Author of Stories My Grandmothers Didn't Tell Me Andra Putnis, pens a piece for us about the creation of her novel.
It feels like life is always hurtling forwards and it can be hard to find our footing on this Earth. One thing that can help is to pause, look back and discover the life stories of our parents and grandparents. After all, context is everything and learning more about what came before us can be a rich and poignant experience.
In my late twenties, I embarked on a white-knuckle ride of intergenerational storytelling. Growing up, I’d always known my Latvian grandmothers—the two great matriarchs of my family—had hidden stories, but it wasn’t until I was an adult that I plucked up the courage to properly ask about them.
I experienced an emotional rollercoaster as their anecdotes came to life. I learnt about their different experiences growing up in Latvia in the relative ‘fairytale days’ before WWII. During this time, my grandmothers were caught up in terrible momentous events of history: the Soviet invasion of June 1940; mass deportations of Latvians to gulags in Siberia; the arrival of German troops; and subsequent Nazi occupation. They both walked hard paths through those years but managed to survive and end up in displaced peoples camps in Germany, before coming to Australia to build new lives.
Stories My Grandmothers Didn’t Tell Me is the result of weaving together their intimate accounts, and reflecting on the broader collective tale they illustrate of the hundreds of thousands of refugees who fled eastern Europe in the last months of WWII, ended up stranded as the Iron Curtain came down, and then had to find new homes across the world.
Looking back, I especially treasure the time I spent sitting next to Nanna Aline, listening to her speak about her life. Our relationship allowed for the creation of a safe cocoon in which difficult memories and the harsh realities of life could be shared. There was also plenty of space for tales of the absurd, wry laughter, family gossip and companionship over a glass of wine or two.
Intergenerational storytelling can be healing for both older family members and younger listeners. But it can also bring supressed trauma to the surface and is not for the faint-hearted. Both the storyteller and listener need to find ways to care for one another. The way Nanna Aline and I did this was by talking of the beautiful things in life as well as the hard things, and understanding that beyond the walls of her house, life was thrumming along down the generations with fair amounts of good fortune and joy.
Our grandparents and parents have seen a lot of life. And they are often able to tell their tales in a way that will have you hanging off the edge of your seat.
Or perhaps you are the one who now wants to speak? Those of you who might want to tell their life stories and have the chance to reflect may well be offering the next generation an unexpected gift. I, for one, will be forever grateful my Nanna Aline did so.
Want to be inspired to give it a go? Read Stories My Grandmothers Didn’t Tell Me to find out the extraordinary tales I discovered.
Stories My Grandmothers Didn't Tell Me
by Andra Putnis
When she breaks an unspoken family code not to dig too deep into the past, Andra is plunged into the bleak world of the Soviet and Nazi occupations of Latvia in World War II, and secret lives of her grandmothers.
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