Lögberg-Heimskringla


Lögberg-Heimskringla - 25.01.1973, Qupperneq 2

Lögberg-Heimskringla - 25.01.1973, Qupperneq 2
2 LÖGBERG-HEIMSKRINGLA, EIMMTUDAGINN 25. JANÚAR 1973 Hög;berg - J^eimsímngla ÍLúis tt ttt tmjltsh In The Land Of My Fathers By MARGARET ANN BJORNSON For days the sea had rocked itself gloomily, oppressed by the weight of a heavily leaded sky. Sometimes fine steel rib- bons of rain were threaded between them, like a vast de- sign in filigree. But usually there was no intricacy of pat- tem in the grey mist — no pattem, only the monotone of a shroud. Such a prelude is well in keeping with the aura of mys- ticism and romance which has for so many centuries sur- rounded the north; the avid interest in, and speculation about a lost continent — the fabled Atantis — of which Ioeland is said to be one rem- nant, the most remote, prob- ably, from the Pillars of Her- cules; the morbid fascination of life and culture on a vol- canic island, rudely indented by a jealous sea. We remem- ber Snorri: “The earth’s round face, w h e r e o n mankind dwells, is much cleft because great gulfs run up into the land from the ocean. . .” * * * “We have landed in Thule,” wrote Lord Dufferin from Reykjavik in 1856. And against the darkness of a drip- ping night, the great dim mass rising out of the sea into the mist is as fantastically un- all grey-blanketed. A stinging wind whips in and out of the tangled masts, silently. And then suddenly.— the sky with its low matted clouds swoops down as if to crush the moun- tains between itself and the sea. The jagged peaks across the bay, undisturbed, rise in majesty through the mist, through the wind, through the rain, oblivous to the petu- lant sea beneath them. Occasionally an anaemic sun appears for a few mo- ments, and the mountains are briefly gold, or hazily corn- colored, or brilliantly purple. But the sea remains stubborn- ly grey, and reluctantly the sky confirms, the mountains fade, — greyness into dusk, until the white wings of a gull, the small cheery light from a boat are the only transgressors a g a i n s t the kindly darkness. * * * In a small village on the coast there is no ughness, but a beauty as overwhelming as the drabness of Reykjavik; music more romantic than any Wagnerian overture — the music of the sea crashing against the broken, rugged shore. Deeply wrinkled black rocks with faces of old men — unresisting, impassive, stoi- The essay on Ihis page is iaken from ihe 1936 issue of Tímarii, a yearly magazine published in Winnipeg by ihe Icelandic National League for 50 years. The original iiile of ihe piece was „Heima á Fróni." „Frón" is a poeiic name for Iceland. X real, as terribly awe-inspiring as the legendary U11 i m a Thule. Salt spray and the strong smell of fish — but the travesty to the imagina- tion of disma'l street lamps. Oil and smoke, and the com- motion of a harbor; the per- sistence of the rain. In the cold grey of an Octo- ber morning, most of the ro- mantic trappings have been shed, but very little of the grimness. Reykjavík stands in narrow muddy streets, whose ugly clay-colored puddles are like holes in the heel of a sock; and stares almost vac- antly from the windows of its unprepossessing f r a m e h o u s e s , or incongruously modernistic ones. Curiously bald it is, with its dearth of trees, its unadomed squares, its colorless pond. Flanking this somewhat in- credible city in the harbor — its r u s t y coal barges, and small passenger boats, and picturesque fishing trawlers, cal, cut the spray that leaps like playful children upon them, only to fall back into the sea — lifeless. Sometimes there are great flats of small stones, rusted by the wash of many years, and licked by a sea abruptly and berserkly green. But al- ways the frame of black rocks — a ledge of them projecting far out. With the tide, the sea recedes, leaving a stretch of darkish sand, and twisted masses of sea-weed. Incredible, almost caprici- ous, is the infinite flexibility of the landscape; the permu- t a t i o n s and combinations, given an ever-changing sea, the mountains, a rockly shore, the g a 1 a x y of colors. The warm yellow of lamps gleams from great windows in a purple sky before the sun falls into the sea. Or magnifi- cently extravagant, the sea becomes suddenly pink — be- comes an immense salmon, with faintly bluish fins pro- truding. Far out, the breakers move slowly, even awkwardly, like a cumbersome sea-monster, fat-bellied as in Böcklin’s “Spiel der Wellen.” And when it is more somberly green, this is Böcklin’s sea. His Triton rises out of it; Nereide suns herself on the rocks; the