In situations where the country is more broadly affected by a crisis, of which we have experienced quite a few during the years of independence, most of the discussion and debate revolves around sectors, large companies, or households and individuals. How have Latvia's small businesses and their owners fared over the last few years and this year—people who are, incidentally, significant employers and taxpayers, particularly outside the Riga region?
If a business is not large – is it important to the entrepreneur what you call it—small, medium, or tiny?
There are various classifications; I would call myself a small entrepreneur, and it doesn't bother me. On the other hand, for the niche I operate in, my company could be considered unusually large.
The niche is...
...the cultivation of fruit and berries. I mainly work with Japanese quince; everything else is just for a broader assortment and to ensure balance, as years can be different and, consequently, so can the harvests. In the Japanese quince 'patch', my company 'Dabas auglis' is quite substantial. In total, I manage 45 hectares, with Japanese quince growing on the majority of that land. I should add that the number of hectares and, therefore, the areas are variable—I once had more than 70 hectares and planned to reach 100 hectares, but now I am sort of scaling back, reducing areas, and I expect to reduce them further.
Why?
I am very interested in cooperation and stable partners who are all around me. If we can get raw materials quite easily, why grow everything myself? It is 'cool' to pick and process your own fruit, but there isn't enough time for that. Therefore, we place the emphasis on processing, and to ensure that, there are many needs regarding both labour and working capital. Evaluating the situation, I am giving up certain agricultural segments, keeping only a small part for myself and purchasing the rest of the produce from other farmers.
Usually, people speak more loudly about expansion and greater scale...
I rent land, and as the contract term nears its end, I evaluate whether I want to extend it or not. The area under Japanese quince in Latvia is not shrinking, but increasing. As I mentioned, one must evaluate the situation—if the business and the farm were larger—more employees, more capital, etc.—I would look at it differently. I think I have found the level (state) where we feel good, we manage the work, and we can process much more in the production facility than we currently do. So, in that sense, there is potential, why rush unnecessarily?
Japanese quince and fruit harvesting. The only thing that comes to mind is two hands...
Exactly, the harvesting is not mechanised; we harvest by hand. The maintenance is not simple; the bush is atypical for our climate—small and low, often overgrown by grass. Of course, if the location is good and the conditions are excellent, the bush can grow quite large. For the first two years, we maintain them mechanically; later, we use equipment a little bit, and after that, it only remains to mow the grass between the rows. The bushier we make the plant through maintenance, the more it covers the soil itself; there are places where nothing else grows.
Stories from recent years: berries, for example, strawberries are in abundance, but there are no workers. One person cannot pick many hectares.
Of course, one person doesn't pick all the berries, but unlike strawberries or raspberries, which have a short harvest time, we can pick over a longer period. For example, you can plant different varieties of strawberries to extend the berry period this way; Japanese quince can remain on the bush for a longer time even if ripe, and furthermore, not all berries ripen at the same time. During the harvest period, we go from field to field, and in a month or slightly longer, we manage to finish the picking. Nothing is left in the field. Our fields are not large; we are also an organic farm, so our yield is good but not massive—around 3-5 t/ha.
A practical look at the dispute: conventional and organic farmers.
These are two ways of farming that 'simply do not go together'. I think it is necessary at the state level to understand the direction in which to continue—either regionally or in the country as a whole—and then act accordingly, for example, by positioning ourselves in the market as a representative of that specific direction. I don't get involved in such disputes myself, but I discuss and clarify all issues with my neighbours in a timely manner. If a neighbour has a pasture, there are no questions; I just inform them that I have an organic farm so that if anything is sprayed, a distance is maintained. If a grain grower is next door, the question is different and more complex.
I look at the situation like this: 'What will my children receive as an inheritance?' For my children to have something to leave to their children, organic farming will certainly allow for the preservation or even an increase in the value of the land and the use of the benefits it provides. Moreover, using it not to the maximum, but sufficiently. Conventional farming, for the most part, aims to get the maximum every year. This means that, for example, in 100 years, the land will be exhausted and drained, the maximum obtained will decrease over the years, which, in turn, will require other farming methods, which consequently can create further problems. This is already happening here and there—if we go to France and look at what kind of dust bowls are there...
