CHRISTMAS GOATS ON BRINGSJORD

YULE BUCKS (CHRISTMAS GOATS) ON BRINGSJORD

by Finn Bringsjord

Illustration: Finn Bringsjord

It was pretty scary to go Yule bucks in our boyhood. On the fourth day of Christmas was the top or bottom of a shoebox cut to mask with holes for eyes and mouth. Then we had to find the new crayons - when one has seven older siblings, was a guaranteed that every year lay a couple of boxes with squares of crayons under the Christmas tree - and then color the mask so terrifying as possible.

Then we mixed a paste of flour and water and glued flock and colorful yarn leftovers. The masks, which were fastened with elastic around behind your head, could be quite so creepy.

Late afternoon was big brown paper bags found forward and masks sat on under the red Santa hats, and so we trudged away down the Western Garden. We liked best to start up about just after dusk, and it came early during Christmas.

In front of the houses there were some streaks of light from the windows; otherwise it was dark and scary. The snow crunched under your boots, and here and there barked a farm dog.

Luckily we had sister Tordis with and it was a comfort when we hit other Yule bucks-perverts who could suddenly fall out of the darkness and screamed and jingle with sheep bells.

There were some houses we just walked right past. It was such house with German Sheepdog, and house which was inhabited by single men. Exceptions to this rule were obviously uncle Anton. There we admittedly never cookies, but he took out a round "Christmas cake" from a bakery with raisins and Candied fruits, which he cut three slices, and let the butter and a generous layer of orange marmalade.

This "finger food" was too sticky to end up in the brown bags and had to be eaten on the spot. Marmalade tasted divine, for such we never got at home where our mother made sure we kept ourselves to home pickled gooseberries. The problem was that it was quite impossible to eat Christmas cake with marmalade through the narrow mouth of the hole in the mask, so it had to be turned back on one’s neck. How did Uncle a big surprise every year now he saw that the gruesome Christmas goats were twins of sister Lina.

Soon we became quite highly geared and trudged boldly around from house to house; went to the hall door and knocked on until someone came and opened up. So we started with Harmony Duet of Margrethe Munthe's Christmas song, "In the barn sits Santa Claus with his Christmas porridge."

How beautiful this sounding is somewhat uncertain. Generally we do not come so far out in the first verse before the household began to “oie” and sigh and wonder who these two Christmas bucks could be, if we came from afar; perhaps from Møskeland or Skrumoen?

But we were not so good at talking with the Yule goat voice, and handed tacit over the brown bags so we without too much frills got made known what mission we were in. 

Only one place was this gesture misunderstood by house kids who instantly started partake of our bags. Oh dammit! But it was fortunately only a single exception, and the bags were eventually filled with cookies, nuts and assorted other goodies.

One place was the residents seemingly absent, yet so much we knocked and knocked at the doors. It was with two older sisters who some pranksters called "cluck hens" They had undergone a revival after the war years when blending curtains were thrown on the dump, and well known to patrol outside the windows of neighbors in time after dusk, when the light was turned on.

We knew they had plenty of cookies, for already the end of November they went around and bragged that they had finished the seven cultivars and that goro and donut would soon apply.

But the fourth day of Christmas light was extinguished in the living room and hear plugs put in. No matter how much we knocked on doors, and singing cheerfully in unison about Santa's barn porridge, nobody heard us.

Luckily our villainous sister came to help. She had been out a winter day before and knew the infernal sound of cork rubbing on window glass caused people to wake up. Coincidentally, she had some bottle corks lying in her pocket as she distributed between us. Then we climbed up a few cypress trees and brought us to rub and rub on the living room windows. Then there was a racket in the living room and the light came on and we sang for full jugs while goro and donuts were distributed in our brown paper bags.

Back home it was always a discussion about how much goodies sister Tordis deserved, and it always ended with that she got a lot more than what one might expect. 

