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When adapting to a new host country, one of the most important issues is social belonging – the question on what basis people feel a sense of belonging. This is a question of group identity. Group identity is based on the group’s shared history and especially on myths of common and special origins. In the narratives of the Estonians of Abkhazia, the main reason for emigration is the difficult economic conditions in the old homeland. These stories are recorded in the written memories and village chronicles of the inhabitants of the Estonian settlements in the Caucasus, which date back to the 19th and 20th centuries, but they can be heard orally even today, because the stories have been heard from parents and grandparents. Both in earlier writings and in today’s oral presentations, the conditions in the old homeland of Estonia are depicted as poor, sometimes quite unbearable. An important figure in these stories is an evil and arrogant German landlord who oppressed the ancestors of the settlers. The first chapter of the article shows the historical background of the confrontation between the Estonian peasants and the German landlords in Estonia and how it was at least partially realized as an emigration movement under the influence of the peasant laws of the 19th century. The topic of the evil landlord was taken by the Estonian settlers to the settlements in Caucasus – these were stories told from personal experiences with the landlords. The formation and transmission of stories from generation to generation as founding narratives was facilitated by the opposition between Estonians and Germans in the Estonian national discourse. The second chapter focuses on the texts that reflect landlord-peasant conflicts in Estonia at the time of emigration – the texts of the leading figures of the national awakening movement in the school- and history books. These texts also influenced the developing identity of the Estonian colonists. The article then discusses the stories about the evil landlord told in various Estonian settlements on the Black Sea coast and finally the meaning of these stories in the formation of social belonging.

At the end of the 19th century, Estonian settlers encountered malaria in the Volga region and Siberia, but outbreaks with the most serious consequences hit Estonians in the Black Sea coastal region of the Caucasus. The article looks at the first contact of the local Estonians with malaria, how the disease affected migrations and settlement activities, what the Estonians’ descriptions of the disease were, what the causes of the disease were believed to be, how malaria was treated, and what preventive measures were used against the disease. Although malaria had also been present in many parts of Europe in earlier centuries, it had almost disappeared in the second half of the 19th century due to improved hygiene and sanitation. Europeans encountered malaria mainly in colonial countries, and so did Estonians. While in Estonia there were still several outbreaks of malaria in the first half of the 19th century, it was no longer a problem in the second half of the century. Now, Estonians came into contact with malaria mainly abroad – in warmer and wetter regions, where Estonian men had been conscripted into military service (e.g., the Russo-Turkish War, the Crimean War; cf. the Turkish disease) or where they had emigrated and established settlements. The resettling of Estonians to the Caucasus, which took place in the last quarter of the 19th century, cannot be described without mentioning malaria. Malaria hit Estonians primarily in settlements built in coastal areas, where there were sufficiently moist conditions for the development of malaria mosquitoes. Estonian colonists fell very ill in the first years of settlement, and their mortality rates were high. Many Estonians decided to return to their homeland due to malaria. The struggle of the Estonian settlers of the Black Sea coast of the Caucasus with malaria occurred at a time when science had not yet discovered either the plasmodium that causes malaria or the role of mosquitoes in the transmission of the disease. The colonial authorities had introduced quinine as an antimalarial agent, which was distributed to the settlers, including Estonians, and began to drain the land, but the mechanisms of the disease’s origin and spread were unknown. This is also reflected in the disease explanations and treatment methods that were common among Estonian settlers. Folk names and magical healing methods for malaria were brought from Estonia, and were applied in combination with methods from conventional medicine. Neither the first nor the others corresponded to the true nature of the disease. Although malaria has been familiar in Estonia as well, also as a mythological disease, the mythological aspect has not been thoroughly thematized in the material of Caucasian Estonians, which does not mean that it was unknown. Although there are no surviving legends related to malaria as a mythological disease, and malaria is not presented as a disease demon, this may be due to the choice of the medium: our knowledge of Estonians’ struggle with malaria comes from reports sent to Estonian newspapers by the settlers, but the newspapers preferred to publish rational texts – the mythological side of the malaria lore, if it was known, was not present in the articles published in the newspapers. However, some treatment techniques have been preserved that convince that malaria was also explained mythologically. The treatment methods also betray the fact that the line between rational and mythological explanations may have been blurred: both old magical treatment methods and new medications offered by conventional medicine were used. As malaria was one of the main factors hindering settlement activities in the Caucasus, which is reflected by a rather extensive return migration, it acquired an important place in the so-called founding narrative of the settlements over time. Malaria was part of the wild nature that had to be conquered in order to achieve a stable existence and future for ourselves and future generations. The cutting down of dense forests and the struggle with wild animals threatening the settlers’ households was marked by hard work, which in turn testified to the settlers’ work ethic. Malaria was also attributed to intensive work. This confirmed the self-image of Estonians, for whom hard work has an important role. Information about the discovery of the causative plasmodium of malaria at the end of the 19th century, which proved the role of mosquitoes in the spread of malaria, reached the Caucasus with a slight time lag. It especially concerns the late arrival of new knowledge among the colonists – earlier knowledge about the connection of malaria with humidity and poisonous vapours remained among Estonian settlers even in the 20th century. Based on the new knowledge, the authorities improved the previous anti-malaria measures – during the Soviet times, a certain type of fish was cultivated in the water bodies, which destroyed the mosquito larvae. Swamp drainage, anti-humidity measures in building architecture, deforestation for farmlands and eucalyptus planting were in use in the late 19th century and destroyed the breeding grounds for mosquitoes even before the connection between mosquitoes and malaria was discovered. These methods are still in use today, because malaria has not really been eradicated from the Caucasus.