My position: all farmers should be organic; that would be the ideal situation where all disputes and problems would disappear. Of course, such a transition cannot be either fast or simple. The farmer will continue to work; the question is whether they will be able to earn their bread and whether they will have support. That, of course, is a policy question.
By the way, the market is slowly sorting itself out, because if we weren't an organic farm, I think we would have gone bankrupt long ago. Yes, our strong suit is the organic certificate! We have clients who are interested only and exclusively in organic produce. If we talk about the conventional market—with our small volume, we would have nothing to do there. Manufacturers are not interested in small volumes.
In the last five years, Japanese quince products have been seen more and more often—drinks, candied fruit, not to mention their use in various additives or supplements.
The more rapid development of Japanese quince processing (it is correct to use this name, because outside of Latvia people may not understand if we use the word 'cidonija') has taken place in the last seven years. This process in Latvia, however, began in the 90s, when collective farms transformed into private farms: some could rent land, some could not, canning plants turned into LLCs or joint-stock companies, and the way the product reached the client changed. Now it has been sorted out, because the previous system was completely demolished—for a while, nobody needed quinces, apples, or rhubarb. Now there is a demand for them, because we have had enough of various imported carbonated drinks and have realised that much better things grow in our gardens. Since private production, starting from home-based production and ending with sufficiently serious export-capable facilities, has been restored, it is a serious foundation for creating new products, because the producer thinks and acts, and they have the ability to sell what has been produced and grown. How things will be in the future—we shall see. But nothing suggests that local products, for example, rhubarb or Japanese quince, could drop out of the food basket. I think they will stay there; the question is—could we replace another foreign product or 'push it out of the market', which would be the best thing.
How does a young person get the idea to engage specifically in Japanese quince?
It may sound unusual, but I am satisfied with the environment and the conditions in which I was born and raised—the village of Vaidava in Vaidava parish. Never for a second have I had a desire to go away. Of course, I have travelled, been away for a month or longer, not to look for work, but to buy, sell, look around, learn, or find out things. As soon as I felt—it's time to go home—I returned. I haven't gotten stuck anywhere else—I stayed in Vaidava. Of course, I had to think about how to earn money. I started with discos, lights, sound systems, music at various events; there was work at private parties and open-air dances. During the crisis (2009-2010), it was shown to me how one can obtain and harvest a crop, sell it, and get funds. I haven't been afraid of work—born and raised in the country, having spent some time with my grandmother in a small town—I've loaded hay, looked after cows, etc. I realised that I could grow something myself. I will add, first I 'noticed' that they grow a lot of things here—blackcurrants, Japanese quince, chokeberries, raspberries, apple trees, etc. (The word 'noticed' is the right one, because until then I hadn't paid attention to such things.) Those who showed me this work or niche later 'took off'. I was left alone because I believed it could be done and that it was possible. Maybe... that is what I was looking for. If until then I had a plot of land I was thinking about using—how to throw a party, how to make partygoers feel good—now Japanese quince grows there. We can party, but Japanese quince, chokeberries, and sea buckthorn grow and do their job; we just have to arrive on time to harvest the crop and do everything necessary for the bushes to feel good.
The path to Japanese quince in a nutshell is exactly this—a desire to stay where you were born, to be satisfied with the conditions that exist, and to look for what to do in your village. I think I have succeeded in this, starting from scratch—without capital, without help, without knowledge, I have achieved what has been done so far. I must thank everyone who has believed in me—some in one way, some in another—some believed for a day, some for a month, some for a couple of years, and some still do and believe in the future more than I do. A large part of the time has been like fortune-telling and fumbling in an unknown direction, but: look ahead, dream about what you want... If you look at yesterday—the dreams that were, are already real and surprise no one. The situation now is different—in the local circle, rarely anyone doubts my ideas, for example, to build a new production facility and expand in the near future—that would be great.
What is being made in the production facility now?
Candied fruit, juices, purées, syrups... Not only from quinces; the crops are different—for example, the rhubarb harvest season ended a while ago.
What do you prepare from rhubarb?
Candied fruit and juices; there is also syrup.
Rhubarb has a lot of juice and a little pulp. Is its processing not overly labour-intensive?
