---
title: "Visit behind the Iron Curtain"
id: "4714"
type: "post"
slug: "visit-behind-the-iron-curtain-part-i"
published_at: "2016-09-29T16:56:18+00:00"
modified_at: "2026-05-14T18:36:36+00:00"
url: "https://estonianworld.com/life/visit-behind-the-iron-curtain-part-i/"
markdown_url: "https://estonianworld.com/life/visit-behind-the-iron-curtain-part-i.md"
excerpt: "Maie Currie was born in Estonia in 1939. In 1944, her mother fled with her to Germany, and in 1949 they emigrated to the United […]"
taxonomy_category:
  - "Life"
taxonomy_post_tag:
  - "Estonian history"
  - "Estonians in the USA"
taxonomy_post_format:
  - ""
publisher: "Estonian World"
language: "en-GB"
author: "Maie Currie"
author_url: "https://estonianworld.com/author/maiecurrie/"
---

# Visit behind the Iron Curtain

![Maie Currie visiting Tallinn in 1968. Private collection.](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Maie-overlooking-Tallinn-1968-e1473961416355.jpg)

Maie Currie visiting Tallinn in 1968. Private collection.

By  [Maie Currie](https://estonianworld.com/author/maiecurrie/)
  ·  September 29, 2016  · [Life](https://estonianworld.com/category/life/)
 · 19 minutes of reading

### Maie Currie was born in Estonia in 1939. In 1944, her mother fled with her to Germany, and in 1949 they emigrated to the United States. This is Currie’s moving account of her return to Soviet-occupied Estonia in 1968 for six days to meet her father, who had been taken from her in 1941 and sent to a labour camp in Siberia before eventually being conscripted into the Soviet Army.

Maie Currie was born in Estonia in 1939. In 1944, her mother fled with her to Germany, where they spent five years in a DP (displaced persons) camp. In 1949, they emigrated to the United States, where Currie still lives today. Her father, however, had been taken from them by the Soviets in 1941 and conscripted into the Soviet Army.

It was not until 1968 that Currie had the chance to return to Estonia and see her father again. At the time, Estonia was under Soviet occupation, behind the Iron Curtain, and foreign visitors were rare. This is Currie’s moving recollection of her brief journey back to her native land.

*********

Did I know, or even care, what was waiting for me in Estonia the first time I went back? Not at all. I was far more interested in meeting my father for the first time as an adult, in 1968, than in any of the unknown factors that might have been lurking in the shadows.

The fact that Estonia lay behind the “Iron Curtain” lent it a certain air of mystery, unfamiliar and frightening to most people in reality. We heard all kinds of stories, but, as with stories generally, you never knew what was true and what had been exaggerated.

### The anticipation of seeing “Eesti”

My excitement mounted as I boarded the ship in Helsinki bound for Tallinn. I would very much have enjoyed a drink from the bar, as it might have calmed my nerves. But, unsure how it might look for a woman to walk up to the bar alone among all the cheerful Finns and order a drink, I refrained.

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Helsinki-Tallinn-passenger-ship-e1473960196105.jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Helsinki-Tallinn-passenger-ship-e1473960196105.jpg)

The passenger ship Tallinn began regular service on the Tallinn–Helsinki route in 1966; the crossing took four hours.

My anticipation peaked as I watched Tallinn’s silhouette draw closer. I could hardly believe that I was about to walk on the soil of the country of my birth – the country I had fled during the war, the country I loved so deeply, and the country now occupied and oppressed by Soviet communism.

In spite of it all, this was my “Eesti” (Estonia), and I had always held it close to my heart. I was on such an emotional roller-coaster that it was hard to contain my feelings. So many questions ran through my mind: besides my father, who else would be waiting for me? Would I recognise them? How would I fit in? Would I be welcomed?