In the minds of Estonians Abkhazia is associated mainly with Estonians living there. When the Georgian-Abkhazian war broke out in August 1992, the Estonian state evacuated about 170 Estonians and their families from Abkhazia in the autumn of the same year. The reception of the war itself in the Estonian media was low and related to the situation of Estonians there, but the motives and direct causes of the war and the development of war events were also examined. One Baltic News Service journalist observed the evacuation of Estonians and wrote about the events of the war on the spot, but most of the authors operated in Estonia and used various sources. In today’s context, it may seem surprising to what extent materials from Russian information channels were used, but at that time it was understandable: Russia covered events in its border countries more actively than Western agencies. Materials translated directly from Russian newspapers were also published in the Estonian press. The choice of sources also influenced the framing in which the events of that time were mediated. The coverage of the war in the Estonian media has undergone significant developments over the decades. The articles published during the war presented the events in a neutral way, rather sympathizing with the Abkhazians than the aggressor. While in the first half of the war the fighters of the Confederation of Mountain People of the Caucasus were presented as allies of the Abkhazians, the articles published at the end of the war sometimes included Russians, although the contribution of the Russians was not explained. However, even at the end of the war, the coverage remained largely neutral, conveying the views of both Georgians and Abkhazians. From the middle of 1994, the reception of the war began to change, which was related to Georgia’s international self-assertion. Reports from international organizations increasingly highlighted the issue of Georgian war refugees and Georgia’s claim to territorial integrity. This was also reflected in the Estonian media, where Abkhazians were increasingly called separatists without the right to independence. However, until the end of the 1990s, some articles were published that also provided Abkhaz views on events. Estonia had taken a clear direction towards integration with the West, but there was no clear understanding of Georgia’s orientation, which also influenced the attitudes of Estonian media towards Georgia-Abkhazia relations. Georgia’s leader, Eduard Shevardnadze, maneuvered between the West and Russia, pushing Abkhazia into an economic blockade and concluding agreements with Russia, while seeking integration with NATO and the European Union. The situation changed dramatically after the Rose Revolution in Georgia, when Mikhail Saakashvili, who had come to power, began to move unequivocally on the path of Western integration. At the same time, Georgia’s relations with Russia deteriorated. Georgia, a small brave country in conflict with Russia, suddenly became Estonians’ ally and friend. The common enemy unites, and when Saakashvili’s rhetoric gained a firm foothold in Georgia’s territorial integrity, Abkhazia was clearly positioned in the Estonian mainstream media as a separatist Russian puppet. Retrospectively, the reception of the Georgian-Abkhazian war changed – the pluralistic approach of the 1990s was replaced by the Georgian version. In this connection, the portrayal of the role of the Russians in the war also changed: peace mediators in the early 1990s or postcolonial implementers of the divide et impera principle now became allies of the Abkhaz. After the Law of Occupied Territories was adopted in Georgia on 23 October 2008, the concept “occupied Georgian territory” as an epithet of Abkhazia appeared in the Estonian media. As Russia continues to be in the position of a negative external “stranger” for the Estonian media, Russia’s relations with Georgia continue to influence our media attitudes towards Abkhazia and interpretations of the Georgian-Abkhazian war.

