"But – who has a life by the sea..." (fragment)

In Ģipka, Roja parish, in a quiet forest edge, there is a house with a wonderfully charming name - Putnumuiža. The neatly kept surroundings are managed by Mr. Ēriks Sēnes and his wife Marija - his wife was seen in Kolka, but she herself comes from Valdemārpils. Can you call yourself a real gipsy?
- Yes, this is my father's house, built in 1928. Look, this oak tree in the yard was planted by my father and now serves as a lightning rod for me in a way, because it grows at the intersection of the rivers. My father was a fisherman all his life. I also often went to the sea to look after the nets - it was interesting.
Do you remember anything from both occupations?
- How could I not? Even though I was still a boy, I remember the Russian invasion in 1940. In 1941, my aunt, her husband, and my cousin, the Sturm family, were sent to Siberia. My cousin died in Siberia. The Russians were not destined to rage for long. Soon the Germans arrived. During the German occupation, two German officers lived in our house. Their attitude was always correct and solid. I remember how the German soldiers often treated me with chocolate. When the Russians started to move towards Courland again, all the coastal residents were evacuated up to a distance of 20 km. We ended up in Kaļķi. When the war ended, many men went into the forest. We returned to our father's house in 1945. The Russians behaved like robbers. I remember that during a manure raid, the Russian soldiers tore my father's pocket watch from his vest and did not even touch the aluminum pots in our kitchen. In 1949, the owners of Vecvilki were deported. In 1954, I was drafted into the army, and I returned in 1958 - by then the so-called border zone had already been established. The Ģipka fish processing workshop also continued to operate. The Ģipka workshop operated during the period of independence, and there was also a fishmonger's workshop in Pūrciems - Šultmaņu Pauls worked as a foreman. In the sixties, I worked as an electrician at "Banga", also in the Ģipka workshop washing fish. From 1962 to 1980, I worked as a technician at the Ģipka navigation lighthouse.
Do you remember any curious incident?
- Of course. I had to write an autobiography once. Then they sent me to Riga - to the so-called zbors. Instead of the zbor, they took me to the check. There they asked if I knew a certain Elizabeth Rodriguez. I said, well, I did - she was my father's sister (she had emigrated to South America). They asked again - why didn't you report it? I replied that at the time when my father's sister was still here, I was still good, if only as planned. That was enough for them...
Dunlop rubber boots were sent from Sweden. Annoyed by the border guards, I threw them towards the sea over the fenced-off beach. The Russian looks at them – foreign boots, so someone has crawled out of the sea. Well, there's already a big fuss...
I also remember the green balls at the Ģipka club. The men were warmed up, their spirits were high – they had to go and have fun with the soldiers. And they went with them.
Were there any absurdities or tragic events?
- How could we do without them. After the war, all the bunkers and trenches were full of cartridges and explosives. What more could the boys need? We made a fire, loaded all the belongings inside and ourselves - in one piece. The noise was great. Unfortunately, not everything ended happily. I remember that Gustavsons Leonard's arm was blown off by a shell. Back in Russian times, up to 50 tons of fish were ground into fishmeal a day. We are feeling the consequences now.