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/1954-%D0%A2%D0%B0%D0%BB%D0%BB%D0%B8%D0%BD%D0%BD-%D0%92-%D1%86%D0%B5%D0%BD%D1%82%D1%80%D0%B5-%D0%BE%D1%80%D1%83%D0%B4%D0%B8%D0%B9%D0%BD%D0%B0%D1%8F-%D0%B1%D0%B0%D1%88%D0%BD%D1%8F-%D0%9A%D0%B8%D0%BA-%D0%B8%D0%BD-%D0%B4%D0%B5-%D0%9A%D1%91.jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/1954-%D0%A2%D0%B0%D0%BB%D0%BB%D0%B8%D0%BD%D0%BD-%D0%92-%D1%86%D0%B5%D0%BD%D1%82%D1%80%D0%B5-%D0%BE%D1%80%D1%83%D0%B4%D0%B8%D0%B9%D0%BD%D0%B0%D1%8F-%D0%B1%D0%B0%D1%88%D0%BD%D1%8F-%D0%9A%D0%B8%D0%BA-%D0%B8%D0%BD-%D0%B4%D0%B5-%D0%9A%D1%91.jpg)

A 1950s view over Tallinn’s Old Town, with Kiek in de Kök and St Nicholas’ Church, its wartime-damaged spire not yet restored, dominating the skyline. Photo by Yevgeny Umnov.

### Detained by Soviet border control

I was the last to disembark, and I wondered whether that was because I had come from America.

I had two very large suitcases and always needed a porter. I wanted to bring everyone something, and that was what caused me to be detained at customs for what felt like endless hours. Every bag and piece of luggage was gone through with a fine-tooth comb. Things were removed, and my thrill at being there quickly turned to anger. No amount of arguing helped my situation. There was no winning with the “powers that were”. They were not even Estonian.

By then, it was getting late, and I had no idea where my family and friends were. Had they gone home? Had they endured those long hours of waiting without knowing what was going on? Exhaustion was overtaking me, and I could no longer think straight.

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/Soviet-border-guards-in-Hiiumaa-island-Estonia-photo-courtesy-of-Arno-Kuuse.jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/Soviet-border-guards-in-Hiiumaa-island-Estonia-photo-courtesy-of-Arno-Kuuse.jpg)

Border guards in coastal Estonia during the Soviet occupation. Photo courtesy of Arno Kuuse.

Some items were confiscated, some were taken to a back room for closer inspection; there were questions, and heads were shaken. The bags were in complete disarray, and the suitcases would not close properly. With no help, I had to struggle on by myself. “Oh, God! Did I do the right thing in coming here?” I quickly dismissed the thought, since I was already there and would still see my father.

### Family reunion

As I struggled with my luggage and rounded the corner, I heard cheering and greetings from afar. “My God, they are all here!” I thought, as my heart could not have pounded any faster or louder in my chest. I still could not reach them, because an eight-foot chain-link fence separated us. As I was led into the enclosed area, I quickly glanced around to see where my father was.

I saw a very tall man, but I did not remember him looking like that in the photographs. In any case, I dropped everything, ran to him crying “isa” (father), and embraced him.

Finally, I was there with my father – or so I thought. Once we let go and looked into each other’s eyes, the tall man said to me, “I am not your father. I am your godfather.” It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck me. “Where is my father?” No one knew, and everyone was almost as shocked as I was.

Waiting to take me to the Intourist Hotel Tallinn – the Soviet-era, state-owned hotel in the Estonian capital – was an official car.

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Hotel-Tallinn-in-1960s.jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Hotel-Tallinn-in-1960s.jpg)

Hotel Tallinn in the 1960s.

Truth be told, by now I was scared to death, and I asked whether “tädi” (aunt) Erika could come with me. I had initially wanted my godfather to come as well, but I was allowed only one person. “Tädi” Erika told them where we would be going after the hotel, while some had to go home and I would see them another time. I simply went along with whatever “my people” decided.

It turned out that we were going to my godfather’s flat, which was not far from the hotel. Through sign language, I was made to understand that the walls had ears and that I should be careful what I said.

As I would have been too upset to speak to my father on the telephone, my godfather called him to find out where he was. My father wept because he had not known I was arriving that day and was distraught that he had not been there to meet me. You see, because the letters were being censored, “they” had decided not to let my father receive my last letter, in which I told him the date and time of my arrival.

My godfather arranged for my father to take the first train from Kohila and come to the hotel the following morning to meet me.

### Counting the crumbs

In the meantime, they seated me in the only comfortable chair in the small flat, at a little round table. “Tädi” Leida placed a pancake on a plate in front of me, along with a small jar of berry preserve.

I immediately asked, “What about the rest of you?” The response was devastating: the preserve had been saved especially for me. They had not had the heart to eat it themselves.

