmiste, juba läbisõidetud riikides eesleiduva padriku miniatuuridega. Eks see puudutab vaid Leedu teatud osi. Lõuna-Leedus muutub maastik märgatavalt. Tekivad sellised kuplid, mille taolisi pole ei Eestis ega Lätis. On ka loogiline, kuna sealkandis asuvad ka sookilpkonnade põhjapoolseimad looduslikud elupaigad. Ja idakaarde vaadates tekib unelus lähedalasuvast unistuste maast, Valgevenest, sealsetest soodest, järvedest, jõgedest ja muidugi sookilpkonnadest.

Poola

Kaunases tuleb bussi peale traagiline paar. Mees ja naine, 20 aastat hiljem. Välimuse poolest erinevad nad meist kõigist, kes me siin bussi peal oleme – peamiselt slaavi ja kasaari hordid. Neis on tunda impeeriumi pärandit ja katoliku usku. Mees, nii neljakümne ringis – tugev nagu isakaru, nina aristokraatlikult kitsas ja kongus, kergelt habetunud, peas tihe pahmakas juukseid. Maestro! Pole kahtlustki. Küllap viiuldaja või klaverimängija. Ja tema naine – blond, vagane, kogu oma kehakeelega armastav ja toetav. Sellised naised on küdevate halgude vahelt päästnud nii mõnegi suurteose käsikirja, aidanud elule nii mõnegi geeniuse, jäädes ise varju, olemata õnnetu, tundmata pahameelt muusade üle, kes on ajutised nagu ühepäevikud. Ta on Maestrole toeks just nüüd, kui neid kiusatakse taga! Münchenisse viib nende tee! Õigust taga nõudma, tuult alla tegema aferistlikele sarlatanidele, plagiaate paljastama, pihta pandud partituuri tagasi nõudma! Maestro on napisõnaline, vaatab enda ette. Kampsun seljas, viigipüksid jalas. Naise vaikse jutu peale vaid noogutab vahel või kehitab õlgu. Eks ta on oma mõtetega juba Münchenis, seisab keset kohtusaali ja esitab süüdistusi ja kaebusi, taotlusi ja hagisid. Ega see läheb inimõiguste kohtusse välja! Ka ÜRO ei jää mängust välja! Naine avab moonakoti ja peagi täitub kogu buss vorsti, hapukurgi ja sibula lõhnaga. See lõhn on läbistanud sajandeid, kõiki tõldu ja busse, mis on loksunud läbi Poola viljakate põldude. Eks Poolasse me olemegi jõudnud. Moonakott sulgub ja õigesti teeb! Aristokraadi jaoks ei tähenda Leedu-Poola piir mitte midagi, ent ometigi juhtub pärast piiriületust oodatud vahejuhtum. Bussi peatab tee ääres seisev rohe-valge patrull. Aeg jookseb, buss seisab. Politseinikel näib aega olevat vakatäis. Patrullauto kõrvale tuleb teine patrullauto, ametnikud vahetavad pahaendelist infot pahaendelisest Poola ööst. Ja siis see juhtub: „Julius Mickievičius! Julius Mickievičius! Palume bussist välja tulla!“. Seda Maestro teadis, seda Maestro aimas! Need tõprad! Oo, ei! Te ei suuda mind peatada enne Münchenit! Te ei leia mitte midagi, millega mind jaoskonda viia – selle käigu nägin ma ette, selle käigu jaoks olen ma valmistunud! Ärritunud Maestro tormab alla. Toetav naine järgneb talle natukese aja pärast. Ehk leevendab tema õrnus ja toetus raskel hetkel vihast pulbitsevat meest? Peagi on mõlemad tagasi oma kohtadel ja teekond jätkub.

