Read the interview with him below to learn more about his interests and experience so far!
How did you get connected with Jõekääru?
I was already researching Estonian summer camps around the world as part of my thesis. I knew about Jõekääru and Kotkajärve because of Katrin Tamm, who came to the Australian-Estonian summer camp Sõrve and was a juht (leader) there as well. So I had some familiarity with it. I had a few different camps I could choose from to visit, but I picked Jõekääru because I had this idea that it would be more similar to Sõrve, and especially because I thought language might be more central here [due to its original language policies] and reflected throughout the activities. Also, at Tartu Ülikool, there were three books about Jõekääru, so that helped!
Could you talk more about the camp in Australia?
Sõrve is held in New South Wales at Point Wolstoncroft on the shores of Awaaba (Lake Macquarie). In some ways, it’s very similar to Jõekääru, in terms of the songs and programming. We do similar activities, it’s primarily focused on physical activity, and then the cultural elements are incorporated throughout, like singing, rahvatants (folk dancing), käsitöö (handcrafts), and some traditional games. The language spoken is mostly English nowadays, but we have a lot of leaders who speak Estonian. We also offer Estonian language classes.
It only runs for one week, so that’s one major difference. We don’t own the site like Jõekääru does, we rent it. Our camp runs on a pay-to-volunteer model, which is different from here in North America, where people are paid to work at camps. At Sõrve, you’re paying to work as a volunteer, which makes it harder to entice people from abroad, so it’s a very tight-knit community. We usually have around 100 kids for the week. Elanikud (campers) are divided into groups from ages 0-18, similar to väiksed, keskmised, and suured [the youngest, middle, and oldest age groups at Jõekääru], but we call them F, C, B, and A groups.
It’s been really interesting to see how many similarities there are between the two camps, especially since there hasn’t been much cross-pollination. To me, that says a lot about the origins of these traditions, the influence of religious institutions, and scouting and guiding traditions—and how strongly Estonians hold onto these symbols and practices.
I’m also interested in the idea of tradition and ritual acts, understanding these camps as places people return to year after year. They book time off to come, they fly here. It’s not a simple act. Especially in Australia, the distance people travel to camp is pretty extraordinary.
(Lachlan Bell)
Can you talk more about your thesis?
I’m very interested in how new traditions emerge in summer camps, how they’re preserved in oral history and in the memory of the kids, and how quickly they can change over the years. I’m also interested in the idea of tradition and ritual acts, understanding these camps as places people return to year after year. They book time off to come, they fly here. It’s not a simple act. Especially in Australia, the distance people travel to camp is pretty extraordinary.
I think summer camps are the purest form of folklore because kids are so imaginative. Even though there’s a structure and hierarchy, the day-to-day operations are led by young adults, and there’s constant change. Everyone’s bringing new ideas. I’m interested in how the campers themselves influence the camp: what do they invent that leaders then adopt and integrate into the schedule? It becomes a back-and-forth dynamic. I think that’s really important to understand. People often see camps as fixed institutions, but when you start to notice that dynamic, it looks very different.
I think it’s good for leaders to think about why they do things and whether it’s tied to deeper ideologies. We should understand the reasons behind traditions, not just do them for tradition’s sake.
(Lachlan Bell)
For example, at Jõekääru, I’ve heard people say, “Oh, we did it this way in the past, so we have to keep doing it this way.” Even though those are often small, nuanced things, it brings up the question: why is it so important that kids do it exactly that way? I think it’s good for leaders to think about why they do things and whether it’s tied to deeper ideologies. We should understand the reasons behind traditions, not just do them for tradition’s sake.
How do you think camps like Jõekääru preserve Estonian culture?
I always advocate for the idea that Estonian identity should exist in multiple forms. There isn’t just one core Estonian identity. You can be Canadian-Estonian or Australian-Estonian, and that can mean different things. The kids here connect to their Estonian heritage through coming to camp, KJ, or Eesti Kool. In terms of Jõekääru preserving Estonian culture, I think it’s through the people who keep coming back. It’s the oral histories, the repeated actions. But it’s also what happens outside of camp—when people talk about camp beyond these three or four weeks—that’s how it stays alive. If it only exists during the camp weeks, then it’s vulnerable to being forgotten. But I’ve heard people talking about this place outside of that context, which clearly shows it means something to them.
What path do you see yourself taking from here?
For context, I studied design and media, and then I slowly moved into archive work and curation. In Sydney, I was curating shows and exhibitions. After Jõekääru, I’m helping out at VEMU in Toronto. I’d really like to continue working in archives and museums. My goal has always been to work with people and communities. Archives are important, but working with the people connected to those archives, the families, the descendants—that’s my ultimate goal.
Responses have been edited for clarity and length.
This article was written by Natalie Jenkins as part of the Local Journalist Initiative.
