The Icelandic Roots Writers Group used an exercise to create a dialogue between two people planning to emigrate.
By Doreen Borgfjord McFarlane
It is Christmas in the year 1887. Eggert and Sigriður have been finding it hard to make ends meet. Over the many years of their marriage, Sigriður has given birth to thirteen children, three of whom died shortly after being born, or within two years.
They are sitting at a table near the fire. It is beginning to die, and the room where they are sitting is becoming colder. The young people have fallen asleep. It has not been a Christmas to remember. Tonight, the wind has been wildly blowing snow around their little turf home; making its way inside through cracks and fissures. There has been a meal but by no means any kind of Christmas feast. Because of the weather, they have been unable to attend the church, which is rather distant, so they’ve not experienced the joy that comes with sharing special days with neighbors. Besides, the community they live in has become divided, even after many happy years of love and Christian harmony. The split among them is affecting almost all of them in the community. To make it much worse, the division is also happening within families. Will they go to America or will they stay?
Eggert takes another sip of his now cold coffee. With a look of melancholy, he looks around the room of the simple home they have shared for so many years. He does not look Sigriður in the eye.
Eggert: Sigriður, elskan min, I know you do not want to have this conversation, but it is something we shall have to share. The doing that is. Not the deciding. We are going to have to go to America - to Canada. There simply is no life for us here.
(Sigriður pulls her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.)
Sigriður: It’s Christmas Eggert. Can you not keep this for another day?
Eggert: (loudly) No, I cannot! (Then softly but firmly) I do not want to speak loudly and wake the children. But we must talk about this because – no matter what you think you want – it is going to have to happen.
Sigriður: Eggert. Let me say it one more time then. I do not want us to go. I have been a good wife to you all these years. We have seen every adversity that could come to any couple – any family! Besides, how on God’s earth is it that you think bad fortune would be any different in one country than in another. You have always been such an optimist and there are times that is such a good thing. But this time, I am afraid you have gone too far. Don’t you know Eggert that the world always looks better on the other side. America is just a place. We are not going to find gold there, or probably even enough to eat.
(Sigriður’s cup slips from her hand and falls to the floor in a loud clatter. Coffee splatters over the table and floor. She stoops down, carefully picks up the shattered pieces of china, and moves them to the garbage pail.)
Eggert: The government people have told us there’s so much land in Canada that we will be given without charge. Hundreds of acres of good land for farming, and without cost to those who want to work it. Besides, there are also jobs everywhere because Canada is a young country, and it’s big and growing.
Sigriður: And what do you think YOU know about farming. Our land here has been good for raising sheep and that’s about it. That is something that we DO know how to do. We are not young Eggert! Learning new things is not for us. And learning a new language! And leaving our beloved mother country. (Sigriður begins to weep.)
(Eggert gets up and moves closer. He puts his arms around her shoulders. She does not resist.)
Eggert: Elskan, you’ll just have to trust me. Can’t you see how badly things are going here in Iceland? There will be a new Iceland out there in Canada, with plenty of room for us and for our children to grow and live and thrive. (His dour demeanor turns to a smile as he thinks of his dream of life in Canada.)
Sigriður: Even just the terror of going over there on a ship is more than I can bear! I have heard from others who’ve gone in the last couple of years. Our neighbors have been telling me when we do see them. They get letters about terrible storms, people dying before they ever get to your Promised Land, sickness, and hunger. And, besides, how do we know the promises that are being made about land are even going to be honored? Once we leave this house and sell everything and start on that journey, there’ll be no turning back. And Eggert, what about our beloved books? We will not likely be able to take much with us.
Eggert: Sigriður—my dearest love—please listen to me. There is no future here. None. We have tried our best and this land has nothing left to give us but death. I am not young but I promise you, my darling, that I will work hard and I will protect you and the children. The older ones will be able to decide for themselves. A whole new life awaits us. You did promise at our marriage that you would obey me. But what I want is for you to want to go as much as I do. I know I am right about this. This is our future. You must say yes.
Sigriður: (The beginnings of resignation coming on her face) Well, we’ve done everything together. I tell you, Eggert, my heart will break, I will never see my home again. Our relatives who do not go will be lost to us. But one thing I can see is that you are not changing your mind. I know how much you love me, but I know you are a powerful Viking and you have set your mind to this. When do you think we might be going? In the Spring?