Najaden dive laughing into the spray. Twelve miles inland — and deathly stillness everywhere. The sun was pale gold over the mountains and cast rosy shadows on the white-capped peaks. The little streams were clear and dark, and almost sang their way along. For long stretches, great expanses of snow, then curious bumps of earth under a white blank- et, or crouching, gnome-like rock formations. In the early afternoon, the sun began to drop. Great bars of gold and purple splashed a c r o s s the sky, reflected themselves in the blue deep of Borgarfjörd, and were lost in the flames of the sun. Be- hind us, the last pale fingers of light were rapidly pulling the dusk shrouding over the mountains, until the peaks, veiled in grey, stood like ghostly noms guarding the entrance to Ultima Thule at the “lag end of the world.” Over the barrier, I suspect, there is no twilight of the gods, and the magnificent fi- gure of Wotan still dominates the Valkyriq. Brunnhilde is seen dimly on every moun- tain top. Norse mythology springs from, and has its life in such a background. * * * But we have in Iceland more than a vaporous myth- ology. We have a solid liter- ary tradition based on the sagas; we have a folklore re- plete with the mysticism and superstition so characteristic of our people. (And it is pos- sible at this point not to re- member the superb embodi- ment by Einar Jónsson of some of these legends, the symbolism with which he has invested them. I am thinking especially of the troll, petri- fied by the advent' of morn- ing, and the maiden, to whom the dawn brings freedom.). T h e “Þjóðminjasafn“ be- speaks many things of our earlier life and culture. The chalices and altar pieces bear witness not only to the exqui- site workmanship in many a “sveinsstykki”, but to the in- tensity of religous emotion. Native talent and industry produced the beautiful needlework and tapestries copied from the old manus- cript illustrations. The head- dress of the “peysuföt” did not, itv is to be hoped, have the tragic consequences of Hrefna’s coif; yet many a sword has, no doubt, a his- tory as significant as that of Bolli’s “Fótbítur.” „Gengin er tíð, þá loft og lög valkyrjur riðu í leiftra ljóma . . .“ í skeyii frá fréiiasiofu As- sociated Press í Brussels 9. nóvember var Morgunblaðinu tjáð, að Josef Luns, fram- kvæmdastjóri Atlantshafs- bandalagsins (NATO) hefði boðist til að miðla málum milli Islendinga og Breta í landhelgismálinu. Þá sem komið var hafði hvorugur að- ilanna þekkst boðið. Til íslands komu í Október mánuði 7835 manns, þaraf 4044 útlendingar á móti 3795 íslendingum. F1 e s t i r komu með flugvélum, aðeins 385 með skipum. Af þessum ferða- löngum voru 1970 Bandaríkja- menn, 372 Þjóðverjar, 299 Bretar, 284 Svisslendingar. Frá fjölmörgum löndum kom aðeins einn maður og má þar nefna Equador, Ghana, Túnis, íran, S.-Kórea, N.-Vietnam, Venezuéla, Marokko, Para- quay og Bolivíu. Þegar starfsári Banka- mannaskólans á íslandi lauk í byrjun desember s.l., kom í ljós að 82% nemenda voru stúlkur. 69 stúlkur sóttu nám- skeiðið en aðeins 18 piltar. Úiflulningur í s 1 a n d s til Tékkóslóvakíu hefir stórauk- ist á síðustu 12 mánuðum frá but it is essential that we re- cognize our heritage, our noble literature, our wealth % in traditions and customs and national traits, and that we bend our efforts towards their maintenance. Our people have made a magnificent contribu- tion in the face of overwhelm- ing odds — isolation, and geo- graphical insignificance. It is not fitting that we in the new land let it perish. 12. október, 1971. Aðal út- flutningsvaran til Tékkóslóva- kíu eru freðfiskiflök, en salá á öðrum varningi, svosem Þorskalýsi, fiskimjöli og osti hefir einnig farið vaxandi. Síldarverð í Danmörku var hátt síðastliðið haust og hefir bætt upp trega veiði hjá ein- staka skipi. Veiðin á Norður- sjávarmiðum var mjög treg í vetrarbyrjun, og voru þá mörg íslenzku síldveiðiskip- anna komin heim, en þeir bát- ar sem seldu síld í Danmörku fengu betra verð en nokkru- sinni fyrr á árinu. Fréífagrein í Reykjavíkur blaðinu Tíminn 7. desember, greinir frá óveðri 27. og 28. október. Var þá komið í Ijós að 507 símastaurar höfðu brotnað víðsvegar um landið, og 360 lagst á hliðina. Tjón á símalínum var talið nema hátt í 20 milljón króna. Sumstaðar var viðgerðum ekki lökið og enn ekki ljóst hve tjónið var mikið. Mun jarðsími lagður á þessum bilunarsvæðum eft- ir því sem kostur er á, segir í fréttinni, en áætllaður kostn- aður við bráðabirgða viðgerð- ir og endurbyggingu nam 10 milljónum króna. Úr blöðunum frá íslandi

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