YULE-BUCK TRADITION

Norwegian Christmas stamps 1991. Photo: Finn Bringsjord

The tradition of going Yule-bucks goes back to medieval times. Youths from smallholdings and impoverished mountain farm, went down to the main farms in the village to get a taste of big farmers Christmas food and Christmas beers. 
One reason why the bar mask was enough that it was associated with some shame to go on such a beggar process, and they tried to make it into something else with performance of dance and merrymaking.

In Christmas time it was okay for big farmers that his own crofters sons and daughters got part in big farm goodies, but kids to other farmers crofters should be able to settle for less. This was probably the other reason that "goat-bucks" dressed up and bar mask. Everyone should be treated equally. Yes, often swapped boys and girls clothes among themselves, and "whimpered" feigned " Youle gout voises" not to be recognized.

In this way they were able to go from one farm to the other, and all of the party were equally well received everywhere. Christmas beer had to be drunk on the spot, but other Christmas foods such as pastries etc. could participants take home and share with their parents and siblings.

Small farms and poor people were not visited by Christmas Goats. Yes, some larger farms could bucks also evading. It was a subtle way to announce that previous experience suggested that the farmer was a close-fisted miser. To be hanged out like that was a shame, because at Christmas should the farmer be generous and proud to pay their "village tax".

During the occupation disappeared tradition that half-grown youngsters donned mask and went Yule buck, and post-war years took the kids up the tradition and it became part of the Christmas fun.

This story was printed in the newspaper "Lister" on Thursday, 29 December 2016

GRANDMA´S CHRISTMAS FEAST

GRANDMA´S CHRISTMAS FEAST

by Finn Bringsjord

Illustrated by Finn Bringsjord

Every 3rd day of Christmas, in the evening, held grandmother Christmas party for family and served all sorts of goodies such as bluish cultivar blackberry juice and wafer biscuits filled with raspberry cream. This was the night when the grandmother right beat the big drum; emptied the coffee pot for old grut and served freshly ground coffee to all adult guests.
Large and small enjoyed themselves while with the good stuff, and it lasted a long time before eating ended and the table could be cleaned and made ready for the evening's highlight; CHRISTMAS BINGO!

And now I know about that yourself thinking: Playing bingo in Christmas celebration is "Harry" (uncultivated and silly) and totally inappropriate at the home of one of the founders of "China mission Woman Association in Aa parish." But such thoughts about bingo did not exist in the whole of Norway at the time. This was years after the war and grandmother's game was one of the first bingo games in Norway. Aunt Lydia had taken the game with her from Chicago where the master and millionaire fit occasions socialized with employees playing bingo.

As you see there was genuine US bingo at Bringsjord. Great stuff ... The numbers went from 1- 75, and they emerged with the petition rising reeled on a nickel-plated device that could resemble a smaller version of the blank cash register at stores . All were given one bingo card, and chips (or corn) to lay over the number that was called out - if it existed on board. Bingo prize was caramels, small chocolates etc. purchased at the general store in "Hansefrøknene" in Nygård, or other small parts from the america package that year.

For the adults was not winning the most important; but to get confirmation that the goddess of fate smiled at them. But we kids did not think so, and grandmother kept wisely by any "prizes" to children and schoolgirls who never achieved to get a full number "bingo-line" on the board.

After bingo was light in kerosene lamps subdued and match-box has found, for now would the seven small candles on the Christmas tree igniting matchstick lights of fumbling schoolgirls while others sing the verse:

When mother igniting all candles,
so no place is dark.
She says the star shone so
throughout the worlds desolate areas.

Some "walk" around the small Christmas tree on phonograph cabinet was simply not feasible, for the grandmother's "wilderness" was the two small lodges over furnished and this evening overcrowded. No, in this flickering "starlight" it was time for nuts, figs and dates and stories of the old days.

First came perhaps daring Christmas stories from the time when the church imposed each farm to brew a keg strong beer for the holidays and it was fined by bishop if so was not done. Then did you honor God the Father and neighbors by dragging around and savor brewed; "Keeping Yule."
This old-fashioned - almost heathen - Christmas celebrations did not fit for innocent children's ears, so a switched fairly quickly over the stories about psychic fortune tellers who knew little birds the song and spoken language and could locate lost animals and humans.

