Daina Tabūna was born in 1985 and is a Latvian writer. She graduated from the Latvian Academy of Culture, specialising in Theatre, Film and TV Drama. Since 2000 she has been publishing prose and articles in cultural media. Her short story collection Pirmā reize (The First Time), a contemporary coming-of-age book, was shortlisted for the Annual Latvian Literary Award 2014 as the best debut of the year. Tabūna’s stories have been published in the UK by The Emma Press, bearing the title The Secret Box. Tabūna’s works have also been translated into Lithuanian, Slovenian, German, and Chinese.
In 2022, Daina Tabūnas' story for children Lasis Stasis und Atlasijas okeāns (Salmon Sammy and the Ocean) was published. It was nominated for the Jānis Baltvilks award in children and youth literature and included in the long list of the Latvian Literature Award in the category "Best work for children".
In 2023, her first novel Raganas (Witches) was published.
Daina Tabūna's debut novel “Witches” focuses on a young woman’s search for identity after a painful breakup. Despite her skepticism, Alma turns to esotericism, which includes taking courses with a mysterious priestess. In her dreams, she starts seeing women from different centuries who are social misfits and who seek solutions to crises (unwanted pregnancy, witch trials, political oppression, depression) in magical rituals. Alma begins researching the history of witchcraft and eventually translates her spiritual experiences and dreams into stories, which become a kind of healing therapy. Gradually, Alma becomes aware of herself, discovers her voice and power. Themes such as self-acceptance, spirituality, religion, the feminine experience, the relationship with oneself and the world (family, friends, lovers) appear in the novel.
Excerpt
Kad visas izteikušās, Priesterienes palīdze visām salej krūzēs tēju, kas gatavota no īpaši izraudzītiem augiem. Kamēr dalībnieces to malko, Priesteriene sāk stāstīt par dievietēm. Viņa runā par šumeru Inannu, kas tika nogalināta, pakārta pie āķa un trīs dienas vēlāk augšāmcēlās – vairāk nekā tūkstoš gadu pirms Jēzus. Viņa stāsta par indiešu Kali – šausminošu, asinskāru, iznīcinošu, bet vienmēr taisnīguma pusē esošu. Priesteriene piemin Gaju un Freiju, Māru un Persefoni. Viņa skaidro, kā ikviena no dievietēm ir kāda no Mātes Dabas šķautnēm un līdz ar to – daļiņa no katras sievietes, no katras šai telpā esošās.
Tad visas tiek aicinātas iekārtoties pēc iespējas ērtāk, vislabāk – atgulties uz paklāja starp spilveniem un aizvērt acis. Tiek ieslēgta mūzika, un Priesteriene sāk noturēt meditāciju. Klausītājas tiek izvadātas pa pļavām un birzīm, gar strautiem un kokiem, līdz tiek aicinātas iztēloties kāpnes, pa kurām lēnām jākāpj augšā. Kad sasniegts beidzamais pakāpiens, katrai no iesaistītajām ceļojums būs jāturpina vienatnē.
Līdzīga veida meditācija bija arī iepriekšējā sesijā. Toreiz, kad Priesterienes balss bija apklususi, Almu pārņēma neliels apjukums. Vai viņai tagad kaut kas būtu jāredz, prātā jāuzrodas kaut kādiem tēliem? Nekas tāds nenotika. Viņa domās sāka piekasīties skanošajai mūzikai – kā tā neatbilst viņas iekšējām izjūtām un drīzāk traucē, nekā palīdz; piemiegtām acīm centās palūrēt, kā šai mirklī izskatās citas, it kā tas varētu ko līdzēt. Nokratīja domas par iepirkumu sarakstu, ko neviļus jau bija sākusi sacerēt. Uz meditācijas beigām Almai tomēr izdevās uztaustīt stīgu, kas likās daudzmaz atbilstoša – tā bija tāda kā saraustīta montāža, atmiņas par dažādām vietām. Tur bija mežs netālu no vecmammas lauku mājas; tur bija nomaļā pludmale, uz kuru viņa reiz vidusskolas laikā spontāni aizstopēja ar draudzenēm; tur bija Bulgārijas kalnu ceļš, ko Alma bija mērojusi pārgājienā, kad piedalījās jauniešu apmaiņas programmā. (No tādām atmiņām, kas saistījās ar Robertu, viņa tīšām izvairījās, par tām likās labāk nedomāt.) Viņa atcerējās saules, vēja, ūdens šļakstu pieskārienus savai ādai; kā viņa šajās vietās bija jutusies brīva un priecīga, kaut vai uz mirkli.