Rhubarb is profitable; processing is mechanised, though the stalks must be peeled by hand. With juicy stalks, it is much simpler if we compare it to quince, which is a more expensive product. Quince is popular; it is bought; rhubarb can be called a filler for the assortment; it is not a big success story. We are not aimed at retail; it is not large for us and is slow. I allow that, over time, people will be convinced and believe that candied fruit can be bought on the internet. Of course, it is better if they are brought to the house, to school, or elsewhere, but we don't do that; there is no time. We try to sell online ourselves, and we have a small shop in Valmiera, in the shopping centre 'Valleta'; the turnover there is not large. We prepare quince products for manufacturers who use them further. This allows us both to live and to develop.
Who and where grows the rhubarb?
There are many small farms from which we purchase. We ourselves have a few dozen or hundreds of plants. Last year we processed 15-17 tonnes of rhubarb.
Have C19 and Ukraine noticeably affected the company's work?
We felt the virus time differently—the already small retail trade stopped completely. Before C19 restrictions, we travelled a lot to markets; we had local traders; during the pandemic, as is known, there were no markets. We hoped for internet trade, which we had created and developed a year earlier. The plans were not realised. However, a lot of produce was purchased in Lithuania... Sales in Latvia fell, in Lithuania they increased, which overall seemed strange, because during C19 everyone needed vitamins. It was a time of losses and strategy changes, because as a result of the C19 period, we no longer produce 'in reserve'—we receive an order, we get to work. Reserves are very small. We have pulled through.
The Ukraine crisis... We will be able to talk about that later. Prices are rising for everything; some things can no longer be purchased, and nobody can explain whether it will be available or not, and when it will be purchasable. In economic terms, nothing has changed significantly. We worry that we will earn money this year, but inflation will 'eat' what is earned. But—the goal has been reached—bread is on the table not only for me but for several more families; we can still live where we lived before; at lunchtime, we can go swimming in Lake Vaidava... There are 9 people working permanently at the company. Our goal is to understand which is the stable place so that we can work and produce as much as necessary.
The strong triangle of Vidzeme: Cēsis, Valmiera, Smiltene.
I would rather speak about Vidzeme as a whole, not a triangle or quadrangle. I feel like a Vidzemian; I have close ties with the Livs (my grandfather was a Liv), I fit in here very well. I rejoice at many things, for example, going to Kurzeme, the language of the Curonians gladdens me, which sounds exotic to my ears. I like being in Latgale with the hospitable people there. We, Vidzemians, I think, use the opportunities given to us. We don't have wide fields—there are hills, rivers, bogs, small fields, forests—agriculture here has developed on a smaller scale, for example, by planting apple orchards or Japanese quince fields, which accordingly require people 'on the spot'; home farms have still been preserved in sufficient numbers. Activity here is also thanks to the people whose numbers or density have been preserved.
Talking to people, I hear that it is difficult to find a mason in Kurzeme—there are physically no people. I realise myself as a Latvian, a Vidzemian, a Vaidavian, and I would be happy if Vaidava became an economically larger centre. There is no emptiness, but the future perspective is not overly rosy if we continue the current policy and tactics. In my opinion, it would be necessary to invest more in rural territories and villages. Moreover—to invest in simple and necessary things—water pipes, sewage, asphalting, where necessary. So that an environment is created where entrepreneurs would 'get stuck'. Because Cēsis, Valmiera, and Smiltene are cities to which people willingly go to work. Often there is work, but no place to live; then there is the possibility to settle in the nearest villages or parishes. In my opinion, business development zones should be needed not only in cities but also in villages. Why couldn't a company operate outside the city? I would gladly see such a situation in the future. What can I do myself? Do well what I do and show that we can also work and are working.
Speaking of people, the search for empty houses and their new inhabitants in Latvia (especially in the Vidzeme side) has been going on for a good while.
The initiatives are wonderful; I would gladly join them or support them. I am glad that such things are happening! Soviet times destroyed a great many farms. In the countryside, we see many lonely oaks or an occasional still-beautiful avenue, or other evidence of our ancestors' homes. Since the 90s, we have been continuing this process, because as agriculture develops, many homesteads disappear. Some are no longer visible, some are not usable. Investment is needed here—it must be heated, the roof must be changed... I am genuinely glad for everyone who returns to the countryside—if rural areas develop, things will also go well in the centre. Good houses do not stand empty. It's a pity about those houses where new owners are not allowed in, and it happens that some farmer is interested in being able to sow as much as possible and for that house not to be in this or that territory. That is not a good idea.