The article examines Baltic German research expeditions to the north-western Caucasus, including Abkhazia, in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, and analyses the results of these trips. Although some of these researchers, such as Peter Simon Pallas and Heinrich Klaproth, came from Germany, most of the researchers were from the Baltic provinces of the Russian tsarist state: Johann Anton Güldenstädt, Otto Moritz Ludwig von Engelhardt, Johann Jacob Friedrich Wilhelm Parrot, and Theodor von Tornau. The main focus of the article is on the descriptions of the north-western region of Abkhazia, where the historical region Dzhigetia or Small Abkhazia is located, and which was inhabited by the Dzhiget ethnic group until the 1860s. Using data from Baltic German authors, especially Theodor von Tornau, an attempt is made to answer the question of whether or not Dzhigetians belonged to the Abkhazians. The article provides an overview of the historical location and fate of Dzhigets in the 19th century. In general, the descriptions of the peoples of the Caucasus provided by the authors of the late 18th and early 19th centuries are superficial and do not follow a uniform classification. Therefore, their interpretation offers different possibilities today. The examples of recent interpretations given in the article convince us that Russian and Abkhaz authors have interpreted earlier authors differently. The most comprehensive accounts of Dzhigetia come from Theodor von Tornau, and it can be argued that the Dzhigetians were an Abkhaz ethnic group. The question of the affiliation of Dzhigets is important in today’s border disputes between Abkhazia and Russia. In the last decade, Russia has made territorial claims to Abkhazia in the region of historic Dzhigetia. It is also declared among the Russian scientific community that Dzhigetia is not historically-ethnically within the borders of Abkhazia. However, Tornau’s data refute these statements of Russian authors. The ethnicity of the peoples of the border areas would probably not solve today’s border problems, but would give to the parties of the dispute symbolic capital and moral support to defend their positions.

When analysing the religious situation in Abkhazia, the Abkhazian authors present it primarily as a peaceful coexistence of different religions – Christianity, Islam, and native Abkhazian religion. Religions that have existed in Abkhazia side by side for centuries have shaped the worldview of the Abkhazians, which, according to some authors, have a strongly syncretistic shape. Along with syncretism and peaceful coexistence of religions, the Abkhazian authors emphasize the deep Christian roots of Abkhazia: many articles and books show how Christianity reached Abkhazia already in the first century, how it became state religion in the 6th–7th centuries, and how the Abkhazians have dealt with the Christian mission in the Caucasus. Sometimes this emphasis has a political background. When the Georgian-Abkhaz War (1992–93) took place, some Georgian politicians in the confrontation with Abkhazians emphasized the religious aspects of the conflict, and even later tried to present Abkhazia as a Muslim country. The article looks at Abkhazian religious life in the historical perspective and seeks to find explanations for the religious situation today. It also deals with religious image reproduction: Abkhaz authors’ efforts to get rid of the Islamic image of Abkhazia created by the Georgians. In the Soviet period all religions suffered from anti-religious repressions, mosques and churches of many Christian congregations were closed down, religious rituals were banned and carried out only secretly, and clergymen were repressed. Although after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the war of 1992–93 religious life is allowed again and even favoured by the authorities, the number of eager believers had remained small. Alongside the peaceful coexistence of Islam and Christianity, which is presented by many Abkhaz authors as a good example to be followed by other countries, we also have to speak about formal religiousness and religious secularization.

