House Laksha
A historical essay on the Veps.
There is a land where, since ancient times, water and forest have lived so close together that it seems as though they are talking to one another. Here, fog rises over the lakes in the early morning, pines stand on the hills like silent guardians of time, and the rivers, winding through the marshes, carry not only water but also the memory of three lakes: Ladoga, Onega, and Beloye. This is the sovereign land of the Veps, the oldest indigenous people of the North.
The history of the Veps is woven from forest roads and rivers, from villages on high banks, from songs, laments, ancient words, beliefs, traditional medical knowledge, omens, and the art of dream interpretation.
The Veps call themselves by various names: vepsä, vepsläižed, bepsä, lüdinikad, tägalaižed. Modern Veps are descendants of the ancient Ves tribe, who organized their lives within a tribe led by a chieftain. The tribal council oversaw the hayfields, forests, and fishing grounds, helped the poor, reconciled those who had quarreled, and elected elders. The economy was based on agriculture and animal husbandry. The Veps learned the toil of farming early on and long preserved slash-and-burn agriculture as one of the oldest methods of cultivating the land. Where the forest became arable land, where fire cleared the way for the future harvest, the age-old northern principle was felt especially clearly: everything is hard-won, and nothing is given in vain.
The Veps kept cows, horses, sheep, and pigs. A cow provided milk for every member of the family, a horse pulled the plow and the sleigh, and a sheep provided wool. But northern life rarely allowed one to limit oneself to a single occupation. Therefore, alongside farming, there was always fishing, hunting, gathering, forest work, and crafts. Fish was almost as essential to the Veps as bread: a daily necessity, a familiar staple, an indispensable part of life. In the lakes, they caught pike, perch, and roach; in other places, entire villages were renowned for their fishing. Hunting was even more important in the old days, especially fur hunting: for centuries, fur was not merely a catch but a part of the economic life of the North.
Crafts played no less a role. The Veps were engaged in cooperage, logging, timber rafting, stonemasonry, and pottery. The lands around Oyata were particularly famous for their rich deposits of fine red and yellow clay. There, from the earth – almost literally from the very soil of their homeland – came pottery: warm, sturdy, simple, and beautiful. Veps cuisine, too, was shaped by what the fields, forests, and waters provided. Rye bread was the staple on the table – dark, dense, real bread. They baked kalitki, skants, and rybniki from rye flour. They made pancakes from oat flour. They ate mushrooms, berries, and fish in all forms: they made fish soup, dried, cured, and baked it. And to this day, the kitchen remains one of the most vibrant parts of Veps tradition: even today, the Veps bake kalitki, rybniki, and sweet pies, and in these simple flavors, the connection between the past and present lives on.
Veps clothing was beautiful without being ostentatious. Men’s shirts of white linen, women’s sundresses, warm vests, aprons, and birch bark, leather, or felt shoes – all bore the mark of labor, good taste, and a sense of dignity. Festive clothing was sewn in brighter, richer colors from store-bought fabrics; everyday wear was more austere. Even the festive sleighs, painted and ornate, spoke to the fact that beauty is no less necessary to a man than utility. But the Veps reveal themselves most deeply in their spiritual world. It was formed on the basis of ancient folk beliefs, mythology, and the art of interpreting dreams.
For the Veps, the soul is connected to the breath. As long as a man breathes, the soul lives within them; when the breath ceases, the soul departs. There is a remarkable simplicity and ancient precision in this conception: life is the breath of the world within a living man. The world is inhabited by the spirits of water, fire, the home, and the forest. Every log cabin has its own master, the pertin izand, the family’s patron. The waters have their own spirits and their own masters. Fire is considered a pure element; it must not be defiled. The intermediaries between people and all invisible forces are the noidad, sorcerers who appear to be ordinary people but possess special knowledge of healing and dream interpretation. The world around us is alive; it is attentive to people and demands reciprocal respect.
Laments hold a special place in Veps culture. Funeral laments are not merely an expression of grief, but a special language through which the living address the dead. Ordinary speech, as the Veps believe, does not reach the world of the ancestors, but laments do. Wedding laments also carry the ancient meaning of transition: the bride is, as it were, saying goodbye to one family line and joining another. In this, one hears a deep understanding that man’s life consists of milestones, and each of them must be given meaning, mourned, and accepted.
The history of the 20th century became a time of heavy losses for the Veps. In 1938, Veps books were burned, teachers and public figures were arrested and exiled, and the written language and cultural work were effectively destroyed. This was followed by administrative divisions of the territory, the abolition of national entities, resettlements, wars, the exodus of young people, the liquidation of "unpromising" villages, and accelerated assimilation. It was not a single misfortune, but a whole chain of misfortunes, each of which weakened the Veps people. The language was fading away.