Taču, kad dažas pārējās padalījās ar savu meditācijas pieredzi, Alma saprata, ka acīmredzot ir darījusi to nepareizi.
Viņa bija pārsteigta – un, jāatzīst, sajuta arī zināmu skaudību – par to, ar kādu nopietnību citas dalījās ar izvērstiem, fantasmagoriskiem sižetiem; viens pat ietvēra vietējo slavenību piedalīšanos. Ko šie tēli varētu nozīmēt, runātājas lūdza izteikt versijas. Tu to visu vienkārši izdomāji, Almai gribējās atcirst. Taču balsī viņa izteica tikai pāris atturīgas simbolu interpretācijas.
Šoreiz viņa ir izlēmusi, ka darīs tāpat kā citas – dos vaļu fantāzijai, sacerēs kaut kādu brīnumpasaku ar sevi galvenajā lomā. Ja jau pārējās tā var, tad var arī viņa. Kad Priesteriene aicina doties augšup pa kāpnēm, Alma prātā pārtin duci dažādu variantu – ļodzīgas virvju trepes; nodeldētus šķērskokus uz stāvas meža takas; platus marmora pakāpienus. Visbeidzot, kad Priesteriene likusi spert jau pēdējo, desmito soli, Alma ierauga tās pašas akmens kāpnes ar izvītajām margām, pa kurām šodien uzkāpusi šurp. Tad Priesteriene apklust. Tālāk ir jāiet pašām.
Labi, Alma nolemj, ja reiz kāpnes ir no šejienes, tad tepat vien jāturpina. Viņa izdomā nevis iet, bet gan levitēt mazliet virs grīdas, kā to nesen darījusi sapnī; iztēlojas, kā pārlaižas pāri slieksnim, cauri priekšnamam, garām jaku un zābaku rindai, tad ieslīd šai pašā telpā. Domās Alma ierauga visas pārējās sievietes, aizvērtām acīm, nogūlušās uz grīdas, dažas atstutējušās pret sienu. Vai te ir arī Priesteriene? Nē, Alma nolemj, te galvenā būs viņa pati. Viņa nolaižas pavisam tuvu dažām no līdzgaitniecēm – tā, ka var sajust viņu elpu, izpētīt poras uz viņu deguniem. Vai šeit atrodas arī pati Alma? Jā, turpat savā vietā, starp sagurušo vēža vīra kundzi un jauniņo, jūsmīgo tuneļu meiteni. Alma nolaižas pie sava ķermeņa – aplūko pavisam sīkās rieviņas uz pieres un ap muti, atpazīst vēnas uz rokām, kas, saliktas virs vēdera, viegli cilājas ieelpā un izelpā. Noturēt sižetu nav viegli – nemitīgi nākas sasprindzināties, lai iztēles ainas neiestrēgtu un neizplēnētu; taču pamazām viņa sāk to mazliet izbaudīt. Viņa izdomā savienoties ar savu ķermeni, ienirst tajā un atkal paceļas augstāk virs grīdas. Meditācijas mūzika uzņem apgriezienus, un Alma sajūtas ēverģēlīgi. Visām būtu jālido, viņai ienāk prātā. Vienā no pēdējām naktīm viņai sapnī bija sanācis ar skatienu kustināt priekšmetus – sākumā mazus, kā karoti vai grāmatu, bet beigās izdevās noturēt gaisā pat zvārojošos veco laiku televizoru. Sapņos lidināt baru cilvēku viņa droši vien nejaudās vēl ilgi, bet šeit – kādēļ ne! Alma iedomājas, kā, viņai paceļot augšup rokas, no grīdas atraujas visas telpā esošās sievietes. Tūlīt pat pēc Almas pavēles atdarās vaļā logi, lai katra varētu lidot, kur labpatīk. Dažas atver acis un uzreiz izlaižas ārā, citas paliek tāpat guļus stāvoklī, tikai tagad maigi līgojoties sprīdi virs zemes. Alma uzmet viņām pēdējo skatu un izvirpuļo ārā arī pati.