The article discusses the activities of August Martin in the Caucasus, where he organised cultural life in Estonian settlers’ society, strengthening their ties with the motherland Estonia and organising a correspondents’ network to collect folklore and write down memories in their villages. August Martin, born in 1893 in Virumaa, Estonia, was a schoolteacher who spent almost all his long life (died in 1982) in his home county, but worked for six years (1915–1921) as schoolteacher in Abkhazia, in Upper Linda village, which had been established by agrarian settlers from Estonia. In the 1880s, a number of Estonian villages were founded in Abkhazia: Estonia, Upper and Lower Linda, Salme, and Sulevi. Estonians also lived in Sukhum, the administrative centre of the region and later the capital of Abkhazia. Martin arrived in Abkhazia in 1915, after he had been prohibited to work as a schoolteacher in Estonia for political reasons. As an active person, Martin organised the cultural and economic life of Estonians in Upper Linda village and Sukhum. Beginning in 1916, he was a member of the board of the Estonian Economic Society of Sukhum, as well as the chairman of the Education Society of Upper Linda. In 1917 he was elected the chairman of the council of the Estonian settlements in South Caucasus. In addition to leadership positions in Estonian organisations, in 1919–21 August Martin was elected to the Abkhazian parliament. As an Estonian nationalist, he welcomed with great sympathy the Abkhaz nationalists’ demands for independence. Because of his pro-Abkhazian thoughts and activities in Abkhazia, which since the summer of 1918 had been occupied by Georgian militants, August Martin found like-minded people among Abkhaz nationalists, but fierce opponents among Georgian Mensheviks, who formed the parliamentary majority. After the Bolsheviks had come to power in Abkhazia in 1921, August Martin re-migrated to Estonia with his family. Because of the closure of the borders between Soviet Russia and the Republic of Estonia contacts with the Caucasian Estonians were almost broken off. Martin began to visit Abkhazia again in the late 1950s; he warmed up relationships with old acquaintances from the Abkhazian Estonian society and encouraged them to write down memories and histories of their villages.

Ethnologists have been studying how people visit their former homelands mainly because of the semantic importance of the notions home, homelessness, nostalgia, roots and identity.Over the years, hundreds of people have moved to Estonia from Upper Suetuk, the village that was established by Estonian immigrants in southern Siberia in the 1850s. The former villagers visit Upper Suetuk frequently because the village identity and villagers’ solidarity have traditionally been strong in Siberia. The highlights of these visits are celebrations of St. John’s Day, on July 6 and 7, when the anniversary of the village is also celebrated.The aim of this article is to analyse a two-week trip to Upper Suetuk in summer 2010 by a group of people originating from the village. The authors present the trip to the former home village as a pilgrimage and analyse it by applying Victor Turner’s model of rite of passage. While collecting data for the research, the authors relied substantially on video camera as a methodological tool, in addition to participant observation and interviewing.The main focus of the analyses lies on the liminal phase of the trip, when the individuals find themselves withdrawn from normal modes of social action. The authors concentrate on the group’s behaviour (communitas) in the state of anti-structure, as well as on emotional and sensory aspects of this liminal phase of the trip. One of the most important notions here is the sense of freedom: many members of the group experienced it during the trip in Siberia, knowing that it cannot be transported back home. The authors show how the codes of language and behaviour keep changing during the trip; what significance the landscapes, buildings, special places and objects have for the people visiting the village after years of absence; how memories and sensory perception contribute to the emotional and embodied experience of the visitors.The trip to the former home village on St. John’s Day is a good indicator of the interaction between the present and former villagers and it can be useful for analysing the identity of both groups. The reason why people go for a pilgrimage – be it the real one or the quasi-pilgrimage as in this case – is to gain blessing, health, harmony and freedom. This paper is an attempt to demonstrate that pilgrimage-like trips can be undertaken also with an aim to go back to the roots or to the place of origin, in order to reinforce one’s identity. By visiting the former homeland, „the pilgrims” blend their two separate and somewhat partial identities into a single, coherent one.

