nourishing obscurity

Bjarni Brynjólfsson, of Iceland Review, writes of the Yule Lad tradition:

First of all we have the Yule Lads, called jólasveinar in Icelandic. They are Iceland’s Santas. The Yule Lads are brothers, 13, no less, and they start “coming to town” 13 nights before Christmas.

These mythical creatures are said to have troll-like parents called Grýla and Leppalúdi.

The lads and their horrible mother start roaming the country at the darkest time of the year and, although the lads are pranksters, who according to legend slam doors, steal food and candles, in the minds of children they are nice men who bring small gifts.

Grýla, their mother, is up to no good because she takes children who behave badly, stuffs them into her gigantic bag and brings them to her cave. God knows what will happen to them but reportedly there is a big pot on a burning stove with boiling water.

I know. This sounds terrible but children love the macabre. The contradictions in this story are also plentiful.

How can the Yule Lads be nice when they were brought up so badly and have such a horrible mother?

What about their father, poor old Leppalúdi? He never leaves the cave while Grýla goes out and has all the fun.

I’ve reached the conclusion that Grýla is a feminist who orders Leppalúdi to stay at home while she goes out to hunt down children who do not obey their parents.

Somehow we have managed to mix our old folk tales of the prankster Yule Lads with the kind and chubby, red-clad and white-bearded Santa that brings children gifts over Christmas.

The fact that there are 13 Yule Lads brings possibilities. Each of them arrives at night and brings gifts for the well-behaved children. The children place their shoes in the window where each Yule Lad places his present.

It might only be a mandarin, piece of candy or hair pin but it works like magic—at the busiest time of the year, the kids behave like angels.

And it does not matter if all the windows are firmly closed; the Yule Lad still magically arrives with his presents.

If the children have been misbehaving he might just leave them an old potato. No one wants that and such happenings are rare.

When children grow a little older, strange stories start to spread among their peers, that maybe it is not the Yule Lads that bring the gifts but their parents.

My daughter, who turns seven just before Christmas, had heard this rumor at school. I denied it with all my wits. “Of course it is not the parents,” I said and pretended to be shocked.

“I know,” she said “but they are saying this at school. I know you and mom have no money to buy presents because you are renovating the house. So it must be the Yule Lads,” she continued.

I could not possibly correct her notion of us being completely broke because that would have thwarted her belief, although I found her perspective pretty bleak.

Then one evening we were driving in the car and she started chanting some nasty rhyming lyrics she had heard at school about Grýla pissing on herself and my younger one started laughing and singing along.

I told them to be careful. It was very dark outside and I said Grýla could probably hear them. “There is no Grýla,” the older one said.

“Oh, yes there is,” I said. “Just think about it. Didn’t you get a gift last night from a Yule Lad?”

“Yes.”

“Grýla is their mother and you know that. How do you think they survive in the winter if it were not for their parents?”

She bought that completely and stopped singing on the spot. But I know this charm will not work next year. She will have figured it out by then.

This year she knows by heart which Yule Lad is coming each night and writes wonderful Christmas cards to them.

A few nights back she was so tired that she said to her mother she could not write. “Do you think he will be disappointed if I only leave him a cookie?” she remarked to her mother’s amusement.

The little one is totally fixed on the Yule Lads and although she is very sleepy at 8 am she will drag herself out of bed, with her eyes still half-closed, to go and look at her small shoe in the window. After seeing the gift she will be wide awake.

And if the message of Grýla fails to deliver the desired result of children behaving themselves there is always a last resort to use the old horrible tale of the vicious Christmas Cat.

They say modernity has killed that cat because it will only eat children who have not got new clothes for Christmas. But the bank-crash we call “kreppa” has definitely brought this starved monster to life again.

Over 3,000 Icelandic families are turning up at the doors of charities this year to be able to celebrate Christmas decently. They will receive donations of food, clothes and even some pre-packaged Christmas gifts that will save them from the horrible creature.

It takes courage to accept charity in a small country. But what about those who can’t swallow their pride and don’t seek help? Will they be gobbled up by the Christmas Cat?

I hope not. I hereby declare this an open letter to the cat and ask it to make an exception this year and keep its yellow eyes out for the greedy businessmen and banker maniacs who failed us all.

Meanwhile, in Australia:

Filed under: Society & human issues