Wilderness E-Book

Unna Hvid

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Modern Tales of the North
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 83

Beschreibung

Östen had not only bought the Sami man's land and fishing water, he had also bought his boat and all his fine and well-maintained fishing nets. They were hanging on large fork-shaped birch trunks down by the lake shore. I have made a good purchase here, Östen thought to himself when he saw them. But even though people trade land, forest, and water with each other, they often forget to take into account that neither belongs to them. Other beings had an ancient claim to everything that man believed to possess. And Tomas Månsson might not have been completely honest when he praised the great fishing fortune here in the lake. He may have had many sons, but not as many as he once had. But Östen was unaware of all this, and that was perhaps a good thing. He works the hardest who believes he is the master of his own destiny. WILDERNESS is a settler story from Saxnäs in Swedish South Lapland in the early 1800s. WILDERNESS is the fourth independent story in the series Modern Nordic Folk Tales. Storytelling for adults.

Leseprobe

The further we travel, the higher the mountains become. To the west they stand high against the sky with white, shiny snowfields on the slopes — it's the fjäll.

Erik Modin, 1918, translation Unna Hvid

Contents

RICKLUNDGÅRDEN

ÖSTEN

SJÆLEVAD

WILDERNESS

SAXNÄS

SJÖRÅ

SKOGSRÅ

IDA

ARNULF

THE FOREST

VOCABULARY

INSPIRATION & SOURCES

RICKLUNDGÅRDEN

I got off the bus at the red-and-white wooden buildings on the banks of Kultsjön in southern Lapland. I removed my suitcase from the trunk and stood for a while, taking in the view while deciding which way to go. Poppies were dancing in the sun and mosquitoes swirled around my face. To my right was Saxnäsgården, and to the left, at the top of a mighty hill, was the Ricklundgården Museum, looking out over Marsfjället, where a few blobs of snow still dotted the peaks.

I grabbed my suitcase and entered Saxnäsgården, where I was given a room but immediately went into the restaurant because I couldn't detach myself from the view of Kultsjön and Marsfjället. What had it been like to live here in the wilderness just a hundred years ago? Or two hundred years ago?

For the next day I had booked a tour of Ricklundgården. We were a small group of seven and our tour guide, Rebecka, was a great storyteller. She told us about the artist couple Folke and Emma Ricklund, about the inspiration from la dolce vita in Italy and the many artist friends who visited the house and donated works to the couple when they left. Which was often after a long stay, for the food was good, the room looked out over forest, lake and fjäll, and Emma was a beloved hostess.

Folke was a famous painter. Emma also painted, although she, and I am tempted to say of course, did not win any recognition at the time for her beautiful paintings with mountain motifs in delicate blue colours.

The tour of the museum ended with a visit to the museum's own large kåte, decorated in authentic Sami fashion with a fireplace in the middle, a hole for the smoke at the top and sleeping places on both sides of the fireplace. Over the fire hung a pot in a chain, where coffee was cooked for us. We sat down on the sleeping bunks and made ourselves comfortable, because now another storyteller, Tina, took over. She was going to tell us a story from the settler era in the first half of the 1800s.

Tina had her two children, aged 6 and 8, with her. They both had fiery red hair and eyes as blue as cornflowers. It was clear that the children were used to listening to good stories.

"Tell the one about your great grandmother," said the smallest, the boy, his eyes shining blue in the glow of the hearth. Tina smiled:

"He means my great-great-great-great-grandmother." She counted her fingers while listing the 4 times great. Then she introduced herself as Tina Ask and told us that she was born and raised in Saxnäs. Her family had always lived there. She began telling her story, and it didn't take long before the warmth in the kåte had lulled the children to sleep. I and the other adults were on the other hand, very much awake.

ÖSTEN

"My great-great-great-great-grandmother's name was Ida. She was born in 1810 as the first and only child of two settlers who came here to Saxnäs that same year. Her father's name was Östen, and my family history began in 1809, when Sweden had just lost Ostrobothnia and other large Finnish territories to the Russians in the Finnish War.

He had seen so many bloody days, so many dangers shared. Not only victories, but much defeat, whose wounds have never healed. So many things the world has now forgotten, were clearly in his memory hidden.

Östen was tired. Tired of war, tired after the many weeks of riding home towards the farm in Själevad Parish in Västernorrland.

