Lögberg-Heimskringla - 31.10.1980, Blaðsíða 6

6-WINNIPEG, FÖSTUDAGUR 31, OKTÓBER 1980
By Aðalsteinn Kristjansson
Translated by Caroline Gunnarsson
Panic in paradise
Translator's note: This short story, best described as a fantasy, first ap-
peared in the 1926 spring and summer issue of the Icelandic language
magazine, Saga. In an introductory note the author explains that the
story was scribbled in fun in Sausalito, California, to commemorate his
latest session with the poet and humorist, K.N. Julius, and 25 years of
solid friendship with that noted North Dakotan.
Saga was printed in Winnipeg, published and edited by Thorsteinn Th.
Thorsteinsson.
In a dark mood, Christopher Colum-
bus plodded down Main Street in
Heaven, a commercial street. The old
explorer had long been bored with the
place, found social life among the
chosen aristocrasy dead and unevent-
fui. His passion for adventure remained
as demanding, as rash and unruly as it
had been four and a half centuries ago
when he discovered America.
Christopher was determined to move
unless he could manage some major
changes in this depressing environ-
ment, maybe even silence that
monotonous harp. He knew enough of
holy writ not to expect exciting enter-
tainment in these parts, but to think
that with all the space available to
them these so-called souls chose to
spend eternity in one appointed spot.
He feared the slow death of his
own immortal soul. Why hadn’t he
thought of anything sensational for
years? He must be declining in the
stifling atmosphere among the chosen
ones in Paradise. He had been
resourceful enough, he remembered,
when he needed to talk his dim-witted
countrymen into joining his famous ex-
pedition long ago. Nothing had chang-
ed, he thought gloomily. Nothing could
be achieved in the way of invention or
adventure in Heaven or ón Earth. He
could stir up a little curiosity in some
people, but they wouldn't believe in
him. The boldest among them
whispered to their friends that clearly
poor Christopher was a bit unhinged.
He could not forget what a chore it had
been to convince his countrymen that
he had found America after he return-
ed home from his great expedition. It
was as hard for them to think as it was
for an untrained dog to stand on his
hind legs, Christopher mused.
He was suddenly roused from his
melancholy brooding as he felt an iron
grip on his arm. Christopher glanced
over his shoulder and saw a fascinating
vision. Above him loomed a light-
skinned, wavy haired giant.
Christopher at once took him for a
Norseman, although he didn't learn his
family history until later.
"Christopher Columbus?" asked the
giant.
"That's my name."
"I have been looking for you here,a
said the giant. "You would be the
wretch who claims to have found
America."
"I did find America," Christopher
snapped.
"Take it easy, fellow," warned the
giant, "your assertion is no proof.
Although your travels may have speed-
ed up the settlement of America, I am
the man who found it.”
"Who are you — Leifur Eiriksson,
perhaps?
"One and the same," Leifur replied,
brightening at the thought of not being
entirely forgotten. "I am a Viking and
the son of a Viking, and I crossed the
greaf sea nearly 500 years before you.
It was information you gathered from
my countrymen in Iceland that fired
your spirit and guided you," Leifur
said stoutly, and a storm seemed to
cross his rugged features.
"I have heard of you," Christopher
drawled. "Some dust disturbers claim
to have found some stones that you're
supposed to have played with, but
there are so many unreliable rumors.
Aside from that you can't complain
that your Icelandic Sagas have
neglected to mention you and your
supposed discoveries, whatever the so-
called proof," scoffed Christopher, a
tremor in his voice.
"There's plenty of proof and more in
the making. I think I could convince
you very easily," said Leifur."
"Who do you propose to convince?"
asked Christopher.
"I don't talk to myself," Leifur in-
formed him, "and you are the only
person within earshot at the moment.
It's not as if we had telephones or radio
in this backward place. But speaking of
you and your exploits, you were equip-
ped with three ships for that exploring
jaunt of yours and still got no farther
than San Salvador."
"I was caught in a violent storm at
sea and my crew threatened to toss me
overboard," said Columbus plain-
tively.
"I was caught in a violent storm, too,
with only one small craft to rely on, yet
neither I nor my crew thought of turn-
ing back," Leifur Eiriksson replied.
"No doubt a storm raged underneath
your helmet and nowhere else,"
snorted Christopher Columbus.
"Check your tongue, Christopher,”
Leifur growled as he moved to grasp
Columbus by the shoulders, but blar-
ing trumpets stopped the two explorers
in their tracks, and they glanced back
to see a carriage with six men in dark
business suits, waving banners with
the strangest news bulletin:
"Following the example of North
Dakota, sale of intoxicating liquor is to
be declared illegal in Paradise. North
Dakota reports only two arrests for
drunkenness during July, August and
December, with fines totalling $25.00.
During the same period the U.S. cap-
tial, Washington, D.C., reported 800
arrests for the same offence while an
added 529 paid fines totalling $56,000
for breaking liquor laws. Down with
the liquor vendors."
There was more to the bulletin, but
the carriage moved on before they
could read it all, and a mob chased the
vehicle, shouting and clowning, mak-
ing it hard for the two observers to con-
centrate.
"Who are these people," Columbus
questioned a small boy running after
the carriage.
"They are twentieth century North
Americans whó have just been admit-
ted," shouted the boy as he shot up the
street.
The two ancient explorers gazed at
each other and fell silent. Leifur spoke
first.
"I don't see many of your old cronies
here, Christopher," he observed,
"though they'd be as rnuch at home as
Caroline Gunnarsson.
the split personalities they're taking in
now. Seems that they don’t know one
side of themselves from the other. You
remember what the Spanish court had
become in your day Christopher, when
lying was a fine art and believing a
social grace. When I found America our
way was to tell all, the good with the
bad. That was a virtue in my day, but
the ways of the Spanish court seem to
have won out in the world of today."
And Leifur continued. "You found
America and your settlement there
survived. You are responsible."
"Never, never," cried Columbus. "I
did not find America. I found Cuba."
But Leifur hardly heard him. He was
disturbed by something he thought
he'd read on one of the banners that
just invaded Paradise:
"Temperence scores a new triumph
in North Dakota. The poet K.N. has
now joined the Good Templars."
continued on page 7
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