art from the children on April 5

Stuart Von Wolff's speech at the memorial

We are all here as Harri’s friends. Everyone here has experienced Harri’s warmth and kindness and generosity – his joy, his fun and – I daresay – his fabulous food.

Many have attested to the fact that Harri was a teacher who made a difference. I am honoured to share a few thoughts with you about my friend: Professor Dr Harri Mürk: the brilliant, infuriatingly multilingual scholar and my inspirational mentor.

I first met Harri at the University of Toronto, quite a number of years ago, and knew him first in a very academic context. I know that every friend of Harri knew of his love of, and devotion to,
his beloved Eesti and of his perfect language abilities in Estonian and English. But Harri had an incredible, truly exceptional gift for ALL languages.

Harri was an esteemed expert on Finno-Ugric languages. I do not mean only the Balto-Finnic languages, although he certainly knew a lot about Finnish and Karelian, Inkeri and Liivi, and other languages closely related to Estonian.

But Harri could cite data or rattle off intringuing tid-bits about
Saame, Mari, Komi, or Udmurt;
he knew about Samoyedic languages like Nenets and Selkup.

And Harri was generous in sharing this knowledge. It is owing to him that I was able to incorporate data from a fascinating variety of Estonian from Kodavere. Poor Harri! I drove him crazy while working on my first masters, and badgered him to check my bad Estonian, which he always did: always with good humour, and always thoroughly and attentively, the best example of academic research.

Harri demonstrated integrity in an academy that all too often falls short of its espoused ideals. In English, people teach their children to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. In Finnish, adults remind children ‘on aina oltava rehellinen’ – one must always be honest. And honest Harri was. His honesty allowed him to voice his frustration with me: “How is it that you can speak all these languages so well, but have such a heavy Finnish accent in Estonian??”

And Harri had the right to be irked by this, especially since his Finnish was practically flawless. But then we laughed together and knocked back yet another ‘snabbli vodski’, moving our discussion from the realm of theoretical linguistics to his trying to convince me why Finnish Koskenkorva vodka was not the best… I think it’s the only argument in which Harri failed to convince me.

Harri’s linguistic gift went beyond Finno-Ugric languages. I could always rope Harri into debates about structures in all sorts of Western Indo-European languages: Irish, Welsh…
French or Spanish or Romanian, German or Afrikaans,
Danish or Dutch or Swedish.
Truly a linguistic genius, Harri was familiar with them all. But he was so humble, I don’t know that we all knew the depth of his genius.

His abilities, coupled with his humility, his availability for assistance, and his patience, coalesced to create the best mentor any doctoral student could ever wish for – and I know that the academy has lost a truly great scholar, who made positive, helpful and huge intellectual contributions through his talks and translations, his prose and his verse, and his wonderful Handbook of Estonian forms.

While modest to a fault, Harri was always quick to acknowledge the contributions of others. When he published his Handbook he insisted on acknowledging many of us in a great work that really is a monument to him – and to him alone.

Harri could often comfort and diffuse tension with his humour. But he also was a shining example of respectful conduct, through which he inspired people’s trust. Anyone whoever met Harri, however briefly, no matter the context, instinctively felt and knew that he was a dear and genuine soul.

I don’t know what I’m going to do without my quiet hero, Harri.
To all Harri’s family, I thank you for sharing him with me, and pray that you be comforted. I take comfort in Tony’s words and image, and look up to the Heavens for my Harri star.

Pictures

Mark Shapiro took great pictures at the Celebration of Harri's life and Work on April 5th, 2009.
To view them go to:
http://picasaweb.google.com/torontosouza/TheCelebrationOfHarriSLifeAndWork#

From Caroline D'Souza

Message from Caroline - Tony’s niece.
This was read out at the Celebration of Harri's life on April 5th by Harold Wright.

Ever since I found out about Harri’s sudden death, it’s been a nagging thought that I pen down a few words to celebrate his life…. To celebrate living, to celebrate the joy of family, friends and loved ones. It took me this long because I was at such a loss of words. Thoughts and memories… there are plenty, however the words weren’t doing justice to it. Today, I hope I can convey a message on how important it is to celebrate life.

I first came to know Harri when he visited our family in 1994. He was touring India with my Uncle Tony and had decided to stop in Calcutta – so that he could learn more about where Uncle grew up and lived his youth. It took him a while to get adjusted to the city and more so, the number of people he saw everywhere. His adventurous spirit even got him to agreeing to try a “meetha paan” ( sweet betal nut and spices rolled up in a leaf). He later confessed this wasn’t up his street.

I was in my teenage years and the people I met created a deep impression on me. His jovial spirit would keep Mum, Dad, Jacqui (my sister) and me entertained for many an evening. He would share interesting stories about Estonia and brought us wonderful gifts from there. It was so fascinating to meet a man who had such high levels of tolerance and patience! He would answer each and every query I had without discouraging me on my lack of awareness. (You know how many questions teenagers have while growing up)

Dad clearly remembers the time Harri showed us the pictures he had taken of the Taj Mahal ( a place which has numerous visitors each day ) Harri had taken photographs of the monument without a single person in the background – which is immensely difficult. When Dad asked him how he managed that – his response was that he went early in the morning so that he could capture those beautiful pictures. He was so original in his approach to the things he did.
He would correspond regularly and we’d always get notes, cards and postcards from him letting us know which part of the world he was touring. He wouldn’t just leave it to emails – but send it by post which made all the difference. He’d want to speak with us when Uncle would call us (long-distance) and that made us feel special to him.