Planējot pāri savai krēslojošai pilsētai, viņa ātri saprot, ka nejūt salu. Drēbes kļuvušas liekas, un viņa atbrīvojas no tām. Virs Brīvības ielas Alma nolaižas zemāk un panerro nejaušos kājāmgājējus. Kāds iedzēris tēvainis cenšas aizķert Almas baso stilbu, bet viņai izdodas izvairīties. Bariņš pusaugu meiteņu tver pēc telefoniem un sāk filmēt kailo sievieti, kas plivinās tām virs galvas; no pareizticīgo baznīcas iznākusi tantiņa met krustus un purpina lūgšanas – Alma parāda viņām visām mēli. Bet šādi izklaidēties viņai ātri apnīk, un Alma, atkal izlavierējusi starp trolejbusu vadiem, uzņem augstumu.
Viņu pārņem dzinulis doties prom no pilsētas. Viņa pārlaižas pāri jumtam mājai, kur dzīvo Roberts; tad arī viņas pašas ēka uzzibsnī un izgaist aiz muguras. Jau drīz zem viņas plešas satumsis mežs un pie apvāršņa sāk iezīmēties jūra. Savos sapņos Alma jau ir lidojusi virs siliem un aizskārusi koku galotnes, laidelējusies pāri ūdeņiem. Bet tagad viņa atskārst, ka nekad nav uzdrošinājusies izmēģināt, cik tieši augstu debesīs var pacelties; kaut kas tur vienmēr biedējis, spiedis uz leju. Alma sasprindzina prātu un sāk brāzties augšup.
Viņa izlaužas cauri mākoņiem, ierauga vēl pēdējos saules starus, kas atblāzmo pie horizonta; tad vēl viens biezs, šķietami necaurbrienams mākoņu slānis. Viņa traucas ātrāk un ātrāk, līdz saprot, ka nonākusi izplatījumā. Zeme palikusi aiz muguras. Almas ķermenis kaut kur pa ceļam ir sairis un atdalījies, bet apziņa turpina nesties starp planētu plejādēm, asteroīdiem un miglājiem. Šeit nav, no kā baidīties. Viņa turpina orbitēt starp zvaigznēm, it kā tā būtu vienīgā lieta, ko viņai jebkad bijis paredzēts darīt.
Excerpt - Translation
Translated into English by Kaija Straumanis
Once everyone has spoken, the Priestess’s assistant helps pour everyone a tea prepared from special herbs. While the women sip the tea, the Priestess begins to tell them about goddesses. She talks about the Sumerian goddess Inanna, who was killed, hung up on a hook, and who returned from the underworld three days later—over a thousand years before Jesus. She talks about Kali—the terrifying, bloodthirsty, destructive Indian goddess who was nonetheless always on the side of justice. She talks about Gaia and Freya, Māra and Persephone. She explains that each of the goddesses is an offshoot of Mother Earth and as such is a part of every woman here in this room.
Then they’re told to make themselves comfortable and lie down among the pillows on the rug, eyes closed. Music starts to play and the Priestess guides them through meditation. The women are led through fields and groves, along streams and trees, until they are asked to imagine reaching a staircase that they slowly walk up. When they reach the final step, each of them are to continue their path on their own.
They had a similar guided meditation in the previous session. When the Priestess’s voice had fallen silent, Alma had felt a bit confused. Was she supposed to be seeing something, was her mind supposed to show her images? Nothing happened. So instead she began to think about the music, how it didn’t match how she was feeling and was more annoying than helpful; keeping her eyelids low, she tried to peek through her lashes to see what the others looked like right then—as if that would help. She wiped her mind of the shopping list she’d unwittingly started to make. Toward the end of the meditation, however, she was able to grasp onto a thread that seemed appropriate: it resembled a jumbled montage of memories from various places. The woods near her grandma’s countryside home; the hidden beach she and her friends had once hitchhiked to in high school; the Bulgarian mountain trail she’d hiked while on a youth exchange program. (She purposely avoided memories connected to Roberts—it was better not to go there.) She remembered the sun, wind, and water splashing onto her skin; she remembered how free and happy she’d felt in those places, if even for a moment.
