The Icelandic Canadian - 01.04.2007, Page 34

The Icelandic Canadian - 01.04.2007, Page 34
32 THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN Vol. 61 #1 Snorri Reflection by Sara Loftson While many people trace their family tree as a favorite hobby from the comfort of their home computer or local archives, this summer I am one of 13 university and young adult aged Icelandic-North Americans who will travel to Iceland to trace our family tree in person. We've been selected to participate in the six-week Snorri Program established in 1999. While we're in Iceland we will study Icelandic language and culture at the University of Reykjavik, stay with distant relatives and travel the Island on an adven- ture tour. In preparation for this trip I have been studying Icelandic through an online lan- guage course. I've met people at my local Icelandic club who've helped me with some language lessons, lent me reading material about the country and given me tips on what to expect when I go over there. I've also taken advantage of Internet social net- working technologies such as MSN and Facebook, helping me connect with past and future Snorri participants. There is no doubt that I am a quintes- sential Canadian, a cultural fruit salad with an ounce of Ukrainian, a pinch of Polish, a little bit of Lebanese and inch of Icelandic. I've never really had a cultural identity beyond eating the odd perogy or slice of Vlnarterta. Yet, I've always wondered about my many cultural stripes. Perhaps as a young person the search for self identity is synonymous with coming of age. I'm proud to call myself Icelandic. It's unique and it's always impressed people, if for no other reason than they'd never met an Icelander before. I'm from Winnipeg, Manitoba and even though there's a large number Icelandic Manitobans, we are still an anomaly to most. Sadly, beside my grandma's Vlnarterta and aunty's Icelandic pancakes, I know very little about my heritage. In many ways Iceland is as mysterious to them as it is to me. But this summer I hope to solve this mystery and discover my roots. I have been asking myself what rele- vance does learning about a culture that doesn’t play a role in my day to day life have for me? I think the answer is simple. First of all, it does play a role. Iceland is imprinted on my heart. Icelandic values have influenced my father’s relationship with his father and my relationship with my father. I don't remember much about Afi other than he was a man of few words with sky blue eyes, pale skin and white hair. He died when I was in elementary school. Afi is buried in Lundar, Manitoba where we can trace our family roots. As the eldest of 11 children, Afi came from a poor family and remained poor as a carpenter. While he held on tight to his heritage partly by socializing with other Icelanders at his local Lutheran church, he was too poor to ever visit his ancestoral homeland. My trip to Iceland is a first for at least three or four of our family’s generations. So many details from the past are fuzzy and it's my hope to shed some light on them to brighten our path for the future.

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The Icelandic Canadian

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