THE MERCIFUL SAMARAI

There, behind large stone lay a canoe of the best indian brand ...

Spring 1948, was talked about many years later. It was the heavy rain we had in the first week of April, which always was highlighted and commented when we men sat around the coffee table to Uncle Anton and concerned us over dry summers, scorched cornfields and salmon that were trapped in Prest Hølen. It rained without interruption for four days and five nights and Lygna came on par with giants like the Nile and Mississippi.

The entire Cat Nes, Sandøydna and lower end at Node Nes was flooded, and the father was glad that we had neither plowed or had time to spread out fertilizer on these fields. Now we let away the expense, for flood waters carried minerals enough - so the Nile in its abundance bless Goshen.

But a major cleanup work was for the father and mother with horse and carriage, and excitement for two minor "ashlads" on search, for the river left after all kinds of domestic utensils from Snartemo and south. Yes, in Cat Nes so it almost seems that an assorted woodshed with sawhorse and cut walk a had come drifting.

The big warp did we get two days after rain nights. Then we managed, unseen by supervisory grandmother's eyes, taking us down to the river beside Navershølen. There, behind the large stone, lay a canoe of the best Indian brand. Sure enough it was flat-bottomed and home crafted, and true enough was the top board on the barbord side broken in two, but otherwise matched the good on the length of two young "deerfeet" that every weekend listening to Big Brother Louis' reading from the book "Deerfoot on Ohio» by Edward S, Ellis .

But how was it now with ownership of a canoe that was on drift and came ashore on our father’s earth? Absolutely impossible to say anything definite about stuff like that without further ado, no name of the canoe; apart from the letters SS which was painted in red on the broken plank. Best to talk to Brother Louis, who went to high school in Mandal, and came home with a regular bus every Saturday, mostly to get filled up a new Norway glass with mothers very best meatballs in gravy.

Meanwhile we carried the boat up high on riverside and hid it in a safe place behind some prickly bear berry. Grandmother, who came from the Dragon Land, called them "bjønsebær" and use the berries in their domestic production of medical elixir against the cold and flu.

The next day after school we sneaked down to the canoe and brought up the broken plank with the two red letter; SS. It could not possibly be anything wrong in repairing an old wreck? On the contrary, it was well so far from coveting his neighbor's property as one could get. Next time we had about the merciful sam- sam- samurai in Sunday school, I could imagine standing up and mentioning this as an example of a merciful samurai’s deed executed on Bringsjord nowadays.

But when we came home with the broken plank, and had searched high and low in the woodshed, wagon shed and barn, we just had to realize that there was no wood plank in the correct length and width obtainable, except one plank that was lying on the back of the barn. But it was a rot plank father last fall had replaced at the barn wall, facing the courtyard to our good neighbor Anna Kvavik.

The operation aroused some commotion and an open wound in the wall...

Sometimes the solution lies on an issue so close to stumbling, that one does not see the wall for the trees; Dad must have nailed up a fresh board of the same size on the barn wall. The next morning my father went early to run milk route and we had home-day from school and the coast was clear. Equipped with ladder, hammer and crowbar, we loosened the plank on the wall. The operation aroused some commotion and an open wound in the wall, and neighbor Anna came out to ask about what was going on. It was something we obviously were prepared for. Kjell locked up with his guileless blue eyes and told the story of the black rat in concentrates sack "kraftfórråtta"  which again had attacked father in his hand when he put the box down into the sack - before disappearing into a hole in the wall here at the back of the barn somewhere, and that we should now put the almost adults “Tiger” (cat) in plank opening so he could kill the bloodthirsty beast - once and for all.

Anna’s heart melted over two boys who had such a touching concern for their old father's worn work hands and asked us into buns and lemonade, and - as she said; "Then can you, Kjell, practice a little on the organ with the same."

Anna was the widow of bank- treasurer Conrad Kvavik and had a large organ standing at wall in the living-room, and as the son Arne had travelled over to America to buy a new shotgun to our father, since the Germans had found the old gun he had hidden behind the chimney in The Salmon Cabin, and daughter Alfhild was best friends with sister Plata and the whole day had been busy looking after me – who she still sees as her angel child - their organ was little use by other than Anna.