Minu ees istuvad Sõrdarja ja Amudarja on osutunud tavalisteks krutskivendadeks. Õigupoolest ilmnes, et vagurana tundunud Sergei on ise pigem keevaline Sergio. Nii mõnelgi korral märkasin teda vahekäigus ringi saalimas, kaval pilk silmis, nägu naerul nagu uute totruste väljamõtlemisega tegeleval teismelisel. Seljas hall kapuutsiga pusa, jalas juba tehases katkiseks kulutatud valgete kirjadega heledad teksad. Stass on aga maha rahunenud. Enne võtsid poisid einet ja Stass osutus selleks feminiinseks pooleks. Kui Sergei tegeles ilmselt Ukraina mureliistanduste ja keemiatehaste ühisprodukti – mahlapaki – tühjendamisega, avas Stass oma spordikoti, mille sisuks arvasin ennist relvi ja poksikindaid olevat, ent sealt tulid päevavalgele hoolikalt pakitud lihatooted, süütuid ihulikke patte nautivat meelt paljastavad maiustused, millega ta oma kaaslast ümmardas. Aegajalt minu ja Stassi pilgud kohtusid. Siis, kui tagareast kostus venekeelset röökimist ja sõimu. Kuulatasime nagu kaks teravkõrvset verekoera, vaatasime üksteisele otsa ja vangutasime pead. Asusin seega Stassi poolele, kiitsin mõtteis heaks kogu Nürnbergi – otsast otsani – ja nende mõtetega ma ka uinusin, kõrval tundmatu leedutar, tagasihoidlik, peaaegu nähtamatu. Akna taga öö, jää ja lumi. Hommikupoole ööd, peale tundidepikkust und, ärkasin korra Varssavis. Lumi oli kadunud, vihma sadas, betoon valendas. Mõistsin, et ehkki maastiku- ja kultuuripõhine paradigma oli varemalt juba muutunud, isegi korduvalt, oli Varssavi ankrukiviks uuele leheküljele aastaaegade raamatus.

Tšehhi

Midagi pole öelda. Eestist alguse saav muutuste jada muutub tühiseks peale Karpaatide järk-järgulist lähenemist. Eestist lõunasse vaadatuna on Karpaadid esimene Teine Euroopa maastikul. Sookilpkonnad sookilpkonnadeks, neid (küll ärakaranuid aga mine sa tea) on leitud ka Lõuna-Eestist. Kliimasoojenemine, ebaselged juhused või koguni faunaga seotud müüdid? Kurat teab! Kurat elab Võrumaal. Aga Lõuna-Poolas tulevad vastu mäed ja mägikitsed. Mägirahvad kui läbistav Teine läbi kogu maailma. Mägirahvad, tasandikurahvad, metsarahvad, jõerahvad, mererahvad, järverahvad, saarerahvad, mullarahvad. Kui vaid saaks, kõnniks läbi Poola ja vaataks, kuidas maastik poolakat muudab. On selgemast selgem, et rohelise tasandiku hapukurgipoolakas on sootuks erinev mägilaspoolakast. Kuskil seal mägedes on müstilised hutsulid. Ülepea – kas oleks võimalik rännata ringi mööda ilma vaid mägesid kasutades? Küllap on, küllap on tee Karpaatidest Alpidesse, küllap on ajalugu näinud neid tarku, kes on tundnud selliseid teid, kõndinud mööda neid. Vaatan aknast – mäed! Sealsamas aga endiselt poolakad. Küllap juba segunenud juurtega, küllap need juured ajavad end mägedest üle ja läbi.

Oo…! Mitte iialgi veel pole ma käinud Tšehhimaal. Ikka olen teda ette kujutanud okkalise, kaljuse kõrgendikuna, imelikult kokkusurutud põllu ja viljapuuaia tiheda kooslusena, vahelduseks mõni loss. Nõnda oligi. Mägedest jagu saanud, ilmusid välja põllud. Esmakordselt oli põldude vahel näha nii palju alleesid. Paplid, küpresstammed. Tšehhi näibki olevat põld + alle, ja silmapiiril mõni mäe otsa istutatud loss, sealsamas kõrval hiiglasliku korstnaga katlamaja. Näha silmapiiril lossi on kummastav – siin, meie kodumaal, meie armsas, vennalikus Ida-Euroopas, mille alusnarratiiviks on dualistlik, sovjeetlikust mälust järele jäänud kaks ürgset elukat: Sõrdarja ja Amudarja. Lossi nägemine silmapiiril ankurdab ja legitimeerib järjekordse pöörde maastikul – ja selle pöörde aluseks on pärand. Kui palju lisab pärand maastikule tähendust! On maastikke, mille pärand on silmnähtav, on maastikke, mille pärand on nähtamatu, on maastikke, mille pärandit ei hinnata ja on ka üleilmse maastiku pärandvara. Eks pärand mõjub nõndasamuti, ülekuldavalt ka inimesele! Võtame näiteks kasvõi Julius Mickievičiuse! Tihe pahmakas lokkis juukseid! Kas ei kiusatud taga juba tema vanaisa?

(järgmistes osades tuleb juttu Prahast, kääbusest, ploomisalust, kääbusest, kääbusest, Budapestist, võluri aiast, kääbusest, stepist, Viinist, kääbusest, stepikääbusest, mullakääbusest, kääbusest, jne)