Hair New Era

I’m posting this year’s first assessed piece in my Composition & Creative Writing module. The topic is very close to my heart and I became misty-eyed several times during the writing process despite the events discussed happening before I was even born. And getting a first for it suggests it might even be an interesting read for more people than just my close relatives.

“There will never be another summer like this one.”
Joel will always remember these prophetic words told to him by an old man, just like he will remember the extraordinary events that proved the man right.
In January he had married Heli, the girl on his food technology course he noticed when they were the only ones who got top marks on a test. A while later, he had convinced her to go on a date with him on the night before another test. The next day, she failed, but he still managed to get a first. After the marriage they had moved in together in a single room in Joel’s parents’ house in the suburbs of Tallinn, Estonia. By July she was expecting a child.
In September they were to start their final year of university. The knowledge brought with it thoughts of slightly panicky nature: uni is nearly over, and then what? Where are we going to work, what are we going to do? At the same time, living with the in-laws was not at all worrying. It was highly usual at the time; everybody lived crammed together with their parents. If you did not have connections in the Party, there was no way you would be allowed a flat of your own, certainly not in the city. Having a child towards the end of university was an obvious step: they were both nearly 25, what else were they supposed to do with their lives?
They got by alright. Compared to today, the shops were obviously empty. Footage of supermarkets with endless shelves stocked with food that was seen on Finnish television (the signal of which reached Northern Estonia) seemed unreal. The local shops had a couple of different types of bread, cheese and sausages all with questionable nutritional value. Shopping was made very easy: there was no worry about making the right choice; you simply bought what was available. The situation was no better with clothes. Luckily, Heli’s mother was good at sewing, so Heli was always wearing skirts her mother had made, and she even sewed herself a couple of pairs of trousers. Sometimes when she saw a person on the street wearing “real” jeans she wished that one day she would be able to have them as well, but Heli was generally pleased with her wardrobe. It was different from others, and she thought, slightly prettier.
Their only means of transport was the bus. The idea of buying a new car was laughable. Used cars were available, but they could obviously not fit in a student’s budget. The car parks in front of their university building were always half empty; and Heli could not help but wonder why on Earth they had to make them so big in the first place, as it seemed clear they would never be full. (Needless to mention, now that their son goes to the same university, they are seriously lacking parking spaces close to the building.)
The main difference from today’s world was that the people looked and acted and were all very similar because everyone had the same limited opportunities. Well, the people who belonged to the Party lived a different life where they could eat bananas and caviar every day, and there were those who had friends in Finland, and who would be sent several pairs of jeans, but most people ate the same bread, cheese and sausages, watched the same one Estonian TV channel and read the two Estonian newspapers. The children went to interchangeable pioneer camps, and had the same basic childhood. Everyone was economically equal: they were all poor. This kind of cloning effect was clearly the aim of the regime: uniform people are far easier to control.
But things had started to change, and the snowball kept picking up pace. Gorbachev’s innovative policies of perestroika and glasnost had carelessly opened the mouth of journalism and it was proving to be impossible to shut again. Television and radio waves were suddenly filled with titillating conversation and debates. Media outlets were now more interesting than ever before – or after, for that matter. There was talk of how communism should be declared a crime just like fascism. Of how they would get by so much better without all the decisions coming from Moscow. And how they had been a sovereign nation before, and what a glorious time it had been: for example, they exported dairy products to Finland, Sweden and even Britain. There was a general newfound feeling of indestructibility. It was encouraging to see how many smart people they had, and that these people would know how to get things done.
One example of the quick and unstoppable changes was the use of the national flag. In the beginning of the year you would be sent to prison for owning it. In April, at one of the earliest events that would come to be known as the Singing Revolution three flags were displayed next to each other: one blue, one black, one white – together becoming the Estonian national flag. Everyone was shocked, expecting arrests – but they got away with it. At the next event, an open air concert, a motorcyclist with a covered face drove past the stage with the tricolour attached to his bike. A week later, the flags could already be seen on television, in the crowd during a concert. A few more weeks, and the leaders of the freedom movement were wearing national colours.