Wise -Todne was best known for such supernatural abilities here in Lyngdal. Yes, she was so widely known in his time that many people outside the valley called the star sign Orion for "Wise -Todnes spinning wheel".
Today everybody knows that her prediction that " Kvås waterfall shall soon be so that the salmon can go up to Lygne", has turned into. (Last year, a salmon staircase opened there).
Her prediction that "when the river overflows" King Brings bridge "(the Bank), is the world's end near", has fortunately not hit. But we may as well add "EVEN", for it is only one year since it happened...

To this big Christmas party came also Grandaunt Theodora, the youngest sister of the grandmother, and her husband Thor Krogh, reputedly the cousin of the painter Christian Krogh. Theodora told stories about "ghosts" from Tjersland, Dragland and Hægeland so we guys boys got chills down spine.

In olden times went church road from Hægeland and Dragland over the heath to Tjersland (where grandmother also had close family, "halvkusine", I think is right familial designation, when her grandfather had 13 children in two marriages; six of the first seven in the others) and further down to Skoland where they crossed over river Mosk to Bringsjord.

On a farm along this road, could overnight guests at night be waked by creak in the floorboards and slow shuffling steps across the floor. The footsteps stopped at the bed's end. So began someone - or something - to pull the covers, first slowly, slowly ... But if the guest grabbed the covers and held back, it could be a powerful tug.

A red-eyed and sleepless overnight guest from Bjerkreim, told his household the next morning that the pull on the covers were so strong that he just by taking heels against beds end managed to hold it back in bed. Trollskapen disappeared first from the room when he was seated upstairs covers, and with outstretched, clasped hands got power to loudly recite "Our Father" from end to end.

Best I remember the story of a guest bed at Grandma's elder sister, Amalie on Hægeland. Out of the night could bed begin to breathe, yes, gradually the asthmatic breathing be so enervating that no one could sleep in the bed, although one was never so tired. And two time in the morning had it been commerce as guest had not ventured down to night pot under the bed.
One sent emissary, who would hold revival meetings at Old Ekjowe chapel, which was then moved to Draland, were kept awake all night even though he had put the Bible, opened to Matt. 6, 9 -13., under the pillow. The next morning he had suffered such serious scruples that whole revival had to be canceled.

When they a snowy Sunday after Christmas bar out bed and straw mattress in a snowdrift, and set fire to the entire unit, exploded in a pitch-black cloud of smoke and a pungent sulfur odor spread out across the yard, and it was said that even cow Fagerros was upset in the stall and began to bleat like a goat buck.

Grandtante Theodora believed that all this was clear evidence that a "teufel" (german for demon /devil) had lain hidden in the mattress. But Thor Krogh, who had sailed on the seven seas, was skeptical. He believed that the incident did not show other than that the cavity of the straw stalks, over the years were filled with old nitrogen and released fart.

"There are plenty more between Heaven and Earth than anyone knows," said Theodora with persuasive voice, and the rest nodded tacit staring realist in floor, except Thor Krogh who pulled skewed smile and put it away: "My father said it now so; there are more things between heaven and earth than any other place".

That night we lay long awake in our room and listened for murky "breath" from the straw mattress. It had been filled with new straw de day before Christmas Eve, and it was big and soft and delicious, but one could never know, a small barn-tåifel could have followed into with the straw.
Vi only calmed us down when we heard regularly snoring away from the bed to big brother Ludvig. But somewhat later jumped up having bristling neckline when a cracked, strange voice sounded hollow out in the darkness: "Tåifel in the mattress! - Tåifel in the mattress!"

The picture shows f.l. Thor Krogh, Uncle Theodor Abrahamson of Wisconsin, grandma (Marie Abrahamsen), Theodora Krogh and Aunt Lydia Abrahamsen. Foto: Ttorhild Greipsland

This story was printet in the newspaper "Lister" on Saturday 31 December 2016.