So there I was, sitting alone at the table, eating, while the six or seven of them simply watched me enjoy this “delight”. It broke my heart. I had come from the land of plenty, and here in Estonia they were counting the crumbs.

With the unspoken code of “watch what you say”, I waited for one of them to begin any conversation. My mother had warned me about this even when I was writing letters to Soviet-occupied Estonia, so it was not difficult for me to observe the same rules during my stay. It gave me some idea of what to expect over the next several days – but there was more to come.

### KGB everywhere

As “tädi” Erika walked me back to the hotel, she seemed to have eyes everywhere. She may have had only two, but they were darting in every direction. It made me nervous as well. I was sad when she left, because I was not sure when I would see her again.

I needed to change into my nightgown, but I hesitated because of the known bugs. I imagined they might also be watching me with cameras. With that thought in mind, I took off my clothes in the windowless bathroom without turning on the light. I, too, had become paranoid.

Of course, everyone back home had warned me about the lack of toilet paper in Estonia, but I had forgotten to bring a roll. I had checked earlier and discovered that they did have some, but it looked like crepe paper and felt like sandpaper. Luckily, I had brought tissues with me, though I saved them for special occasions and for going out.

### Praying for the blue, black and white flag to fly atop Pikk Hermann Tower

Estonia lies so far north that, in June, the nights were very short. I marvelled as the sky shifted from dusk to dawn and never truly grew dark. I sat on the bed and looked at the round vase of flowers on the windowsill – the flowers I had been given on my arrival. I especially admired the buttercups, since I had not seen any back home.

Looking out of the two large windows should have offered the second most beautiful sight after Tallinn’s silhouette. There before me stood the wall of “Vanalinn”, or the Old Town.

A light was projected on to Pikk Hermann Tower, aimed at the flag. It saddened me to see a red flag flying there instead of the blue, black and white flag. I prayed that, one day, the flag of a free Estonia would once again fly there, and that it would be a beautiful sight for all to behold.

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Pikk-Hermann-in-1960s..jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Pikk-Hermann-in-1960s..jpg)

Pikk Hermann Tower in Tallinn, Soviet-occupied Estonia, in the 1960s.

### Reunion

On the morning I was due to meet my father, I had to rise early. I hurried downstairs for breakfast.

It was not the quick service one would have had back home, but after a while I did manage to get a cup of coffee and a “pisi” ham sandwich. As there was nothing to go with the coffee, such as cream or sugar, I asked the woman at the next table whether she would pass me hers. Rather rudely, she said, “No, order your own.” Welcome to Estonia behind the “Iron Curtain”.

It took two bites to eat the sandwich and a couple of gulps to finish the coffee, and I was done. Surprisingly, “tädi” Erika was waiting for me outside the door. She did not want to disturb me in the dining room, and she seemed a little afraid. She had come early to say “good morning” and see how I was. She suggested that we go for a walk. That was how people were able to talk freely, because of the spying.

She took me to a small shop not far away called “The Dollar Store”. It was not to buy anything, but to show me that only a foreigner with foreign currency – especially American dollars – was able to buy anything there. Even if a local had dollars, they were not allowed to buy anything. Apparently, this was the only shop where one could get anything worthwhile, even though it was overpriced. We quickly returned to the hotel, and she left at once, knowing that I was expecting my father.

At about eleven o’clock, there was a knock at the door. I knew it would be the tall, handsome man I had seen in so many photographs. Yes – my father, for whom I had longed all those years.

It was the father with whom, when I was a teenager, I had made a pact that each night we would look up at the stars and pretend we could speak to one another. That father was now on the other side of the door. Open Sesame!

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Maie-Currie-reunited-with-her-father-in-1968.jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Maie-Currie-reunited-with-her-father-in-1968.jpg)

Maie Currie reunited with her father in 1968. Private collection.

I wanted that magic to continue on the other side of the door, but once it opened, the magic was gone. Instead, it was the shock of my life to see a man hunched over, frail and thin, yet with a broad smile on his face. We embraced without missing a beat, both our hearts pounding wildly. It broke my heart to see him looking so old at 59, and so unwell. What a moment in time!

There was another surprise waiting around the corner. He had brought his wife, Alide, and his two sons, Urmas, 13, and Tarmo, 11. I had known about them and had received photographs and letters, so I was happy to meet them at last.