Not much Russian was heard around town, even though the decade had been spent under the burden of Russification: Russian had been spoken in shops, institutions, even at school assemblies. At the same time, the state was unable to properly teach children the language. Most boys finally learnt it in the compulsory Soviet Army, which Joel remembers as the worst years of his life. Now that everything was changing, the Russians who had been located here to further homogenise and Russify the area, were starting to worry. They were confused as to why the Estonians were causing trouble, why they would want to step out of the union of friendly nations, and unsure about what that would mean for them. But the Estonians, after 50 years of having to be careful with what they could say, had had enough.
Joel can only describe what he was feeling during the time as “butterflies”. Changes were happening so quickly that it was hard for the mind and soul to keep up. The innovative thoughts of yesterday were replaced by new ones tomorrow. Free speech, free thought – these were new and unexpected experiences. Standing, singing, breathing together with hundreds of thousands of people after decades of fearful silence, Joel kept asking himself if this was really possible, if he was really awake. Day after day, all summer. But even with the craziness around them, Heli’s thoughts kept slipping back to the child she was going to have. She started noticing children’s clothes in shops and mothers pushing prams on the street.
Nevertheless, for her it really was a Singing Revolution, because at the time she was a member of Estonia’s top choir, and they were among the first ones to sing the newly written patriotic songs that soon became national classics. However, she admits that at the time she was unable to truly understand the magnitude of what she was a part of; being young, many grand things seemed easy and natural to do. But the words of these songs did have a deep impact on her. Being used to having to sing lyrics like “Great Lenin, you are generous” and “We will be guided to victory by the Communist Party,” these new songs touched something inside her. She and her friends wondered whether the words were too strong and direct. All their lives they had been used to the knowledge that everything important had to be said secretly, that it could only exist between the lines. But now they were allowed to go on stage and sing at the top of their voice: “I am an Estonian, and I will be an Estonian, because I was born an Estonian” and “Denying your nationality is as bad as selling yourself to slavery.” She notes that it is nearly impossible to explain how unbelievably powerful these songs were, to someone who has only ever lived in a free country. They were like a spell that moved people and said everything important and necessary; expressed all things that were thought, but not yet said.
She remembers The Baltic Student Song Festival Gaudeamus that took place in Vilnius on July 1-3. National flags had been seen before, but on this occasion, three people carrying the Baltic flags walked at the front of the march. She found it hard to believe even as she was looking at it. And these three flags were held up throughout the whole festival, with boys taking turns to keep guard. They all thought that the militsiya would eventually come and order for them to be removed, but they did not dare. There were so many young people together, and if they had tried, a fight would have most likely broken out. Heli wrote about this unbelievable event to Joel who was at a Soviet military camp at the time, the last one Estonian men had to go to.
At the end of the Festival all choirs sang a song together, each verse in a different language and “Eesti, Latvia, Lietuva” repeated in the chorus. She was the last Estonian in her row, five meters away from the Lithuanian choirs. Towards the end of the song all the Estonians joined hands and moved towards the others. She remembers the surprised look on the Lithuanian’s face when she grabbed her hand. Soon all the singers were holding hands and repeating the final song. At that moment Heli felt like anything was possible, that nothing would be able to stop them now.
September 11 was a Sunday. People had found out in the week that on this day there would be a big event in Tallinn on The Song Festival Grounds. Heli had been to choir practice on Tuesday and Thursday and knew what songs would be performed. The night before, she took out her national costume and made sure it was clean and ready. On Sunday, 300,000 people from all over the country arrived to an event called “Estonia’s Song.” Between the performances of old and new patriotic songs, the leaders of the freedom movement gave passionate speeches. It was the first time Estonian Independence was publicly demanded. Heli was on the stage among thousands of others: singers, speakers, politicians. And all she could see was a sea of people with no gaps between them, just faces and blue-black-white flags. This was when she thought, “We did it! It really is happening right here and now and I’m witnessing it! And soon we will have a baby and it is going to grow up in a completely different country!”
In March 1989, I was born, followed by my brother in February 1991.
Estonia regained its independence on 20 August 1991. No blood had been spilt in the Singing Revolution.