But such is life, daughter prefer the one, her mother the other. Anna had long belief that Kjell stood in front of a brilliant career as an organist in Lyngdal church, when he was just long enough in the legs to reach down to the two pedals that drove the blower, but after being on the neighboring Jacob house meeting, where the twins stood up in the doorway between the living rooms and sang five verses of Sara Lindell "None is so confident in danger," she was come any more in doubt.

It was quite impossible to say no to Anna’s temptations, so we hurried to stab the red-painted plank in through the skylight where Freia used to stick her head out when we unloaded hay wagon. Then we went around and put the ladder in place and while Kjell struggled to hide the red plank under some hay, I got lured forward Tiger the bold cat.

Kjell, who hated to sit on the organ bench and harp on "Hubby Noa" with a pedal-pedaling neighbor lady, succeeding finally to scrape up the right index finger so that it trickled up any blood, and he had to the mother who related one freshly washed rag over his finger and upon request, she also formed strips up around the wrist and gave him bragging because he was so granite-jawed and not shed a single tear.

Back to Annas temptations and our official justification for the gaping void in the barn wall. I first went with the forest cat Tiger into my elbow and afterwards came Kjell with raised rag-finger and a broken arm bandage, and claimed that his mother had said that such ugly wounds from nails could develop into tetanus if the hand was overworked.

Anna was given over, and realized that organ hour went whistle and suggested that we either could eat cream buns with marmalade at the garden table outside in the spring sunshine in the back yard, because, as she said; "So we can certainly see how it goes with Tigger on rat hunting." We must now keep in mind that this was before television era in Norway, and then it was usually not so much to look at for singles, older ladies, and although we, guys boys, well knew that there was no rat in the wall, uttered we praised and support for such a brilliant suggestion.

As soon as the table was covered and the heavily sugared lemonade served and Tiger had duly pat and good luck wishes, he was placed in the opening after the barn plank that was intended new gunwales on cano, and alpha cat Tiger was not to ask two times; with bulging tail strutted he boldly inward into the cavity between the planks.

A huge black-brown rat leap forward in the wall opening, grinning from ear to ear ...

Before I came to a certain extent with the other cream bowl, it was a terrible cat wailing inside the wall, and like a yellow / black stripe came a roaring animal out of the opening and disappeared in the direction yard of ours. The whole thing was so hideous that Kjell put the third bowl in the throat and Anna lost her coffee cup in the gravel. So a giant black-brown rat, showed up in the opening, grinning from ear to ear, as though she is now expecting buns and soft drinks and loud applause from the gaping spectators.

This went on losing face for the whole world. I went home in the kitchen and fished Bianca (italien: white cat), The farm queen, from her usual place under the stove. This queen was accustomed to admiring glances, preferably when she was in heat, where up to eight male cats were observed on stone fences round the farmyard. Carefully I placed her in the wall opening. She noticed immediately that the rat had been there, and began waving the outermost tip of the tail. Then she disappeared into the wall.

Shortly after came the sounds of fierce struggle and a short death scream, so there was complete silence for 10-15 seconds before Bianca slowly and with dignity progressed in wall opening with the big, fat “kraftfórråtta” in her mouth. But then also broke the celebration. While broken arm bandage fluttered in the air, bounced we up from the benches, grabbed hands and jumped into the ring and yelled and screamed:

Bianca, Bianca, rotta banka! (hammered rat flat)

Bianca, Bianca, rotta banka!

etc.

Bianca walked slowly and dignified ahead of wall opening with the big, fat rat in mouth.

The festivities in the yard to Anna Kvavik had dragged out in time. Barely had time we smuggle the red plank by grandma's house and down to the canoe before father was finished running milk route. But we did it right and put whistling and innocent on the barn bridge and dangled our legs when father and horse Freia swung into the yard.

Freia, who was sweaty and hot after the ride, was dried and groomed by father and eager boy's hands, before she was led at the stables to oats, peace and rest for the day. Then it was into the mother's delicious meat soup with onion sauce.

Father liked meat soup and ate as usual too much and had to take a strain on his room before he could bike to Neset. Meanwhile we had to work quietly with recalling ax and saw, hammer and nails. So we snuck down to the canoe by the river.

