In Latvia, cemeteries (“kapi” or “kapsētas”) are a very important part of life. Great care is taken to keep the graves of family and loved ones looking tidy and pretty. While in many Western [...]]]> The title of this post may seem a bit odd to most readers – how is there a culture revolving around cemeteries?

In Latvia, cemeteries (“kapi” or “kapsētas”) are a very important part of life. Great care is taken to keep the graves of family and loved ones looking tidy and pretty. While in many Western countries you will probably never meet the family members of the people buried next to your loved ones, in Latvia it is not entirely unusual to be on a first-name basis with them.

Cemeteries also host “kapusvētki” – social celebrations at cemeteries. These usually involve a religious ceremony, singing, a socializing portion, and sometimes lighting of candles. I have not yet had the opportunity to attend one, but hopefully I will when I start living in Latvia for more of the year.

To reflect the importance of cemeteries in Latvian national consciousness, a new magazine was released this summer. Called “In Memoriam”, it talks about the phenomenon of “kapusvētki”, gives suggestions for flowers and shrubs to plant at gravesites, provides recommendations for styles of gravestones, comments on the continuing debate of whether or not to include photos on gravestones, and much more. If you want to see a preview, you can do so here. According to this news article (in Latvian), two issues of “In Memoriam” will be released this summer, and number of copies sold will decide if they will release it again next year.

When I visit cemeteries in Canada, I rarely encounter other people. But cemeteries in Latvia, especially in the summer, are full of people caring for graves. Outside the front gates of most larger cemeteries you can find numerous flower and candle vendors. Proper upkeep of family graves is considered a reflection on the family, and thus socially encouraged. For those who may not be able to make the trip out to the countryside regularly to care for family graves, or for those who live abroad, some people in local communities will often offer grave care services.

Have you read the latest issue of “In Memoriam”? Does your family have its own cemetery traditions? Share your stories in comments!

On July 4, 1941, numerous synagogues across Latvia were burned to the ground, some of them with people inside. One of the most [...]]]> This post should have been up yesterday, but I was out of town for most of the day and returned with a splitting headache, so I hope you’ll accept the post today instead.

On July 4, 1941, numerous synagogues across Latvia were burned to the ground, some of them with people inside. One of the most prominent of these was the Great Choral Synagogue on Gogol street in Rīga. It was burned with 300 Jews inside. It is at the remains of this synagogue that this memorial can be found.

Memorial stone at ruins of the Great Choral Synagogue, Gogol street, Rīga, Latvia. Photo taken by the author, July 2, 2010.

It is because of the destruction on this day that July 4 is designated as the Day of Remembrance in Latvia for Jewish victims of the Holocaust.

I took more photos of the area, of what is left of the synagogue, and of the monument to the Latvian Righteous Among the Nations nearby, let me know in comments if you would like me to post more.

But back to the topic of [...]]]> Sorry things have been a bit quiet here, I’ve been busy! But in a week’s time I will be concluding my day job so that I can be on my way to Latvia for the summer, and then when I return home to Canada I will be returning to school.

But back to the topic of the post – today is June 14, which is one of the numerous days of remembrance in the Latvian calendar. This day of remembrance is for the victims of Communist terror. It is on this day because it was on June 14, 1941 that the Soviets began mass deportations of tens of thousands of Latvians, Estonians and Lithuanians to Siberia and the gulags. Another larger wave of deportations also took place in 1949.

None of my ancestors were deported to Siberia, but I have found numerous extended relatives in the 1949 deportation lists, particularly from the northern parishes of Vijciems and Lugaži. I also know that most of my maternal grandfather’s parents’ siblings disappeared during this time, but they are not mentioned in These Names Accuse (a book comprised of lists of many of those deported during this time).

I do, however, have an ancestor who was a victim of Communist terror. He was not deported, but rather arrested in 1940 not long after the first Soviet occupation began. This was my great-grandfather Arvīds Francis. He was arrested because he had been a counter-intelligence agent with the Latvian political police force. I am told that most of his time was spent dealing with threats from fascist groups such as Pērkonkrusts, but he was involved in observation of Communist groups as well. He spent the late 1920s and early 1930s as the regional leader in Kuldīga, and his work was, at times, dangerous.

He was arrested on August 3, 1940 and imprisoned in Daugavpils. He was repeatedly interrogated and on June 16, 1941 was sentenced to execution. The sentence was carried out on June 22, 1941. He, along with three other police force members who had worked in the Liepāja area, were buried outside the prison.

An interrogation file was kept, and is currently stored in the Latvian State Archives (not the Latvian State Historical Archives, where I do most of my other research). I attempted to access it when I was in Latvia in December, but was told that I would need to bring proof that I was related to him, which I did not have with me at the time. My uncle was able to access it briefly (his mother is Arvids’ daughter, hence the paper trail of documentation was shorter than it would be for me), but didn’t have a lot of time. He was able to tell me though that it was quite a large file, and mostly in Russian. Now I do have all of my paperwork in order, so I hope to be able to access it this time around.