The Veps population declined almost tragically throughout the 20th century. As late as the end of the 19th century, there were more than twenty-five thousand of them; in the first half of the 20th century, over thirty thousand; and by the beginning of the 21st century, only a few thousand remained. And now... there are very few of us left... but the indigenous Veps people are alive.
And when a light mist rises over the lakes and rivers of the world in the mornings, everyone can hear the lively and wise voice of the Veps.
Our dear guest, just imagine a land where water and forest live so close together that you know for certain they are talking right now. The water answers the forest with mist, the forest answers the water with its shadow, the river carries our songs on its current, and the pines stand on the hills like ancient guardians of time, and they know so much – certainly more than any book. And they await our questions.
Here, our kind friend, look at our land. The river winds through the forest, and wooden buildings stand amidst the greenery, as if on the open palm of the ancient earth – No. 35. And here is the village in autumnal gold: houses, a road, yellow trees, the forest nearby. It doesn’t just stand behind the village. It loves people – No. 34.
Dear traveler of this story, our photos cannot be viewed as ordinary pictures. You must listen to them and feel them. And we try so hard to do everything so that you can hear, feel, see, sense, and imagine. In these pictures, everything speaks to us. The tree speaks. The stove speaks. The red thread speaks. A child’s face speaks. The gate speaks, just taken out of the warmth. Can you hear it, our dear friend?
And also, our kind companion, we so want to convey the scent of the little gates, sweet pies, traditional Veps porridge, the warmth of Grandma’s box, in which lie the most cherished treasures of our people, the creak of the floorboards, the weight of the wooden door, the prayer in the bright corner, the red thread on the white cloth.
Look, our esteemed reader: a little Veps girl stands barefoot by the wooden door, serious – No. 36. And behind her are logs, a heavy door, a porch. But this is not just a house. For the Veps, a house is a living being. A house has its own breath, its own order, and its own master. It is not merely a dwelling. In the house, people are born, pray, cry, heal, bake bread, share dreams, store belongings, and pass on knowledge.
Just imagine: right now, the log cabin is looking at you with its beautiful, wise wooden eyes.
And now, our dear friend, take a look inside. Here is the stove, the samovar, the tubs, wooden utensils, pot holders, ladles, and rugs – No. 57. The stove is the heart of the home. Around the stove gather bread, warmth, water, children, the elderly, conversations, and prayers. And here is the cradle, suspended in the izba – No. 58. Just imagine, dear friend, the entire izba gathered around this cradle. Because the continuation of the family line begins with the child. And that is only right.
Our noble reader, look at the women. They sit by the window, at the spinning wheel, at their work, in the light. What beautiful hands they have! The woman at the spinning wheel seems to be spinning not just thread, but time itself – No. 1, No. 15. The woman by the window holds her work, and the light falls upon her as if the day has stopped and gently touches her hands – No. 13. And here is a girl in the half-shadow, looking straight ahead, and in her gaze lies the ancient composure of the northern soul – No. 14.
The woman with a sheet of paper or a book in her hands at the table is already a guardian of knowledge – No. 11. And here is a woman in winter by the house – No. 9. She simply stands there. And this is what true feminine dignity looks like, without a word.
And here are two women by a wooden house – No. 10. One is younger, the other older. How beautiful it is. And the faces, the faces! Look, our dear friend. Faces are so important, for our people are our faces. Here is a girl with braids looking straight ahead. She already knows something that modern adults forgot long ago – No. 5. And here are two girls in headscarves smiling, and this photo is full of youth, sunshine, northern gentleness, and Veps beauty – No. 6.
And here is a woman holding a child by a wooden wall. This image conveys so much protection, kinship, warmth, and a sense of the primordial world – No. 7. And here a woman with a child sits in a hut, in the twilight, by the window, and all the light rests solely on this closeness: mother and child – No. 8. Just as our grandmothers and grandfathers, great-grandmothers and great-grandfathers, used to embrace us. And they still do. We feel it so beautifully.
Dear reader, who has entered our story, look at the family on the porch of a wooden house – No. 4. Men, women, children. Some are sitting, some are standing, some are looking straight ahead, some slightly to the side. And all together, they are home. Children. Elders. Destiny. Family line.
And now let’s smell the scent of Veps bread. The Veps knew the toil of bread-making early on. Breathe in that scent right now. There you go. Look how rosy and warm these loaves are, with their pinched edges, alive, real – No. 32. They remember the hands that shaped them. And here are the sweet pies and berry filling – dark, thick, forest-fresh. The berries have just emerged from the moss and immediately became part of the bread – No. 31, No. 33, No. 39. How delicious!
And here are the scones, stacked in a pile, thin, homemade, serene – No. 40. Here is the dough, the dough pieces, the molds not yet baked, but already waiting to be placed in the oven – No. 43. And here are the long pies, the bread pastries in her hands. And this is no longer just food. It is a gift from God – No. 48. Where there is bread, there are the hostess’s hands. And the hostess’s hands do everything: they bake, spin, embroider, plane, weave, knit, sculpt, heal, arrange, and bless.