At last, I had a family of my own, with these two boys as my brothers. I was elated. As I was so much older, they wanted to call me aunt, but I kept insisting that I was their sister, not their aunt.

Alide was very kind, and my mother had known the family earlier and was pleased that he had married her, especially as she was Estonian and a good Christian.

### Painful memories

We made the usual small talk, and then Alide allowed my father and me to talk while the boys sat very quietly and listened.

I so wanted to know about his life, but I did not know how, or even what, to ask. I waited for him to speak, and it was clear that he was afraid to say too much. I learned that he had been shot in the neck during the war, and that the wound had struck a vital nerve. His left arm and leg were paralysed, his left hand shook, his eyes twitched, and his speech was slurred. No longer did he stand tall and proud, but hunched and broken.

I held back my tears until nightfall, when I was alone. He did not speak about the labour camps or the suffering he had endured in the forest when he was first forced from our home.

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Father-and-I-in-the-friends-garden-1968.jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Father-and-I-in-the-friends-garden-1968.jpg)

Maie Currie (left) and her father in a friend’s garden, 1968. Private collection.

He told me how he had returned home after being released from hospital, where he had spent many months recovering from his injuries.

With joy in his heart and in eager anticipation of seeing the love of his life, Ilona, and the other love of his life, his daughter Maie, he had knocked on the door of what had once been his flat. To his shock and dismay, strangers opened the door – but there was no Ilona, no Maie. No longer joyful, but sad and bewildered, he turned away and, in his pain, walked several more blocks to my grandfather’s house, hoping for better news.

My grandfather, of course, knew what had happened to my mother and me, because it was at his urging that Ilona fled with Maie, leaving everything behind in the hope of returning when it was all over. Ilona never had the chance to return when Estonia was free.

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/With-father-and-friends-1968-1.jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/With-father-and-friends-1968-1.jpg)

Maie Currie with her father and friends, 1968. Private collection.

My father waited for several years in the hope that we might return, but that too never happened. Disabled and without a home, he turned to old family friends for help and eventually married Alide. It was a heart-rending story, and I was deeply hurt by it. What anguish and grief he must have endured.

### Soviet reality

With me there, he seemed to gain new energy and strength. He insisted that we should all go for a walk, and he showed me the building where our former flat had been, as well as my grandfather’s house.

They were all in an extremely poor state, and total strangers were living in them. Everywhere, paint was peeling, fences and gates were in disrepair, nothing green was growing, and everything looked grey and lifeless.

People wore expressions that seemed either sorrowful or angry, and there was a colourless cast about them too. Their clothes were drab, and no one seemed to care very much about anything. It was an image that would haunt me.

He also took us to many of the city’s historic sights – the churches, towers and walls of Tallinn’s Old Town. As we went along, he told me a little of the history behind each one.

My father would lean on my arm much of the time. At other moments, he would hold my hand, look at me and say, “my little Maie”, as though I were still the little girl he had missed so much. He had missed seeing his little girl grow up, and I had desperately missed my father. For him, those moments were priceless – and they were for me too.

My visa was valid for only seven days, and I was not allowed to go beyond the city limits. All but one of those days was spent with my father.

On another day, we went to a department store, and I believe there was only one in the whole of Tallinn. People would go there in the hope of finding something they needed or wanted. The choice was extremely limited and there were very few sizes. Most of the tables were empty, while others held only a handful of items.

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Tallinn-Department-Store-in-the-1960s..jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Tallinn-Department-Store-in-the-1960s..jpg)

The Tallinn Department Store (Tallinna Kaubamaja) in the 1960s.

My father also took me out to dinner. The menu offered only a few choices, the waitress was unfriendly, and the wait was extremely long.

We decided on hot dogs and sauerkraut. I do not think my father had been to a restaurant for a very long time and did not realise how much things had changed. He kept complaining and apologising to me about everything – the lack of food, the dirty tables, the poor service, and the absence of tablecloths.

I think that having been a refugee made it easier for me to adjust to this sad situation, but for my father it was clearly distressing.

### KGB interrogates

I had requested permission to visit my father’s home in Kohila, and one morning I was called down to the office. My hopes were high, but they were quickly dashed.

I was asked to sit down. The room was long and narrow, with two desks, some filing cabinets, bare walls, and an unadorned window. The two men began questioning me by first telling me about the shooting of Robert Kennedy, then waiting for my reaction before continuing their interrogation for several hours.