Latvia is my family; everyone who lives in my village is my family. In childhood, we learn from everyone around us. Japanese quince is a time-filler that brings something good, and if you can help others in this way, that is great.
Japanese quince is called the northern lemon.
My goal in the beginning was not to grow anything—first, I realised—look, it grows, it can be picked and sold; you just need to find the owner! That is what I did—found the owner, paid, found pickers, transport, buyers, and so for a couple of years. Then I started thinking about a cooperative and cooperation so that we could provide clients with produce and it would be profitable for the farmer—some decided to act themselves, some decided to participate. It's not as simple as it sounds. It is simple to talk, not to do. Sometimes it takes even years. Looking at where what can be sold, what interests whom, Japanese quince over a longer period, regardless of the season, was the only crop that was missing on the market. Since the idea of a cooperative didn't work out, I realised that the only option is to grow them myself; I grew pumpkins, then Japanese quince, and, lo and behold, step by step, for the last four years, I have had the harvest myself! 12 years have passed since I started... I believed it was a good opportunity. If we can process, we are already a small monopoly—we have fields, an association, a production facility, a mutual cooperation network... That is how we work and live.
Japanese quince doesn't have bad years—the harvest volume changes, but—greater or smaller—it is always there. An important nuance—Japanese quinces themselves can practically not be sold across borders—you can sell the product. In recent years, however, I see—slowly, slowly, movement is happening; I am waiting and preparing myself and the production facility until some big manufacturer wants to change something.
Changing the topic slightly—what we in Latvia definitely need to do and accomplish—we must weed out a lot of negativity from language, thinking, and farming. For example: 'You can't help me, can you?'
Why can't I? I can!
(Smile) 'Could you help me?' sounds better, doesn't it? I have noticed such a style of speech since childhood. Talking to foreign Latvians who have still preserved pre-war Latvian, it is different. Somehow, quite a lot of negativity has entered and remained in people.
How do I feel this situation? We talk very, very little, and in these conversations, there is often negatively encoded information that says—we can't, we don't want to, we don't wish to, and may you also not succeed. Moreover, it is said even with good intentions and without wishing any harm. Possibly, the result as it is, is also due to such reasons. We in Latvia cannot boast of a strong, structured economy; it doesn't rest on strong farms, but there are a few large companies which, if you remove them, a huge chaos begins.
Negativity and being precise are not one and the same. The lack of plain language, however, is keenly felt, and then—oh, why did you say it like that and insult the person so much.
I am young, I am 33 years old, I see the historical sediment in our way of thinking and language. We will feel the consequences of Soviet times for a long time; I accepted that from childhood. In a direct way, this country has not existed for a long time, but it has remained in many heads and in the language. Many different conflicts have passed over Latvia; I see that there is still a great mutual distrust and distance—say, I live on this side, you—on the other. Don't come closer—no need! Historical events, even sufficiently old ones that have remained in language and consciousness—whether you like it or not—influence or even hinder us. Undeniably, there is also the propaganda of the neighbouring country Russia, which more than one fellow citizen listens to and which tries to sink us, to lower the desire to act. I don't watch TV, I don't follow the news—I am interested in the idea and the execution—yes—sometimes it takes 10 years, sometimes—a few days. I also tend to invite others to put aside the heap of information—various things happen in the world, but—what difference does it make to you? Are events taking place in your yard? No? By turning on the TV, you bring that into your home and into your consciousness—do you need it? To a certain extent, information overload is also a hindering factor, because I have done many things thanks to the fact that I didn't know anything about certain conditions, didn't understand anything, but acted. As knowledge accumulates, you find out—this or that cannot be done the way you had thought, but you have already managed to accomplish something, create something, and learn.
Soviet times. Isn't there too much speculation in Latvia with the word 'Soviet'? Obviously, the problem is in the person, their ignorance or imagination, or elsewhere, but it is written off to Soviet times...
