”The Setos don’t have a future here.”
Before the WWII, Estonian border used to stretch all the way over Setomaa. Then, suddenly came the war, along came the Soviets, and the Russian border was moved slightly to the left (pun not intended). Estonia gained its re-independence in 1991, but the Soviet-era border remained, leaving Setomaa in between two nations.
We just had to go to Russia to check out, what was the deal with Setomaa and Russia.
The Seto flags are aplenty in Estonia. Traditional clothes are seen everywhere, leelo is sung every day in nearly every nook and cranny, Seto language can be heard if you listen carefully.
One could easily think this would also be the case in Russia’s Setomaa.
How wrong can one be.
There were just few visible fractions of Setomaa seen in Pechory. The recently opened Seto-house (opened with a grand fanfare this spring) was empty and felt almost like abandoned. The local monastery’s museum includes a small corner of Seto-stuff, but that’s about it. You’d really have to imagine hard to picture Pechory as the former capital of Setomaa.
Why’s that?
First of all the Seto population is way smaller than it is in Estonia. Just barely over few hundred Setos remain in the vast area behind the Russian border. How can anyone keep the culture alive in these conditions?
Second of all, nearly all are elderly among these few hundred Pechory Setos. The young ones have gone to Estonia or to larger Russian cities long ago (mainly to Estonia due to Russian Setos having two nationalities and passports: both Estonian and Russian).
The population doesn’t grow. It diminshes. Quickly.
A Pechory Seto, Helju Tsopatalo, met us in a small village outside Pechory, treated us with blueberry pie and coffee, and told us her life story. She has lived in Pechory near her whole life, has seen the Soviet era and the re-established Russia, seen her children moving to Estonia and staying there.
Tsopatalo herself didn’t move to Estonia, even though she’s also free to do so.
”This is my home.”
Setos are an official minority in Russia. That means money. According to Maaleht 74 million roubles (approx. 720 000€) was handed to (Russia’s) Setomaa to keep the culture alive. The money was used to buy tools, but also given to Setos. Everyone who moved back to Russia’s Setomaa, were given 50,000 rubles (approx. 765€).
Some came. That’s about it.
Our feelings were pretty mixed about the current situation in Russia’s Setomaa. On the other hand the government handed some money and regocnizes Setos as indigenous people. On the other hand it does nothing else to promote the dying culture.
The big, big ponder is on the abandoned-like Seto-house in the very center of Pechory. According to Tsopatalo, something ”might happen there next year”. Formerly met Estonian-Seto claimed us few weeks ago: ”meh”.
Go figure.
Tsopatalo seemed to be a bit sad talking about the current state of Setos in Russia. Fewer people are left every day. Somewhat 100 years ago there was approximately 20,000 Setos in this region. Ten years from now, and there might be none left.
”Hopefully someone will remember, that there were Setos”
Tsopatalo said that and sat silent for a while. Suddenly she stood up, and entered the kitchen to bring us even bigger slices of that mouthwatering blueberry pie.
So we sat there in silence, ate pie with blueberry coloring our lips blue in a country, whose minority is dying out.
The blueberries were freshly picked.