The article focuses on an Estonian migrant’s view of the landscape, its specificity and change through the migration process. The change of the homeland is analysed as a cultural rapture. Physical relocation also brings along changes in the social and historical-cultural environment. The author investigates how the change of the homeland is expressed in terms of the landscape – which strategies are used in depicting foreign landscapes and how a foreign landscape is turned into a home, and also examines whether and how migrants attempt to compensate for the changes and preserve cultural continuity. The article dwells upon how the landscape reflects the different phases of the migrants’ adaption period, and talks about home landscapes as well as foreign ones and their comparison in the migrants’ stories. It also discusses in what relationship the landscapes of the old and new homelands are for different generations of migrants.As the Estonian diaspora is geographically wide, comprising almost all the continents, the text excerpts used are also collected in different countries. Most of the material comes from the letters written by the migrants. These letters have been sent from Siberia, Caucasus, South- and North America or Australia and have been published in the press. The letters are complemented by interview texts from the author’s fieldwork trips to Estonian diaspora groups.

Approximately 16,000 people left Estonia during 1924–1938. Among the new destinations, the most important ones were South American countries, especially Argentina and Brazil. At the time, Argentina was an attractive destination for immigrants. In the first half of the 20th century, Argentina surpassed the majority of European countries with regard to the income per capita, health care and education. The first larger group of Estonians (30–50 people) arrived in Argentina in 1924. In each following year, the number of Estonian immigrants fluctuated between 40 and 60, so that by 1930, about 300–350 Estonians lived in Argentina, mostly in the capitalBuenos Aires.The current article examines, on one hand, the relationship between (external)environmental conditions of migration and (internal) personal migration related decisions. On the other hand, the micro level of migration is analysed through a biographical narrative, particularly focusing on the impact of personal migration and the adaptation story on the retrospective autobiography. The micro level of migration is observed mainly on the basis of an autobiographical novel by Raimund Põdder. His earlier written travelogue, and the letters and surveys of other Estonian settlers in Argentinaoffer opportunities for substantial comparisons. Text examples from the writings of R. Põdder, presented in this article, are inclined to give evidence of a typical voluntary labour migrant: young, unmarried man, whose first phases of adaptation pass without obstacles. However, some background information allows the conclusion thatthe orientation phase of the adaptation was not without conflicting moments which could leave a nostalgic stamp on the retrospective analysis of his personal life.

The article discusses the adaptation process of repatriates, the practical value of ethnic stereotyping and its relation with everyday communication. The paper seeks to answer the question to which extent is the stereotyping process related with biography and the actualisation of stereotypes in specific situations? The analysis is based on interviews with two Estonian repatriates from Siberia following the public unrest related to the relocation of the bronze statue of a Soviet soldier in Tallinn in April 2007. The author concludes that reciprocal ethnic stereotypes are directly linked to biographical situations, and also to the idea that ethnic stereotypes might be of huge importance in the orientation and identification of a person in a specific biographical situation, while being quite marginal or non-existent in another. Stereotypes are never isolated and are closely related to other cognitive schemes, while shaping people’s attitudes and behaviour. In recent years several studies on the Russian population’s loyalty to Estonia, their willingness to learn the official language, adjust themselves to the cultural and political values in Estonia, and apply for Estonian citizenship have been undertaken. While learning about the population’s orientation, individual selfidentification conditioned by a specific biographical situation has to be seriously considered.The author claims that the use of ethnological methods (dense description, indepth interviews) may contribute greatly to the study of national stereotypes and, in turn, to the study of national conflicts and xenophobia.

The article discusses popular mycology and its impact on the subcultures of drugs in industrial society. The introduction provides an overview of the leading representatives of ethnomycology and their works, such as R.G. Wasson, who has studied hallucinogenic fungi in Mexico and India, and J. M. Allegro, who in his language-centred approach has attempted to introduce evidence on the central role of the red toadstool (Amanita Muscaria) in oriental mysteries. The article provides an overview of the methods he used, indicating the speculative nature of his hypotheses, and describes Allegro's influence on the wider public and on authors from the 1980s onward (e.g. E. Klapp, W. Bauer, T. McKenna). Literature about hallucinogenic mushrooms has partly shaped the ideology of these subcultures - almost as if the ancient cultures had observed a strong tradition of drug ingestion, which has been forgotten and needs to be revived. It is necessary to remember that culture functions as an entity and that the effect and function of a cultural phenomenon ripped out of the original context may constitute something altogether different after revival.