Of course, I cannot remember anything from the Soviet times because in 1988 there were others—the Awakening times. I clearly and plainly know the feelings; I know the information that is around me, which sounds on March 16, March 25, May 9, etc. People close to me and whom I know, who returned after surviving Siberia, are much nicer than those who stayed here and lived in their homes. A portion of those who stayed are more envious and less helpful. About Soviet times—that is what I spoke about before; look—the neighbour did this or that, but (!!!)—did I myself do it, did I go, did I accomplish it?
Can that be felt even now?
If my memory doesn't fail me, in ancient writings about our area, crusaders expressed that a hardworking, but 'devilishly envious' people live here. I associate envy and harshness with the nature that has formed us. Our ancestors' ancestors who lived here, as the glacier retreated, experienced an extremely harsh selection to survive and, consequently, give life to us as well. Now we live in great comfort, but resources or possessions do not make one happier. I think, in some way, that also comes along now, when harsh conditions no longer exist, but the harshness in people has remained. Soviet times were also harsh (though not for everyone).
My childhood was interesting and colourful. I know how to observe and listen, to perceive, feel emotions and context. I haven't been an outstanding student at school, but I have always felt the atmosphere. Are we doing that now? Often, a person, only finding themselves in a hospital, pays attention to what is happening: 'Wait, that needed to be done sooner!' That is daily work and a duty to oneself. A farmer pays a lot of attention to nature, whether there is enough moisture, whether there are nutrients, etc. If we pay attention to many things, our attention becomes fragmented; information has been accumulated, but there is a lot of it. If in such a situation you have to decide on something, to not be overly important, you start to doubt and waver. If this happens for five or ten years, don't be surprised that a classmate or brother, or sister lives a different life, even though you had one starting point. Do it! ...then things happen! An empty barrel makes the loudest sound!
Mostly people don't have an opinion, but there is something garbled or picked up from TV, radio, or some social network. That which is called an opinion (but which is not) has not formed in practice or at work, but, overheard somewhere, becomes retold. Something similar happens with the war in Ukraine—that is how Russian propaganda works, from which one can only learn. In young people, peers, I see a different way of thinking; it is easier to talk to them about cooperation and action; if you can trust a person, the result will definitely be better. If we interpret history and evaluate today and tomorrow through the past... Yes, it can be useful, but as long as one is treading an already beaten path—as a young person, I want to tread this path myself. From the potential of Latvia's natural and human resources, we use very, very little; I, of course, speak about economic potential. When we are economically strong and stable, we can talk about the social, otherwise, we will experience a catastrophe. There are more and more socially unprovided-for people—that is mathematics... In the future, one should look while respecting the past, but it cannot be interpreted differently each time. The result is destruction, for example, if we talk about climate issues and the ecological crisis—forgive me—what is happening in Ukraine is an insanity in the broadest sense (also ecologically). It is bad if today's actions are justified by past events. What kind of future will be created in such a way? In the future, people must cooperate. I am a cooperation person—I help neighbours where possible. Of course, not everyone wants to be helped, not everyone comes to help, and in this process, you encounter everything possible—starting with language and ending with indifference. But—slowly and gradually, it can be changed, and one must start with oneself.
In Soviet times, the human attitude towards each other was different. Society was different—now we are individualists and egoists—mine, mine, mine... Growth is in understanding—if my neighbours are doing well, I will do well too; if I am the only one doing well, others will be envious or 'put me on a train'. In my opinion, history should be put aside, respected, remembered, but do everything so that it doesn't repeat itself, and today's mistakes or failures cannot be justified by history. Soon in Latvia, there will live people who will not have experienced either Soviet times or WWII, but will still refer to these events, making excuses with them. The task of a small country is to take care of itself and its neighbours—not to find investors and look after them, as is happening now, not to lobby banks, but to support the local tailor, farmer, actor... Self-confidence will change, and the success will be different, heartening.
zemeunvalsts.lv note: The interview touches on a series of important questions that, unfortunately, are stuck in solution processes. The dispute or conversation—organic or conventional farmer—can continue for a long time, but—the inhabitant of Latvia (and not only) needs food that they can buy, the organic farmer needs sufficiently well-off (at least in the current situation) people who purchase what they produce. This summer and autumn, and, certainly, winter as well, the main question is just there—how much does it (what) cost.