Sometime in the final decade of the last century I traveled with some friends of mine to a small village, Gjögur, in the northern part of Strandasyssel in the Western Fjords of Iceland. The summer weather was beautiful, the bay of Húnaflói, outside Gjögur, was filled with ice, and driftwood was scattered along the coast. I had just returned to Iceland after a decade in the USA, and this journey made a strong impression on me; I was filled with a sense of optimism about my country's possibilities, but at the same time I felt anxious about our future. In this rugged landscape the land is mostly barren and it struck me that people who could survive under such conditions should be able to thrive no matter what. Yet, as any foreign tourist would immediately recognize, there are few people left in these areas, and more and more settlements are being abandoned. This is a cause for great concern to everyone who cares about the well-being of such sparsely populated rural areas and of the country as a whole.
Later I was to travel back and forth in Strandir in the company of wise men. They made no organized surveys of the area, but recorded their activities and thoughts in great detail throughout a century. Thus I could enjoy a long journey in their company; I could even stay at their farm, Tindur, in the Kirkjubólshreppur parish, on a quiet winter night in the second half of the nineteenth century. The diaries and other writings of the brothers Halldór and Níels Jónsson from Tindur gave me the opportunity to get to know Strandasyssel a lot better than during my first visit. Now I joined them on the heath or running between villages: “ Kristján í Tunga stopped by on his way south to Kveingrjót and Nilli followed him out to the cliff edge and he counted his steps on the way back and they were 14585. Gvendur í Sel came by today heading south and Dad joined him and went to Húsavík. Leifi returned at 7.30 PM and stayed for 12 hours and 25 minutes. Nilli left at 11.30 AM, returned at 6 PM. Dad brought the latest Ísafold (paper).“
In the company of my timeless friends I have not only acquired insights into the social conditions in the nineteenth century, but also gained a better understanding of what opportunities the rural areas might have in the future. I think the history of the Icelandic people, including common men like Haldi and Nilli, can teach us how to meet our future challenges, what role the provincial culture will play in shaping future ideas and cosmopolitan notions of our restless race. Like every generation, the two brothers faced fundamental questions, and like their ancestors, they succeeded in carrying the reponsibility associated with being Icelandic. Instead of packing up and leaving, they braced themselves and rode the storm. Their history shows us how we can be proactive and look forward to new achievements. This is the starting point of my books and the reason why I find ideas and inspiration in people who lived lives very different from how we live today, in the hope that they will influence my readers the same way the writings of the two brothers have influenced me.
Provincial culture is filled with stories of people who made it through hard times. These individuals helped shape the following generations – the people of the twentieth century – the generations that will be most influential in shaping the society of the twenty-first century.
The world should learn from their stories and from their experiences!