My Daughter is an Estonian

This is sort of my response to the post Epp has up at www.martaest.blogspot.com. I saw that one and was inspired. When we were sitting in a cafe when Marta was less than one, Epp's friend said that Marta "didn't look like an Estonian" (Epp was in the WC at the time). But if there's one thing I remember from that trip, it's feeling that if there was one person that stuck out like a sore thumb in Tallinn, it was me.

I remember we had to meet Epp at her hairdresser in Tallinn and I had to drag baby Marta with me in a cab from where Reeli & Tiit live near Pirita, to the center of town. It was gray and I was lost when we got there. And cold. And I remember Marta looking at me with these little slanty blue eyes with a bemused look of "What, you don't know where you are going? Nobody can understand what you are saying? Ha!" I knew then and there that when we were among Estonians, Marta was one of them, and I wasn't.

And then there was last summer when I brought back some sült (jellied meat) and gave it to Epp who shared it with Marta. And Marta liked it. They ate the whole dish together. I couldn't believe a child with half my genetic heritage was eating sült. But they ate it all. Again, my daughter was different; she was one of them.

Then there's little photos like the one up above, because when the Estonians congregate in the woods they like to pick berries. And Marta loves "mammu mammu"s, her favorite. A nifty trick to get Marta to stop complaining about something is to buy some berries and keep shoving them in her mouth. And she'll keep asking for more. "Veel mammud. Veel."

And there it is. The language. Thanks to Marta I have learned the word "kõndima" (to walk), mullid (bubbles), and some songs like our theme song to Mõmmi Aabits "mina olen väike, olen alas väike..." Any way, she has taught me a lot.