They asked why I had left Estonia, what was going on back in the United States – specifically in Lakewood, with its large Estonian expatriate community – and about the Estonian House, the church, the school, and much more. I was frightened and wanted to make sure that I would be able to leave Estonia.

I returned to my room before my father and the family arrived. I was somewhat unnerved, but I composed myself.

We visited all the family graves we possibly could. This was part of revisiting the past, giving it meaning, and making that faraway land real after all. Even after so many years in foreign lands, and after finally making a home in America, I still felt a strong attachment to Estonia.

### Leaving occupied Estonia

The day of my departure came sadly and all too soon. To meet my father, along with all the family members and friends, was a dream come true, even if that dream unfolded in a dark place where fear prevailed and nightmares intruded.

Everyone was sad and in tears on that final day, but I had brought them a few days of relief, happiness and smiles. Even so, I was relieved to be going home.

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Maie-with-her-dad-in-Tallinn-in-1968.jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Maie-with-her-dad-in-Tallinn-in-1968.jpg)

Maie Currie with her father in Tallinn, 1968. Private collection.

As we gathered on our side of the gates and fences to say our goodbyes, I was given a bouquet of flowers. I took out a red rose and pinned it to my father’s lapel.

I knew that soon I would have to turn my back, walk through the gate, and possibly never see them again. Oh, it was so painful. There were many secrets that could not, or did not have time to, come out, and they will remain locked behind the “Iron Curtain” for ever.

After some persuasion from my godfather, they allowed my father to walk with me to the ship. We walked in silence as we listened to the Oral Roberts Choir singing “Nearer My God to Thee” from on board. They were in Tallinn for a concert, but had not been allowed to sing religious songs. Now, as they were departing, they sang as many as they could.

### Last walk together

Our last walk together came to an end when we reached the steps of the ship. How do you say goodbye to your father, knowing you will never see him again? We embraced, we kissed, we wept, and then I had to leave my dear, poor father.

I hurried up on deck, from where I could still see him. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my cheeks as I looked down at him. I felt such love, sorrow and pity.

I could not imagine the pain he must have felt in having his only daughter return to his life, after so many years, for just seven days – and then having to watch her leave for ever. I could almost see him losing his strength and growing weaker and weaker.

[https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Father-and-I-before-I-leave-1968.jpg](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Father-and-I-before-I-leave-1968.jpg)

Maie Currie and her father before leaving, 1968. Private collection.

The ship began to pull away from the dock very slowly. My eyes filled with tears, and I kept wiping them so that I could still see my father waving. I took out my scarf and began to wave it, so that he could see where I was.

He stood alone on the dock with my rose pinned to his lapel. He grew smaller and smaller, but I could not take my eyes off him. At last, he stopped waving; he turned, and I watched a broken man limp farther and farther away until I could no longer see him. He did not turn back, he did not wave again, and I knew that he was crying his heart out, just as I was. All I could do was stand there and watch the skyline disappear.

Gone. It was all gone. I was leaving my loved ones with deep regret and sorrow. How I cried for my father – and how he must have cried for me. During the three-and-a-half-hour journey back to Helsinki, I reflected on where I had been and all that I had seen.

The happiness was understandable. It was the depression, the sadness, and the sense of doom among the Estonian people that would remain etched in my heart. It was the importation and forced mingling of foreigners, the lack of food and clothing, the devastation left by the war, the disrepair, the fear in people, and so much more that had transformed a once beautiful country into a land marked by wounds and scars, and a people living in pain and hopelessness.

Unless you lived there or visited during those hard times, you could not begin to understand. You may read or hear their stories, but you cannot fully comprehend them until you have been there and seen and heard what I did.

The mental and physical suffering of an oppressed people cannot truly be put into words; it is something you carry with you once you have seen it and felt it.

## About The Author

![Avatar photo](https://estonianworld.com/wp-content/uploads/local-avatars/44/1367385271-bpfull-100x100.jpg)

[Maie Currie](https://estonianworld.com/author/maiecurrie/)
Maie was born in Estonia in 1939. Her mother escaped with her to Germany in 1944 and in 1949 they left for America. This is Maie's emotional account how she went back to Estonia in 1968 for 6 days to meet her father who had been taken from her in 1941 to a labor camp and eventually was made to go into the Soviet Army.