Five years ago, I was actually in the Baltics on June 14. I was in central Vilnius (Lithuania), where I visited the Soviet Occupation Museum, and outside the walls were covered with commemorative drawings by local children and guarded by members of the Lithuanian army. Nearby was the monument to commemorate Soviet victims of terror.

Other remembrance days in Latvia associated with the Second World War: March 25 (the day the 1949 deportations began), May 8 (the end of the Nazi regime in Europe and remembrance of victims of the Second World War), June 17 (the day the Soviet occupation began), July 4 (Jewish victims, the day a Rīga synagogue was burned down in 1941 with many people inside) and the first Sunday in December (another day for remembrance of victims of Communist terror). I must remember to mention each of them again as they come throughout the year.

Were any of your family members deported to Siberia in 1941? Arrested by the Soviets during the first occupation (1940-1941)? Share your family stories in comments.

One of these people was Alma Kalniņa. Her grave marker is in the town cemetery of Jēkabpils. She was 34 years old. She is buried alongside five others who were also murdered by the [...]]]> When the Soviets invaded Latvia during the Second World War, they deported and/or murdered thousands of people from all walks of life.

One of these people was Alma Kalniņa. Her grave marker is in the town cemetery of Jēkabpils. She was 34 years old. She is buried alongside five others who were also murdered by the Soviets on June 27, 1941 – Jānis Strautiņš, Mārtiņš Rugājs, Mārtiņš Kazerovskis, Jānis Kudrašs and Valdemārs Arkliņš.

I have chosen Alma’s grave marker because she is the one that my family has a connection to. She was the secretary for my great-grandfather Augusts Lūkins, a local judge. Family stories tell me that she had been shot and tied up with barbed wire. Her body was found in a swamp.

This was not my family’s only experience of Soviet brutality. One of my great-grandfathers, Arvīds Francis, was also murdered by the Soviets. I will tell his story in a later edition of “Bringing Out the Great-Grandfathers”. Many other family members also disappeared, and are probably buried in unmarked graves somewhere in Russia.

To me, this grave marker represents more than one woman, but all of the lost family members of mine who have no grave markers of their own.

This is the memorial stone at the “Cemetery of Non-Existent Cemeteries” – a memorial built to commemorate all of the destroyed cemeteries in Gdansk, and the [...]]]> Another slightly unusual “Tombstone Tuesday”. Today I’m deviating somewhat from the “Latvian” part of this blog, because what I came across here while visiting Gdansk, Poland, really spoke to me.

This is the memorial stone at the “Cemetery of Non-Existent Cemeteries” – a memorial built to commemorate all of the destroyed cemeteries in Gdansk, and the people who may have died without having their burial places marked at all. Click on the photo to enlarge it.

Now, I don’t speak Polish, and Google Translate can be a bit dodgy, so maybe one of my Polish readers can translate what it says on the four sides of it? (only one side is visible in the above photograph) I also don’t know which side has the beginning of the phrase.

• “…TYM CO IMION NIE MAJA”

• “NA GROBIE”
• “A TYLKO BÓG WIE, JAK KTO”
• “SIĘ ZOWIE…”

Thank you for your translations!

I am currently in Copenhagen, Denmark, and one of my main reasons for coming here was to visit this memorial (click on the image to view a larger one):

It is the memorial to Latvians who died in exile in Denmark [...]]]> My “Tombstone Tuesday” submission isn’t the tombstone for one person, but rather, a memorial to many.

I am currently in Copenhagen, Denmark, and one of my main reasons for coming here was to visit this memorial (click on the image to view a larger one):

It is the memorial to Latvians who died in exile in Denmark after the Second World War. My maternal grandparents were among the Latvian DPs (Displaced Persons) who lived in Denmark during this time, before going to Canada in the late 1940s. I have a photograph taken of the memorial (found in Vestre Cemetery) by one of my grandparents shortly after it was erected, and yesterday I was able to visit it myself, and take the above photo, sixty years later.

Translated to English (in spirit, not word for word), the top inscription reads: “I rest my head on the dreams of my homeland.” The bottom inscription: “For our countrymen who died during the time of exile in Denmark – Latvian Displaced Persons, 1948″. The blocks in front of the memorial, as well as on either side it, list the names of these Latvians.

It has been difficult to find any information on Latvian DPs in Denmark, since most information about Latvian DPs talks exclusively about the DP camps in Germany. This is why it was so important for me to visit this memorial myself: It is a powerful reminder saying “We were here. Do not forget us.”