The Icelandic Canadian - 01.03.1955, Blaðsíða 22

20
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
Spring 1955
by LENA THORLEIFSON
She was nineteen. The winter in the
northern part of the little island in
the North Atlantic, Iceland, had been
very severe. Death had claimed
brother, sister and father. The little
turf-hut was cold and the larder bare.
“If only Bossie would release her off-
spring and fill the pail with good, rich
milk! That would help a little”,
thought the family. “Children”, said
the mother. “The agent from America
was here this fall. You remember how
he pictured the rolling prairies, the
thick bush, and the rich waters. Let us,
all of us, leave this summer, and start
a-fresh in America.”
There was rejoicing, and there were
tears, for how could they leave the old
home that had served their forefathers
from generation to generation? Oh, to
leave the many little beauty spots, the
sweet-smelling lowlands, the clear rills,
the purple mountains and everything!
In the summer of 1876 Borga with
her four sisters, brother-in-law, and
mother completed the six-week trip by
various modes of travel, pony, steam-
ship, train and flat-blottomed boat.
They were greeted in Winnipeg by a
few countrymen who had arrived the
year before. The destination of these
several hundred immigrants was the
region on the west shore of Lake Win-
nipeg, fifty-six miles north of Winpi-
peg, then a small town compared to
the present metropolis.
The immigrants with their boxes
and sacks were conveyed by barge to
their new abode at Gimli. On their
arrival they found that no houses were
available, not even tents, nothing but
the beautiful sky above, the heavy
bush in front, and the clear shining-
lake behind.
'Before long the woods echoed and
re-echoed, for logs were being cut and
trimmed for the much-needed shelters.
Bits of nets were cast and delicious fish
cooked by open fires made the meal.
Winter set in, but as everyone was
everyone’s neighbor, families were
fairly comfortable in their little log
cabins. Log stables housed one or two
cows granted by the government to the
destitute settlers. All went well until
the spring, when the whole community
was placed under a quarantine for
smallpox. Very few homes escaped,
and dear ones were placed under the
sod. Borga lost two older sisters the
same week.
Two years of hardship drove all
who could leave home to seek their
fortunes nearby or in Winnipeg. Borga
with two young girls started off on
the long walk of fifty-six miles. On
their arrival in Winnipeg they all
entered service.
What a time mistress and maid had
when neither understood the other!
What funny little incidents created
smiles, and now to recall them, laughs!
“Dress the chicken, Sarah”. (Her
mistress shortened her name, Sigur-
borg, to (Sarah). Sarah, in absolute
bewilderment wondered why her
mistress wanted to put clothes on the
chicken.
“Scrub the floor, Sarah, please.”
Again bewilderment, for incidentally,
the word ‘floor’ in Icelandic means