But grandmother had gotten a glimpse of us when we took us down Kjeringdølda, and a moment later she appeared forward and grabbed us in the act while we hammered and nailed on the red side plank.

Grandma was very relieved that we were not down by the Navershølen, and talked a bit about the weather, until she saw that it was a canoe we hammered on.  Then she gets ready to pass on family alarm. However, when we explained that the canoe was just drifted, and that we should only use it when we were allowed to bathe in the river, she calmed down and told that there was come america package from Aunt Lydia.

"Were there Wrigley's chewing gum in the package?", asked Kjell and cud chewing tentatively. But now she had little time, and turned to go, and the answer came floating into the air: «Yes, it gets a well to see when you've unpacked", the line was cast, and guess who bet on? But before we knocked on Grandmas door that afternoon, we carved out two spoon-shaped paddles of the broken side table. The canoe was repaired and ready for use.

Grandmother did welcome us; Opened a pack of Wrigley's and showed us glass jar with the filled chocolate pieces as she just going to put into the old corner cupboard. We did of course taste the heavenly temptations, before we were tough-gum-cowboys with our fingers easily outplayed at waist height.

Grandmothers’ horror and fear was that some of the grandchildren would drown in Navershølen. But instead of telling about Malla in Nygard and her son Abraham who drowned in Navershølen she  though it was better to paint the entire canoe in a pretty red color, and that she had almost half a painter bucket standing left from last summer when Louis had a holiday job of painting the henhouse of her bright red. This offer was too good to be rejected, and we took advantage.

The next day was Saturday and we had school holidays and were down early and knocked on the door grandmother to fetch brush and paint pail. It was not particularly early for grandmother, for coffeepot stood fragrant at the wood stove, and paint bucket stood untouched in the basement, and we were impatient and she had all the time in the world and throughout the day for herselves.

'It's best that you pick up the canoe up here on my yard, so it can lie on these margarine boxes while you paint", she pointed out the kitchen window and there stod two margarine boxes ready to use.

I almost deared giving grandma a hug, but she was not such a hug type like Alfhild so it came to nothing, but the thought of a few spring days near to filled chocolates and gum from the United States, got us promptly to jump in long boots, and less than fifteen minutes later was the canoe in place of margarine boxes, and grandmother came finally out to inspect the craft and nodded approvingly.

Although she had growing up on Dragon Land, she had after all been married to a sailor for 11 years before he sank off Haiti and had therefore entitled to respect for her knowledge of boats. Appreciative mention of the craft was invaluable, and we immediately started with paint.

Later in the day we helped father to sweep the yard with a couple longhandled costs of birch twigs, for it was Saturday and Thorhild and Ludvig (Louis) came home from Mandal and we looked us all maternal coveted rice porridge which on Saturday evening was served after hearing the Children's Hour on radio.

"Listen Ludvig," hinted we as soon as we had big brother on three mens hand "it's something we're contemplating; what does the letters SS mean on a boat? ", the student enjoyed that little brothers came to him with its intellectual challenges, "S / S - it is an international abbreviation for Sailing Ship. For example was the name of grandfather's ship "S / S Gemma." Sailing ships are always rigged with at least one mast. "

Kjell and I exchanged knowing glances, "What can it mean if someone has written SS on a canoe?" He shook his head: "A canoe is not the ship and it has not sail. The twits who write such a thing could never in his life have been near the ocean. "We were very satisfied with the wise answers and thought that the canoe had driven down the river from "Tinget" in Eiken or come floating from the Heck Hill for that matter.

Later that night, as we lay in bed, good and satisfied and stuffed with rice pudding, read our brother an exciting chapter from "Deerfooth on Ohio" where heroes paddled in canoes under leafed trees that stuck its branches out over river Ohio's shores, and after that, while we discussed the right statement of "ugh, ugh," also came Thorhild in to say goodnight and to give us our weekly 4-clover chocolate; a "surprise" that we kept secret for Laila and Tordis and therefore were ridden and consumed pr. promptly. Life had its bright moments in the late 40s.