The article analyses the importance of cemeteries among the Estonians in Siberia. The Diaspora of the Siberian Estonians has formed during the past 150 years, comprising the descendents of deportees and voluntary emigrants. The Estonians in Siberia have lived more or less in isolation, having distanced themselves from foreign-language- speaking neighbours: this need for privacy is evident even today. Cemeteries are no exception. In the Diaspora, several cultural elements may have been attributed additional meanings that they lacked in the source country, and, in the isolation, may have begun to symbolise the lost homeland (the language, religion, calendar, etc.). One such symbol of homeland for the Estonians in Siberia is also cemetery. The cemeteries of the Siberian Estonians are organised according to the territorial principle. If a village has a multi-ethnic population, then the dead are buried to the section belonging to this particular ethnic/religious group. The group, who has formed a community in life, will continue to do so in death. The cemetery is a place where our worldly existence ends, a place which extends to eternity. And since our worldly existence follows certain rules, a cemetery (and its appearance) must follow certain order as well. The Estonians have not been accustomed to the bleak and treeless cemeteries of other ethnic groups and, unlike other Siberian settlers, have tried to mark the graves with trees, steppe or field flowers. The same applied to the appearance of villages - it is characteristic of the Estonians to plant trees around their houses. The symbol of cemetery as a homeland is reflected also in the tradition of the settlers in sister colonies to bury their dead to the cemetery of their mother colony. The Estonians in Siberia have brought back a handful of soil as a symbol of their homeland; this custom, however, is not known in Estonia.

The songs of Siberian Estonians are either those they brought from the fatherland, created on the spot or adapted from local people, mainly Russians. Songs that originate from the fatherland are mainly patriotic songs that were first used to maintain the Estonian-related identity but were later modified to help determine the connection with their home in Siberia. In the habitats of the descendants of deported Estonians (e.g. the village of Upper Suetuk) relatively more prison songs are sung than in the villages of emigrants. Some songs are partly in Russian, though such songs have also been recorded in Estonia. Some Russian songs sung were in Estonian (e.g. the "Pradyaaga song") are considered Estonian by Siberian Estonians. In addition to supplementing the repertoire, Russian songs also influence the style of performing. Thus they sing in a "tinnier" and higher voice, duets are common, girls walk on the village street singing in a loud voice. There are relatively less choir songs in Siberia, though there has been and is both an active choir and trumpet band and settlement song festivals have been held.

On a wider basis, the topic of the dead child in folklore includes conceptions like the born dead, children dying or killed in infancy or childhood. In the present paper, the only discussed phenomenon of the kind is that of killing or executing the child. In Estonian folklore, the killer is most commonly the single mother. There are texts where the characters are both murdered children and their mothers; in others only one of the two is active and the other is only mentioned, if even that. As Estonian folklore lacks legends of independent supranormal childkilling beings, folkloristic treatment of the material would allow focusing only on the character of the murdered child. In the present paper I have tried to give the wider background of the phenomenon, making it necessary to pay attention to social factors and view the material from a wider point of view.

