Hope

    Just off the coast of southern Iceland is the archipelago of Vestmannaeyjar, which, as far as I can tell is pronounced “Vestmannaeyjar”! Of the 16 “islands” that make up this archipelago (ranging from just a few acres to 5.2 square miles in size), only one is inhabited. That would be the isle of Heimaey, which is the largest. Heimaey has a population of around 4,400 people and for the most part is an old and tired fishing village, not unlike many towns in coastal Maine where my grandfather used to preach…and this, my dear reader, is where we lay our scene. 

    Our protagonists are two teens named Birta and Selma. Birta has the look of Erik The Red, who was known to have traversed these parts hundreds of years ago. She has the piercing eyes and the flowing red hair of her Viking forefathers, along with a countenance combined with easy laughter that Erik would have been proud of. Her friend Selma, with her blonde hair and blue eyes is, no doubt, descended from the Norse peoples who are believed to have originally settled Iceland around the 9th century. The girls have lived on Heimaey their entire lives, and like most teens they are trying to navigate the emotional maze that is adolescence and figure out what lies ahead. For now at least, along with many of their friends, one of the things they do in their spare time is traverse the misty moors from dusk until dawn as they grapple with their own sense of belonging on the island that is their home, and take part in a tradition that dates back to the introduction of electricity to the region in the early 20th century. And this tradition will lead them to a meditation, whether they know it or not, on the precarious nature of home, not only for themselves but for young Puffins, the Pufflings, on this small idiosyncratic slice of earth.

    Puffins are a species of bird that lives both in the North Atlantic, and North Pacific Oceans. They remind me of Toucan Sam, of Froot Loops fame, but with shorter beaks. Their young are called Pufflings. They eat by diving into the water for food, which for our purposes is off the coast of Iceland. Brita tells us that, "Now, during the summer months the Pufflings are leaving their parents, much like us who eventually have to move out, too." That was one of the first things that struck me in listening to these young people in this far away and strange land. There was an "old-soul" quality to them. It was intriguing and at the same time...comforting. More about that anon.

    Don't get me wrong; Brita, Selma, and the rest of their gang are teenagers (mostly girls) through and through! Their fingernail talk is no different than what you might hear at the local mall in your American suburb. "Well, what kind of nails are those?" "Acrylic." "Oh, I can't believe they broke on you! They're for shit!" Kids...!

    But in the very next sentences, Brita narrates for us that she and her friends are doing something that has been going on for decades. You see, the Pufflings, when they learn how to fly and realize it's time to leave the nest, sometimes get confused by the lights on the isle of Heimaey and they mistake the island for the ocean. This often leads the little Pufflings to land/crash on the island. And this is where Brita, Selma, and the rest of their cohorts come in. Selma says that, "We do this because it's a tradition here. We're helping them to go home."

    As dusk makes its way into dawn on this ancient island, Brita and Selma, starting around 3:00 am, pack up a car with boxes and head out into the darkness. They spend most of the early morning hugging the rocky coastline looking for these tiny, winged creatures. Mind you, it's pitch dark but somehow these kids see movement in the tall grass, or out of the corner of their eyes catch sight of a Puffling dashing across the road. It really is amazing. If I had their eyesight I'd never lose a golf ball! As the morning crawls toward sunrise they head inland where they check out various hiding spots the Pufflings have claimed. Maybe it's the roof of a one-story, industrial shed-like building; or better yet, the back of an abandoned pick-up truck that's become a shelter for a frightened Puffling. 

    Once they find a lost one, they gently carry and put the feathered creatures in separate boxes to take home and to weigh. It seems the kids keep statistics on the Pufflings for the local researchers. So as the sun starts to rise, it's time to head home. School and/or jobs wait for many of these kids, including our own Brita and Selma. But after they weigh them, there is one last task. After the weighing and on their way to work or school, they drive to the coast. High above the churning and frigid sea, and seemingly right next to the steel-gray sky, the girls take the Pufflings out of their boxes. And as they stand at the precipice of this stunning vista, with the rest of the archipelago looming in front of them like prehistoric chess pieces that have been reshaped by some drunken sailor, the girls take the Pufflings and carefully but firmly toss them from the top of the cliffs and into the firmament, hoping against hope they find their way home. 

    As they head home to begin the rest of their day, Brita tells us she would love to spend her life here, raising a family. She loves the island and the simplicity it offers. She's wise enough to know that it might not be possible as jobs are hard to find. But she hopes. Selma, on the other hand, wants to find a career/life away from Iceland. She would like to become a doctor. But like most young people looking for drastic change, she fears that a wall of sorts might stop her. "What do I do then? I'll be lost." Yep, they're just like the rest of us. "But I have no idea what the future holds," she continues. "I just want to see things unravel, and hopefully they will unravel in my favor." Old souls, indeed. I love these kids.

    I was asked why I titled this piece..."Hope". My response was that I found hope when I read about these kids...forgive me...these young women. With all the idiocy that has found its way to American college campuses, my heart melted when I read about Brita and Selma and what they were doing and how they were approaching life. No easy task in that part of the world. They're not embracing death, genocide, political overthrow, etc. They are finding their place in the world while navigating their futures. At the same time they are helping the Pufflings find their place in the world and helping them to navigate their way home. Friður og langt líf (Icelandic for "Peace and Long Life").

write to Peter: magtour@icloud.com