My heritage (article) by Leanne Dyck

My friend author Pam Withers asked me to represent Iceland in this celebration of culture.

On Saturday, September 2, I was pleased to accept my friend Author Pam Withers's invitation to read a story at Mayne Island's International Festival. The festival invited islanders to celebrate their cultural background through food shared, music played, jokes told, and stories read. This is what I read...

Hello, I'm Leanne Dyck, and I'm Canadian. I'm Icelandic-Canadian thanks to my mom.

My maternal great-grandparents immigrated from northern Iceland to North America in the late 1800s. They didn't come alone. There are more Icelanders in Canada than anywhere else outside of Iceland. Almost immediately, these new Icelandic-Canadians established a newspaper and a library.

In 2007, thanks to my husband, I fulfilled a lifelong dream to travel to Iceland. Iceland is an island in the North Atlantic Ocean with a population roughly equal to the city of Victoria (on Vancouver Island), and every tenth person is an author. 

There I met distant relatives who went out of their way to make me feel at home. They provided cozy accommodations and served me delicious meals. I globbed ponnukokur (a thin, rolled pancake served with brown sugar and jam), skyr (similar to yogurt), hard fish (buttered dried fish eaten like crackers), and boiled dinner (boiled potatoes, boiled fish, and butter).  I ate too much fermented shark (an Icelandic delicacy) and drank too much Brennivin. Enough about that... And they gave me this...

Ta-da!

photo by ldyck

This Icelandic flag was made in their flag factory. 

While in Iceland, I stayed in Hofsos—a picturesque seaside village. The Hofsos Emigration Centre commemorates Iceland's emigration to North America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and promotes the connection between the people of Iceland and their descendants. (Hofsos Emigration Centre) I was able to trace my lineage back to 900. I descend from a long line of shepherds and sheep farmers. 

While in Hofsos, I was inspired to write a poem. I've continued to work on it off and on ever since. This is what I have so far...

I set sail for a distant land in pursuit of buried treasure.

My ship docked and I set to work.

The frozen ground broke my axe. The molten lava melted my shovel.

I roared at the mountains, "The land I walk is foreign land. The

 sounds I hear are foreign sounds. The air I breathe is foreign air."

I thundered at the sea, "This land of fire and ice is not a part of me."

Exhausted, I fell to my knees.

A distant, muted voice sang in a thick accent from deep within the

earth. "Keep digging, Elskan. We wait."

Elksan means "beloved" or "dear one" in Icelandic.

Icelanders seek connection with one another and to retain the Icelandic culture through the Iceland-based Snorri programs and through the ethnic festival Íslendingadagurinn, which is held every August in Gimli, Manitoba.

Incidentally, the Snorri programs were named in honour of Snorri Thorfinnson, the first settler born in North America. His parents were Icelandic.

'In Icelandic' is a short story inspired by something my Grandma Olafson overheard...

 In Icelandic 

(Please click the link to listen to me read In Icelandic)

The white-haired women were already seated when the young man climbed onto the bus. The minute he sat down, they started talking—in Icelandic.

"He's so handsome," said one of the women.

"Yes," the other agreed. "I wonder if he's married."

Her friend nudged her arm. "Oh, go on. You're much too old."

"Not for me—for my granddaughter. But if I were forty years younger."

They shared a giggle.

The subject of their attention pulled the cord, requesting the bus to stop. The young man offered them a smile as he passed their bench. "Have a good day, ladies," he said—in Icelandic.

Thank you for listening, and thanks to the organizers for this evening of cultural sharing. By sharing our cultures, we all grow richer. 

You: So, Leanne, you haven't been on stage to give an author reading for at least two, maybe three years. How did it go?

Me: Well...

Afi (short story) by Leanne Dyck

I'm blessed with a wonderfully supportive family--and friends--who have nurtured my writing. Here's an early example...

Afi

My mom's parents—my amma (grandma) and afi (grandpa)—lived on School Road. I visited them before and after school and during lunch. Amma taught me crafts. Afi taught me how to play gin rummy. He was a grizzly bear, belting out Icelandic folk songs, but... One day, I saw him shake. I thought it was odd, and then I knew it was scary. Amma had to guide him into a chair. I stood there staring, not knowing what to do or where to go—not wanting to see. 

Afi noticed me. 

"Leanne, Elsken (my dear), it's time to go home," Amma told me.

I left, but I couldn't stop worrying about them. Would Afi be okay? Would Amma?

Afi came home from the hospital—a shell of the man he'd once been. I think he knew he was passing away; I think he knew it would be soon.

Mom judged attending Afi's funeral too emotionally upsetting for me. I stayed home, but Afi was with me. He remained with me. So when my language arts class was required to write a character sketch, I wrote about him. Mom helped me with the spelling, grammar, and punctuation, but the words were mine.