In the summer of 1996 on the fieldwork in the near-border area of Setumaa Pihkva oblast I collected all kinds of oral lore, but the dictophone also caught all kinds of information that was secondary from the point of view of legend and memorate texts, but that later while listening to and transcribing the tapes became more and more important. That information is laughter.I guess every religion researcher who has been to fieldwork has witnessed a situation where an informant , talking of some religious object or phenomenon, starts to laugh because of conflicting feelings even though there is nothing to laugh at. To understand the function of laughter in the given situation it is necessary to get rid of the rigid associations between laughter and jokes or at least admit the possibility that in every association laughter need not be caused by merry mood. The phenomenon has been treated in several ways. V. Propp has turned attention to the religious, ritual background of laughter. According to him, laughter has a different meaning in every context. Thus laughter was forbidden where the world of the dead crosses with ours. Propp suggests possible connections for that motif with the shamanistic conception of soultravelling. At the same time he gives an example of using laughter as a magical instrument (Propp 1976: 178-192).Herbert Spencer has mentioned the connection of laughter with the controversary, but also with the degeneration of the phenomenon (Spencer 1939). The changing of every situation from big to small, from valued to nonvalued, form dangerous to safe may cause a relieving situation, a comical effect. If some important ethnicity carrying some value suddenly loses its characteristic feature, the situation may seem comical to the observer. He laughs and is happy to be above the situation (Knuuttila 1992: 106-107). Listening to the fieldwork tapes it is noticeable how often informants burst out laughing while talking about mythological beings.This is often caused by the direct outslipping of this area from the sphere of reality. From the frightening and the mysterious has become just laughable in the process of demythologizing and degrading. Thus such laughter is often an indication of secularization, estrangement from the religious world view. It shows that authorities in the traditional culture are not valued anymore, that what might be the main permanent value that keeps the tradition alive and from losing its identity is honoured no longer. Changes paralysing the functioning mechanisms of enculturistation have taken place. The older generation cannot make the younger take over the traditional thinking and behaving formulas.It is quite usual that the story that was once told by the grandfather - and he heard it of course from his grandfather who heard it from his grandfather etc. - is not taken as an indisputable axiom but is confronted with all kinds of wisdom of this world. School education has made children wise and (grand)parents silly.Although the material used in the present text originates from Setumaa, I believe that the tendencies I tried to illustrate with this are characteristic to any changing culture looking for alternatives to the traditional world view.

A remarkable place in Estonian folk belief has been occupied by slime fungi Fulgio septica. It has been thought to be connected with treasure collector or even with witch. This slime fungi is the biggest of the kind in the world: the receptacle can grow up to 30cm in diameter. In the folk tradition it is known as puugipask, puugisitt (the shit of treasure bearer) or nõiapask (shit of witch). Its most common color is yellow, but there are other tones as white, or it can be either gray or red. But there are not as many variations as pilvepala (the piece of a cloud). The puugipask is left were the treasure bearer has carried something away. To protect the household against the treasure bearer the mushroom has been burnt, or nailed to the wall or cut with a sharp thing or shot with a gun.The pilvetükid or pilvepalad (the pieces of cloud) is an internationally spread concept known in Estonian, Latvian, Livonian, Votian, Finnish, Swedish and German folk belief. The pilvetükid (the pieces of cloud) is called mushrooms by M.J.Eisen: the mushrooms are almost invisible, but after rain become full of moisture and an appearance resembling jelly. The text leads to algae rather than mushrooms. In most occasions they are slime fungi - usually the specie is called Tremella nostoc, still the determination of the concrete specie is complicated because the pilvepala (the pieces of cloud) has characteristics of different biological species. The notations from Estonia say that the pilvetükid (the pieces of cloud) can be white (Räpina, Põlva), blue (Simuna, Järva-Madise), yellow (Simuna, Kolga-Jaani), gray or green (Võnnu). A single notation says that the the pilvetükid (the pieces of cloud) can be whitish blue, later when growing old it can turn into yellowish tones (Kolga-Jaani). It is obvious that different biological species are known as the pilvetükid (the pieces of cloud). The pilvetükid (the pieces of cloud) are described as follows: it is like jelly (Sangaste), sour milk (Helme), hardened bullion (Puhja), beef jelly (Varbla). The pilvetükid (the pieces of cloud) are considered to be sacred for the origin from the sky - they are taken in as a cure to recover from several diseases such as: malaria, stiching pain, typhoid fever, warts, eczema, constipation; eye diseases can be prevented by washing eyes; they are believed to make giving birth easier. According to the archive data the pilvetükid (the pieces of cloud) can also be good for quarking (Simuna), epilepsy (Simuna), swelling (Vändra), tooth ace (Kõpu).It is believed in Estonia that the pilvetükid (the pieces of cloud) cause rabies. In addition it is connected to the international motif of a patron who feeds wolves.