In June 1995, accompanied by my uncle, I caught a flight to Latvia,my first ever visit. Being born of Latvian parentage, I was already familiar with much of it's history and culture and had looked forward to making the journey that my parents had only dreamed of in their enforced exile. We travelled from Riga to Liepaja, and then on to Dunika, my mother's (and uncle's) birthplace for what proved to be a very bitter-sweet experience.

When we arrived it was hard for my uncle to reconcile the place as it is now with the idyll where he had spent such a happy childhood. I don't know what we expected to find but we weren't prepared for the desolation that confronted us.Fifty years of Russian occupation and oppression had certainly taken it's toll.Of the farmhouse, nothing remained apart from a couple of broken roof tiles. Gone were the orchards of apple and cherry trees. The river that was once covered in lillies and teeming with fish looked stagnant and lifeless. Even the church where my grandparents had worshipped had been reduced to rubble.It was as if the past had been totally obliterated.With a very heavy heart and a sense of loss we returned to Riga for the remainder of our stay.

Since that visit, and the explosion of the internet, I have been endeavouring to find some links to my family's past, but to no avail. If there truly is nothing left then so be it. I have decided to create this web site in the forlorn hope that someone out there might recognise a name or face. If nothing else it will announce to the world that my forebears are gone but not forgotten.