On Monday we gave the canoe the second coat with red paint, and the day after we were ready for putting the boat on the water and grandmother joined to be godmother with a bottle "bjønsebærsaft" (blackberry juice). Grandmother wishes her luck on all water and baptized her "Gemma" which was the name of the ship grandfather shipwrecked with. But I had misunderstood the name and had painted P / K "Gamla" (old women) on the canoe with black bicycle paint. Fortunately grandmother had not glasses with her side and the canoe had dried up in the sun a week, leaked like a sieve, but we managed to drink a sip juice before he sock.

I had misunderstood the name and painted P / K "Old Woman" on the canoe ...

In the first lesson on Thursday told "Miss" (Ingebjørg Grosås) about giant deluge and Noah's Ark drifting ashore on Ararat Mountain as soon as the water began to subside.

Very many of the pupils then raised his hand and told her about issues and things that had drifted ashore under the great flood some weeks earlier and Målfrid Stålesen took the cake when she told that a drowned dog was driven ashore on Bergsaker.

I let me not impressed by such small things, and told spacious for a canoe that had come from Eiken and stranded in Navershølen. Stale Stålesen, the buddy who sat on the desk in front of us began to get restless and move about and waving his hand, but I had the word and was by no means finished:

"We believe the canoe can be made of a guy up on Heck Hill, for the dimwitted owner had painted SS on it, and all in Lyngdal know that a canoe is not a" Sail Ship”,  I said, hoisted on shoulders and smiled overbearing of such a fundamental lack of general knowledge. "And so were the ...»

But then it was too much for my friend on the bench in front of, and completely out of turn he interrupted quite so loudly, "It is my canoe! IT IS MY CANOE! "Then he calmed down a bit and continued breathlessly:" The flood took my canoe as grandfather and I have made, I had it down by Presthølen, we had painted SS on it; S for Ståle and S for Stålesen. They are stealing my canoe! "

Ståle was a dab hand at the accordion, and his father had a garage in the T-junction at Presthøl Bridge where they had built a house on the hill between Salmon cabin and auto repair shop. Grandfather name was also Ståle Stålesen and lived in Vestigarden, where he was a farmer and hunter and skilled foreman in Road Administration.

"Ståle, now you need to calm down," said Miss. "You three boys get to talk at recess, and then we'll hear what you agree on." But Kjell was ambulatory as gentleman and took such armband, raised his hand and said: "There is not much to talk about; Ståle get back the canoe." This was well spoken, and provoked scattered applause among girls from Alleen.

But I could not quite steer me down and exclaimed a trace in my voice: "Yes, yes; he just get the whole canoe, but it is at least the last time I will be merciful samarai. " Now was Misses Grosås interest woken seriously: "What are you saying, Finn, merciful ... ehe, Samaritan?"

My answer came somewhat disjointed, but in summary it was something like: "Yes, here we find a canoe, lying bruised and shattered in the riverside. We do not go past, but takes it up and groom nicely with it, to tear down plank from father's barn wall against Anna to give the boat new, beautifully gunwales on barbord side - we leave it in peace and quiet to dry in the sun in front of the chicken coop - and so we paint the bright scarlet with grandma's finest chickens paint, not just one - but two coats! And what is the thanks we get for that we and grandmother caring nicely with a lost wrecks in riverside? "

Given out with my hands in a questioning motion against my colleagues in the classroom I asked: "Deserves we “thank you guys” - or we deserve suspicion of petty robbery and theft?"

 All the girls from Alleen that had gone on Gustava Bringsjords Sunday School, exclaimed quite in unison: "Thank you, of course!"

Then turned Ståle and looked at us before he stretched out his hand and said with a big grave seriousness: "I thank the grandmother and both Samarai."

After school we went to grandma to announce the sad development but even though she was terribly upset, she took it like a man.

So she opened corner cupboard and took out a blue stem bowl with piece of sugar and a half-empty glass with American filled chocolates, before she sat down with the rocking chair until the coffee table, poured some coffee over at the bowl and pushed it over to us. We dipped sugar cubes in bowl and sucked and smacked his lips and so zest for life, for my father had promised at the dinner table that he would build a kind of "boatcanoe" that we "deerfeet" could paddle with under leafed trees in Ingri Tjønna.