And now, our dear friend, look at the clothing. Veps clothing is a book unto itself. A man’s shirt made of white linen, a woman’s sundress, an apron, a sash, a headscarf, a shawl. In the photos of the costumes, you can see how the red color frames the white space, how the sash cinches the figure, how embroidery appears on the sleeves, how the fabric becomes not just fabric, but a symbol – No. 52, No. 53, No. 54, No. 55.
Although, of course, the color palette of Veps costumes is very diverse. And in our home, dear friend, there are many folk costumes with a varied, rich, and vibrant palette. We love to dress up and show off our clothes when kind people come to our home. The women’s costume is both austere and festive. White, red, blue, green, light blue, gold, a sash, tassels, clean lines: all of this speaks to man’s beauty – No. 54.
The men’s shirt is white, with trim and embroidery on the sleeves. And the fabric itself bears symbols of love, strength, and protection – No. 52, No. 53, No. 55. Oh, our dear friend, Veps embroidery is a living language. Only this language is not spoken with the mouth. It is woven across the fabric with red thread by women’s hands.
And here is a large embroidered piece: red ornaments, lace, strict rows, diamonds – No. 37. This is not just a pattern. It is the threshold between the visible and the invisible.
On another red-and-white canvas, the figures seem to stand in a row, holding the space, raising their hands, carrying within them an ancient feminine power – No. 17. And large fragments of the embroidery show just how amazing this language is. Here are birds, trees, symbols, and living guardians – No. 18, No. 24, No. 25,
No. 28, No. 29, No. 42. Even the ornamental patterns on paper look like the most amazing record of an ancient order – No. 19, No. 21.
And here is a doll in the Veps style – No. 56. And note that it has no face. In fact, Veps dolls have no faces, because such a doll does not draw undue attention to itself, does not become a foreign soul. It is an image, a guardian, a symbol of our memory and our inner protection.
Dear friend, the most important thing for the Veps is the spiritual world. And to be frank, one cannot speak too directly here. Not everything is laid out openly. Not everything can be turned into text. Far from everything can be written down right here. Most of the knowledge is passed down only by word of mouth. We do this, and we call it education. We share this with great joy, but only through a living voice, only through meeting and the right measure. Come and receive this education.
And yet, if briefly and very carefully, one can say that there are a vast number of myths among the Veps. Although recently myths about myths have also appeared, and they have distorted the very essence. But the essence is that the world of the Veps is alive. Everything has a master. The house has a master. The water has a master. The forest has a master. The fire has a master. The tree has a master. The grove has a master. Every stump, mushroom, path, and stone has a master. And every master watches you closely. That is why you must speak to him respectfully. You cannot simply walk into the forest without asking the forest’s master for permission. You cannot lie down under a tree without asking. You cannot drink water without addressing the master of the water. If a man wants to gather mushrooms, he must ask the forest’s master for permission. If he wants to spend the night under a fir tree, he must say: "Little fir tree – or rather, Master of the Forest – let me sleep here for the night." The Master of the Forest may be a short, gray-haired old man, or he may be tall, as big as a fir tree. Long-haired, wearing a shaggy cap. He may laugh so hard it chills the blood, or he may weep as if the forest itself were grieving. The forest master may give a hunter game, reveal mushrooms, berries, and even treasure. Or he may confuse even an experienced forester’s path. Therefore, one must not argue with the forest master, fight him, or test his patience. One must negotiate with him in love.
And here is the misty forest with tall trunks, where the master of the forest lives – No. 45. And here is an old man with a staff in the forest – this is also an image of the master of the forest. He can be kind, or he can lead a man astray and bewilder them if they come with evil intentions – No. 46. And here are the tree branches in close-up. Oh, those branches. The tree has been watching us for a long time. But it won’t tell everyone its secrets – No. 47.
For the Veps, a dream is a message from God without intermediaries. The most important thing is the art of dream interpretation, which is passed down only by word of mouth. The Veps have never had dream books, nor can they ever have them. Dream interpretation is a very difficult process that takes years to learn. We have been doing this our whole lives and are delighted to pass on our knowledge to all hardworking and courageous people who are ready to face their own truth and build their relationships with others in love and service to one another.
Here is a map of the Finno-Ugric languages, where among the branches you can see the Veps language – our little Veps leaf – No. 59. That is why this map resembles a tree. And rightly so. Language is indeed a tree. It has roots, a trunk, branches, and leaves. The Veps language is one of the leaves on a large ancient tree.
We are alive. And when a light mist rises over the lakes and rivers in the mornings, everyone can hear the living and wise voice of the Veps indigenous tribal people.