But when some of the women shared their meditation experiences, Alma could see that she’d apparently done it all wrong.
She was surprised, and, admittedly, a bit jealous, over how earnestly these women described the expansive, phantasmagoric things they’d seen—one even included a local celebrity. What did it all mean, the women asked for explanations. You made it all up, Alma wanted to snap. Instead, she offered a few hesitant interpretations.
This time she’s decided to do what the other women do—give in to fantasy, make up some kind of fairytale with herself in the leading role. If the other women can do it, so can she. When the Priestess leads them up the staircase, Alma runs through a dozen options in her mind: a rickety rope ladder; worn-down lengths of lumber on a steep forest path; wide marble steps. When the Priestess tells them they’ve reached the tenth and final step, Alma sees the same stone steps with the winding banister that she’d climbed today to get here. Then the Priestess falls silent. Now they go on alone.
Okay, Alma thinks, if those are the steps she gets, then those are the steps she’ll take. She decides to levitate instead of walk, a bit above the floor, like she’s done in a recent dream. She imagines herself floating over the threshold, through the foyer, past the row of coats and boots, and into this very room. In her mind, she sees the other women, eyes closed, lying on the floor or sitting against the wall. Is the Priestess here too? No, Alma decides, she’ll be leader here. She lowers herself very close to a few of the other women, close enough to feel their breathing, see the pores on their noses. Is Alma here? She is, right where she was, between the tired old woman with the cancer-husband and the young, enthusiastic woman with the tunnel piercings. Alma lowers herself over her own body—looks at the tiny lines on her forehead and around her mouth, sees the familiar veins on the backs of her hands, which, resting on her stomach, move slowly up and down as she breathes. It’s not easy maintaining the scene—she has to stay focused to keep the images from faltering or dissipating; but little by little she finds herself enjoying it. She decides to reconnect with her body, dive down into it and then rise up again, higher this time. The meditative music takes a turn and Alma feels impish. Everyone should be floating, she thinks. In one of her recent dreams she’d been able to move objects telepathically. Small stuff at first, like a spoon or a book, but in the end she was even able to wobbly levitate an old-school television. She probably won’t be able to levitate an entire group of people in her dreams any time soon, but here—why not! Alma imagines all the women in the room rising up off the floor as she lifts her arms. Then the windows open at her command, allowing each woman to fly off to wherever she pleases. A few of them open their eyes and fly out immediately, others remain stretched out with their eyes closed, hovering gently above the floor. Alma takes one more look at them and then also whirls out through the window.
As she floats above her twilit city, she’s quick to realize she doesn’t feel cold. Her clothes are superfluous and she sheds them. Above Brīvības Street Alma floats down to tease unsuspecting passersby. A drunk older man tries to grab her bare leg, but she manages to slip past him. A group of teenaged girls whips out their phones and start to film the naked woman flying overhead; an old woman coming out of the orthodox church crosses herself and starts muttering prayers—Alma sticks her tongue out at all of them. But she gets bored of this quickly, and, making her way past the trolley wires, she flies higher.
She’s overcome with the desire to leave the city. She flies over the roof of the building where Roberts lives; then her own building flashes in and out of view. Soon she’s passing over a darkened forest and up ahead she can make out the sea on the horizon. In her dreams she’s flown over pine forests and has touched the treetops, has skimmed over bodies of water. But it occurs to her now that she’s never gotten the courage to see just how high up she can go; something has always scared her, held her down. Alma steels her mind and shoots upward.
She breaks through the clouds, spots the last rays of sunlight on the horizon; then through one more thick, seemingly impenetrable layer of clouds. She flies faster and faster until she realizes she’s reached outer space. She’s left Earth behind. Somewhere along the way her body has fallen apart and scattered, but her consciousness continues onward among the planets and galaxies, asteroids and nebulas. There’s nothing to fear up here. She keeps orbiting among the stars, as if it were the only thing she was ever meant to do.