Reykjavík Grapevine - 28.08.2010, Síða 31

Welcome to Gimli, where the Icelandic f lag is as proudly raised at sunrise on the
lawns of modest family homes as it is
tattooed on the limbs of young men;
where fishermen f lex their muscles
hoisting hearty whitefish from the
expansive lake; and where groups of
elderly congregate at Amma’s Café to
converse in Icelandic and indulge in
kleinur and pönnukökur alongside
their hot coffee. Such is life in the Ru-
ral Municiplality of Gimli, in Manitoba,
Canada.
In the midst of some particularly
harsh economic conditions and a nas-
ty eruption from Mount Askja in the
1870’s roughly a quarter of Iceland’s
population – which then totaled a mod-
est 72,000 people – emigrated from
their motherland in the North Atlantic
to seek greener pastures abroad. After
a group of roughly 300 Icelanders, who
had set their collective sights on Cana-
da, grew fed up with a couple years of
unfavourable weather and housing con-
ditions in northern Ontario their plight
caught the eye of a generous mission-
ary named John Taylor, who talked the
government into doling out some land
on the west bank of Lake Winnipeg.
Thus, the Icelandic transplants picked
up moved on to Gimli, officially claim-
ing the land on October 11th, 1875.
At the time of settlement the Gimli
area was declared New Iceland and the
settlers lived as though they were a
sovereign nation within Canada. They
kept order with their own laws and
maintained their own government.
They set up a fishing industry and lived
their lives as they had in Iceland. Except
there were lots of trees, lots of bugs and
long, frigid winters.
Fast-forward to modern day Gimli
and what you still have is, essentially,
New Iceland. There is a nostalgic patri-
otism that reigns; a vibrant and ongo-
ing pride in the f lag and the language
and the heritage and the lineage that
has thrived for 135 years. This speaks
not only to the determination of the set-
tlers but also to the genetically inher-
ited stubborn pride of the Icelanders
that hasn’t died out even thousands of
kilometers away from the motherland,
where a fjallkona presides over Íslend-
ingadagurinn in the f lat prairie lands
of central Canada.
All the photos in this spread were generously
provided by Reykjavík-based photographer Bal-
dur Kristjánsson, who ventured to Gimli five
months in to seven solid months of worldly travel
and enjoyed the feeling of Iceland while still so
far from home. Check out his video diary from
Gimli at www.grapevine.is
– CATHARINE FULTON
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15
10
12
8 18
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13 Fishermen of Icelandic descent in Hecla, Manitoba put
in an honest days work.
14 A group of friends meet at Amma’s café on the ground
floor of a home for the elderly. The group meets in vari-
ous configurations each Wednesday to preserve the
Icelandic language in Gimli. A punishment has recently
been instated for those who dare speak English.
15 Nick, a local restaurateur, is not actually of Icelandic
descent and has never been to Iceland but has a per-
manent sign of his love of Iceland inked on this back.
16 Helga Malis, Gimli’s Fjallkona 2010, poses in her back-
yard as cyclists pass by.
17 Motorcycle and Harley Davidson enthusiasts relax with
the Icelandic flag and a beer after a day on the road.
18 Icelanders who recently relocated to Gimli for a
change of scenery and now run a bakery stocked with
traditional Icelandic goodies.
19 Every year on August 2nd the Icelandic Festival of
Manitoba – Islendingadagurinn – celebrates Icelandic
heritage. It has been held annually since 1890.
20 Teenagers enjoy some Eyjafjallajökull Ís, named such
following the eruption. The photographer has missed
the actual eruption due to travels, but says the ice
cream made up for it.
In the midst of some particularly harsh economic
conditions and a nasty eruption from Mount Askja in
the 1870’s roughly a quarter of Iceland’s population –
which then totaled a modest 72,000 people – emigrated
from their motherland in the North Atlantic to seek
greener pastures abroad.