Finally, home, he looked forward to collecting his fiancée, Sisse, from her home Mora in Dalarna. He had promised this before going to war against the Russians in Finland.

He had only met her once at a church weekend in Mora, where her father had a large merchant's house with whom Östen's father had traded.

The fathers had agreed that the young people were a good match, and Sisse's father had become angry when Östen had postponed the wedding to go to war. It did not make sense to go to war for the King when there was enough to do at home. He should have let his younger brothers do that. All of the young couple's parents agreed on this.

But back then Östen had been drawn to the war adventure like all the other young men from the parish back home. Great adventures awaited in Finland, the Russians were to be beaten back to Bjarmaland, and perhaps it didn't matter that the wedding thing waited a while. He was in no hurry.

But now it was the Swedes who had been beaten and sent home to Sweden. Östen had seen the Russians occupy all of southern Finland. He had been there when Turku fell, and the Swedes had to leave headquarters and flee to Vasa through heavy snow and temperatures around forty degrees below zero. The morale of the army was at rock bottom after the soldiers had had to surrender almost without a fight in southern Finland, and soon they had to retreat even further north, to Oulu. In Ostrobothnia, the power wavered back and forth until the decisive Battle of Oravais, in which the main Swedish force was defeated and forced to withdraw from Finland. After which the Russians took large stretches of coastline in Norrbotten, until the King finally capitulated.

Now the war was over, and Östen rode down the coast in the late autumn sun to reach his fiancée in Dalarna. So many comrades he had seen die. In battle, in the snow, or by the countless diseases that spread among the soldiers. Never again, he thought. Now he would bring Sisse home to Själevad and take over the farm when his parents got too old.

Östen had gotten engaged to Sisse with five gold rings, and she had promised to be faithful to him while he served in the Kings army. When he came to pick her up from Mora before Christmas, her father suddenly did not want to stand by his word and let Sisse marry Östen.

The father believed that Östen had broken off the engagement by his absence, and both lords and counts had since asked for her hand. Sisse had said no, but her father was sure that she would soon be able to find a suitor far more suitable than Östen.

During the war, the merchant's wealth had grown, and he was now a respected man who showed generous hospitality to great people and nobility visiting the area. It was said that the daughter played a role in this hospitality in an inappropriate way, and people frowned at the merchant, despite his status.

But Östen was a battle-trained young man, so he drew his sword and demanded his right. The merchant ended up having to keep his word, throw a quick New Year's wedding for the two and let Sisse go with Östen to his ancestral farm in the north. She sat in front of Östen on the horse, and did not look back, although her mind was filled with uneasiness.

When they came to a clearing where a few roses still withstood the frost, Sisse asked if they could rest for a while. Östen jumped off his horse and helped Sisse down. Then he spread his blue cloak out in the snow so she could lie down and rest a little.

Sisse lay down on the cloak, and no sooner had she laid down than she gave birth to two male children.

Östen stroked Sisse on her pale cheek and asked who the father of these small children was.

Sisse replied that her father had behaved so strangely and had her sit in front of his large windows facing the harbor, where many distinguished men passed by. There were eleven of these men who had visited her at home, but only one of them had enjoyed her honor.

Östen thought about that. Then he stroked her white cheek again and asked:

"What are you going to do with your babies now?"

"I want to put one under a wide bridge, and that makes me so worried. The other one I want to put under a wide stone, that's why I'm so sad." Östen listened to Sisse with furrowed brows.

"Oh, sweet little Sisse, don't talk like that. My sister lives not far from here, in the village there. She would raise those children, even if there had been three of them." Östen lifted Sisse onto the horseback: "If you can ride, then I would like to walk with you."

And so, it was. Östen dragged the horse with Sisse and the two little boys to the nearest village, where his sister welcomed the two babies and promised to raise them as her own and never talk about their ancestry to anyone.

SJÆLEVAD

Now Östen and Sisse continued their travel and finally reached Östen's birthplace in Själevad Parish in the middle of winter. His mother stood in front of the house in the courtyard.

"Tell me once, Östen, my dear son, why are you bringing such a pale bride home with you?" the mother asked, looking at Sisse with falcon eyes.

"She may be pale and blue. I've had to pick her up with iron and steel," Östen replied, patting the sword hanging from his hip.

"Have you abducted her?" said the mother, her eyes wide, her voice shrill.