Knowing Amma was lonely without Afi, we visited her as often as we could. 

In Amma's living room, Mom sat in the turquoise chair with wooden arms. "Mom, Leanne has something she'd like to read to you. It's about Dad."

Amma joined me on the sofa.

I wanted to tell her that my essay wasn't very good, that I wished it was better. But I didn't. I just read... 

"I am sure in your life you have met someone who really made a lasting impression on you. Possibly they offered you a new perspective on life and maybe even on yourself. This special person in my life was my afi.

"Afi once told me that if you were liked by both little children and dogs, you had to be doing something right.

"Little children followed him everywhere like he was the Pied Piper. Dogs ran to greet him. 

"His secret: he was always the straight goods. He never tried to hide any aspect of his character. Nor did he try to create a ribbon and bow effect. It would have been nearly impossible to camouflage any aspect of his strong personality, anyway. So, he didn't waste time trying. 

"He was as stubborn as an old mule." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amma grin. "And very opinionated. Yet he did not try to push his ideas on anyone. This was not what Afi hoped to do by stating his views. His goal, instead, was discussion. He had the love of debate of a lawyer."

Amma sniffled and pulled a tissue out of her sleeve. 

"I'm sorry, Amma. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'll stop."

"Oh, no, Elsken." She smiled. "They're tears of joy. Please keep reading your story."

"Afi regarded each person, no matter what age, gender, or race, as having something special to share. Gregarious was his nature, and debating was his tool."

Silence.

"The end," I said so that Amma would know I was done.

"Oh, Elsken, that's wonderful. You are a wordsmith."

When I graduated from high school, Amma gave me a pen and pencil set.

"So you'll continue to write, Elsken." She told me with a hug.

Next Sunday evening...

Bunny by Mona Awad

'Just me and them in a room with no visible escape route for two hours and twenty minutes. Every week for thirteen weeks.' Workshop is protagonist Samantha Heather Mackey's personal hell.

Vinaterta by Leanne Dyck

This creative non-fiction short story was first published (2005) in Flavours of Vancouver:  Dishes From Around the World.
Compiled by Sheila Peacock and Joan Cross for the Canadian Broadcast Corporation
Published by Douglas and McIntyre

Cookbook blurb:  If you could drop in on the kitchens of your Vancouver neighbours, these are the dishes you'd find burbling on the stove. And these are the stories that people share along with generous helping of their unique specialties.

CBC Radio invites you to explore Vancouver's international character with this globe-spanning collection of recipes contributed by every kind of Vancouverite, from those who have lived here for generations to those who have just arrived.

Don't be shy. These long-time favourites have been perfected over the years, then kitchen-tested as well. And while you're getting to know the neighbours, you'll be helping kids around the world. Proceeds from Flavours of Vancouver go to Save the Children Canada.

Buy this book

When I was growing up, Christmas was a joyous time of family gatherings, traditions, good cheer and food. Delicious smells poured forth from Mom's kitchen. This was her opportunity to showcase mouthwatering talent. Two desserts were at the centre of these festivities:  English Pud to celebrate my dad's heritage, and my mom's recipe for Icelandic Vinaterta. Not surprisingly, Mom had been given the roots of her recipe from her mom, Grandma Olafson. Grandma's recipe loudly proclaimed its Icelandic heritage with its strong ethnic taste. Mom slightly toned down the recipe to make it more palatable for her husband. I, too, far preferred Mom's recipe. Years passed and I fell in love. Christmas was the test for my Mennonite boyfriend. How would he react to my large extended family? To Vinaterta? To my delight, he seemed at home in the company of my family. Next, he was served a piece of Vinaterta. The first bite was foreign to him. He turned the tastes around in his mouth. Would he finish his piece?

"It's okay if you don't finish it. It's a unique taste," my mom offered.

"Oh, no, I like it." He finished it. "May I have another piece, please?"

Later that year we were married. Vinaterta was our wedding cake.

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Learn more about the Icelandic-Canadian culture. Read the Icelandic Connection Magazine.
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Next post:  Meeting an Angel (short story)

Naming characters by Leanne Dyck

Here are some tips on how to find a name for your character.

Typing 'baby names' into your favourite search engine will yield a wealth of candidates. Adding girl or boy as well as the year of your character's birth to the search words will help pin point your search.

Cemeteries as well as telephone and history books are excellent sources for last names.


As I am Icelandic-Canadian, I like to use names from this ethnic group. Nelson S. Gerrard's book The Icelandic Heritage has helped increase my list of names.


What do you do if you can't find the perfect name?

Create your own.

Try combining names. For example, I combined 'Pat' and 'Ann' to create 'Pathan'.