Reykjavík Grapevine - 05.12.2014, Blaðsíða 34

It would seem that capitalism and
globalisation have transformed the
Yule Lads into yet another vehicle for
consumerism. Something like that. In
the old days, however, they were fear-
ful, a bunch of villains who terrorised
children and people in the countryside
around Christmas.
Each one has a name that reveals
their true and naughty nature, for ex-
ample Candle-Stealer, Spoon-Licker,
Door-Slammer and of course Window-
Peeper. They typically travel with their
ruthless Yule Cat, which delights in
eating children who have not received
new clothing for Christmas.
The idea that there are thirteen
Yule Lads is a modern one. In fact, the
clan used to be much bigger clan. To
wit, around 80 names of Yule broth-
ers and sisters can be found in folk
tales and poems dating back centu-
ries. These forgotten Christmas villains
had sinister and strange names like
Faldafeykir (“Skirt-Sweeper”), Bjál-
finn sjálfur (“The Fool Himself”), Svar-
tiljótur (“Ugly Black”) and Litlipungur
(“Small-Testicles”).
Weird and quite disturbing stories
about the Yule Lads of old can be
found in old manuscripts and books.
We translated one of these stories. It is
quite strange.
The Girl With The Cursing Habit
There once was a farmer who lived
close to the sea. Out for a walk one
day, he sees a sealskin boat land on
the shore. The boat’s crew disembarks,
and the farmer sees that they are Yule
Lads, plump and fat. They carry their
boat ashore to the mountain and se-
cure it. Then they start exchanging
words. The fattest of them brags, say-
ing he expects a comfortable stay as
usual.
The farmer thinks that it would be
a good idea to trick him, and see if he
will be as arrogant next year. He goes
home, making no mention of this.
The farmer’s housemaid was very
foul-mouthed and
cursed a lot, and the
farmer knew that
the fat Yule Lad was
nourished by her
cursing. He spoke
with the housemaid
and promised to give
her some green cloth
to make a skirt, if
she refrained from
cursing through the
Christmas fast. The
maid said she would
try to not curse.
As Christmas gets nearer, the maid
has not sworn once, and the farmer
made sure that no one else swore, ei-
ther. However, one day close to Christ-
mas, the maid goes into the outhouse
and finds one of the
cows so unruly that
she has no control
over it. She forgets
her promise and
yells: “Why is the
damn cow acting
this way?“ Immedi-
ately after uttering
the curse word, she
hears a faint but joy-
ous laughter—and immediately regrets
cursing.
On the thirteenth night of Christ-
mas, the farmer goes out to the beach
where the Yule Lads docked. He sees
the lads gathering together, each in a
different condition. Some are fat and
happy, others gaunt and sad, and yet
others somewhere in between—all
depending on how their stay at the lo-
cal farms went. The farmer’s lad is the
gauntest and saddest of them all.
The other lads inquire of him why
he is so gaunt. He answers that it is
because the farmer and his house-
hold did not curse. The other Yule lads
thought this a shame, and then they
disappeared out to sea.
Source: Sigfús Sigfússon/Helga Einars-
dóttir, ‘Íslenskar þjóðsögur og sazgnir,
III bindi’. Translated by Lemúrinn.
34 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 18 — 2014LEMÚRINN
Lemúrinn is an Icelandic web magazine (Icelandic for the native primate of Mad-
agascar). A winner of the 2012 Web Awards, Lemúrinn.is covers all things strange
and interesting. Go check it out at www.lemurinn.is
In Iceland, there is no Santa Claus. Instead, there are thir-
teen “jólasveinar,” which can be translated to “Yule Lads.”
They live in mountains and hike to town, one by one, for
the thirteen days leading up to Christmas Eve. Their moth-
er is Grýla, a troll known for eating babies and beating up
her husband. In previous centuries, the Yule Lads were a
bunch of scraggly, merry—sometimes thieving—pranksters
that would get up to all sorts of shenanigans on their vis-
its to civilization. In recent decades, the lads have mostly
abandoned their mischievous ways—today’s youth mostly
knows them as a group of friendly country bumpkins who
like to dress like skinny Santa Claus impersonators. Indeed,
Icelandic children put a shoe on their windowsill every night
leading up to Christmas Eve, and receive little gifts from the
Yule Lads.
Illustrations
K-Fai Steele
Words
Helgi Hrafn Guðmundsson & Vera Illugadóttir
ARTISAN BAKERY
& COFFEE HOUSE
OPEN EVERYDAY 6.30 - 21.00
LAUGAVEGUR 36 · 101 REYKJAVIK
The Sinister
Christmas Clan
Of Iceland
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ate about our work.
Everybody here feels
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ing with such a great
ingredient, and it's the
most rewarding thing I
have done in my life."