My closest experience of getting to know Harri even better was when we (Mum, Dad and me) visited Toronto for Uncle Tony and Harri’s joint celebration in 2004. He lovingly welcomed us to their home and patiently explained things to us when we needed guidance. I know he’s particular about the way the kitchen is to be kept tidy among other things. He had a wonderful way of talking to everyone and I don’t think he ever held a grudge towards anyone. He was so tolerant and kind. He would prepare pancakes, maple syrup with bacon on Sundays – and I remember the first Sunday we were there and I woke up to the delicious aroma of breakfast. He explained that he wanted us to have a fill of a traditional Canadian breakfast. A special mention is the numerous fruit pies he would bake as also the fresh flowers that he showed Mum how to candy and ice to decorate cakes with. (Including the cake for the celebration)There is so much to share about every memory I have - however, every new experience we had there has his spirit attached to it and something I will cherish all my life.

For both, my sisters wedding and mine – although he was not able to attend the weddings, he graciously sent us Estonian gifts which were so symbolic, meaningful and different to what we usually receive. Harri was always unique in his own way – most precious were the doilies that his mother had hand-woven by herself. Everything given was accompanied with a note by him that enhanced its significance.

Even when I taught my Montessori children ( in Singapore ) about the continent of Europe – it was my turn to share about Estonia and Harri sent beautiful handicrafts that helped the children learn so much more. In fact he sent me a letter from there too around the precise time – so the children were able to see the postage stamp as well as a picture of the summer solstice. My husband Anil and my first Christmas away from home was made special with an exclusive Christmas mobile from Harri. He had a thoughtful, caring nature.

His love for others, his unending patience, his kindness to all, his spirit for forgiveness, his gentle demeanor, his fun-loving, cheery nature, his style of living life to the full is such an inspiration to my family and me. The heartbreaking news of his sudden demise has got me to reflect on how precious life is and how important it is to appreciate what’s around us.

It’s time we look at the infinitely greater complexity of a human person. There never was, nor ever will be, anyone like you. Harri. Let’s celebrate his life and all the experiences it brings our way and may Harri be a motivation to us to live life and celebrate it to the fullest, because each day if lived, like it is your last, will make life more meaningful.

A poem for Harri from Mary Bird

This was read out at the celebration of Harri's life and work on Sunday April 5th.


He died in winter,
a season he stood up for.
On a school day,
getting ready to teach students he stood up for.
On Estonian Independence Day,
a culture and language he stood up for.

Behind his broad smile,
warm hugs and wit,
Behind hilarity, exuberance and flair,
Lived a quiet, loving man.

He lived in his imagination.
In the stories of northern peoples,
People of war and hungry winters,
Lavish feasts and spring.

He lives,
As grand a hero as any that lived,
As any told or sung.
As mortal.

He died in winter,
on a school day,
on Estonian Independence Day.

From Joel Nevis

I am sorry to miss the program.I first met Harri in the summer of 1985 at a FUSAC conference and we were both finishing our PhD's. We met up once year after that for a decade and kept in email touch even longer; I remember one interesting incident with Harri. We both happened to be in Tallinn at the same time the summer of 1988. I had to collect a manuscript from Ingrid Rüütel, the well-known ethnomusicologist and wife of Arnold Rüütel -- then Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Estonian SSR. Her manuscript was not ready so she came later to meet me at a cafe where I planned to meet up with Harri. By the time she got there, there were a number of dissidents with Harri, and we accidentally reacquainted opponents who might otherwise avoid one another: subversives wanting more freedom from the Soviets and a seemingly well-connected party apparatchik at a time when the Soviets were still in control of Estonia.

Joel Nevis

From Guntis Šmidchens

Harri’s songs
Guntis Šmidchens

Harri was my teacher, too. I’m one of the lucky people who studied Estonian language and culture in his classes at Indiana University. We shared a passion for the study of folksongs – Estonian regilaul and Latvian daina. We agreed that it’s impossible to translate this poetry into English without losing most of the meaning. But maybe, just maybe it’s possible to communicate between the two languages, Latvian and Estonian.

Harri translated these Latvian dainas into Estonian. The first song, three stanzas long, is about overcoming grief by singing: “I put my troubles under a rock, and walked across them, singing; the more difficult life became, the more beautifully I sang.” The second is a funeral song. In Latvian folk tradition, songs about the deceased are often sung in the first person. The living can thus sing about the dead, or empathize with the dead. Or we can imagine that the dead speak to us. “So many people have arrived, everyone is here, they are carrying me to the cemetery. Sing while you carry me, don’t cry, so that my soul may fly to heaven, singing.”


Läti rahvalaulud
tõlkinud Harri Mürk

Bēdu manu, lielu bēdu, Mure, mure, suur mul mure,
Es par bēdu nebēdāju! Ei ma murest hoolinud:
Liku bēdu zem akmeņa, Mure panin kivi alla,
Pāri gāju dziedādama. Astsin üle laulessa.

Es negāju noskumuse Ei ma läinud kurva meeli
Nevienā(i) vietiņā: Ei ma nuttes kuhugi:
Ar dziesmiņu druvā gāju, Läksin lauluga kesale,
Ar valodu sētiņā. Aias käisin kõnega.

Jo man sūri, jo man grūti, Mida mõrum, mida raskem,
Jo es koši padziedāju, Seda laulsin kaunimin(i),
Jo es koši padziedāju, Seda laulsin kaunimini,
Asariņas slaucīdama. Kui pisara pühkisin.





Pilla sēta sirmu zirgu, Täis on aeda täkkusida,
Pilla kaltu kamaniņu: Täis on kauneid korjusida:
Dēli, meitas sabraukuši, Pojad, tütred koos on tulnud,
Vedīs mani kalniņā. Toovad minu kalmule.

Vedat mani dziedādami, Tooge minda laulaessa,
Nevedati raudādami. Ärge tooge nuttaessa.
Lai iet mana dvēselīte Mingu minu hingekene
Pie Dieviņa dziedādama. Jumalale laulaessa.