THIS WOMAN’S LIFE

THE STORY OF A SPONGE HOUSE AND ITS ATTACHED CHAIN OF HUMAN HAIR.

THE SPONGE HOUSE WHICH WOMEN IN MY FAMILY HAVE INHERITED IN A UNBROKEN LINE FROM MY GREAT-GREAT-GRANDMOTHER UNTIL IT CAME INTO MY POSSESSION. WITH IT ALSO CAME THE STORIES OF THE WOMEN THAT HAD ONCE OWNED IT.

All too often, traditional sources have, at best, neglected women’s lives. Far more likely however, they have simply erased them from history. This does not mean that the stories are not there; they exist, only they do so as oral literature, handed down between us, from mother, to daughter. These stories offers us the possibility of reintegrating women into history; contesting the androcentric perspectives that colors the general interpretation of past events. [1] But, they need to be shared, and so today I’ll share a story from my madteraahka, or great-great-grandmother on my tjidtjie’s [mother] side.

Or story begins with the birth of Elise Beathta Berg Edvardsdt, in the year of 1866.

Delivered on the island of Austbø, in the municipality of Alstahaug in North Norway, Elise was a woman who lived in a time when women had little autonomy, beholden as they were to the men in their lives; fathers, brothers, sons or husbands. [2] Elise’s father however, Edvard, did not believe in women being subservient to men. Father of two girls, and the son of a single and unwed Saami mother, life had instilled in him values that saw women as equal to any man, and these values he made sure to pass on to his daughters.

That being said, to be able to actively live out these values within said time, was easier said than being done. The 19th century did not have many opportunities for women. Aside from marriage or taking up service in wealthier home and on farms, the increased industry in cities meant that there was also the possibility of doing labor in factories. Still, none of these offered the independence that Elise sought. [3]

Elise was an exceptionally skilled crafts person. This was perhaps not uncommon in those days, but she had an advantage; she was especially adept with jewelry and other things made of human hair.

Jewelry made from hair has been around for centuries. Most would probably associate them with memorial pieces made to carry locks of hair from loved ones that were deceased. But jewelry made from hair was also a popular gift to ones loved ones, and in one source it is actually stated that “rings and bracelets of hair increase love”.[4] In a Sámi tradition too, hair is used as a powerful agent of protection. In knit work for instance, human hair was often added for its practical function of insulating heat, but also because it helped protect the wearer from harm. [5] And often, the hair used had been collected from the women within a family for generations.

It was this skill, and the highly popular memorial pieces of the 19th century, that allowed Elise to make her own living as an independent woman of means. [6]

One of the pieces that Elise kept for herself however, is a chain made with her own hair, as well as that of her daughters and her mother. Unlike most hairpieces from this time, Elise’s work is made from visually replicating a Saami technique, provnieldimmie, whereby two or more strands of leather is intertwined to create a whole. What is interesting about this technique is that its image has been associated with values of collectivity and Saami resilience. [7] Which, considering the contemporary perspective on the Saami people as biological lesser and primitive [8], was desperately needed. It thus makes, not only a beautiful and uniquely intricate, chain in several parts that she has attached to a silver sponge house. It also express a sense of dignity, and willingness to be Saami. Here, another layer is added to the story of Elise.

CLOSE-UP OF THE CHAIN.

Elise’s grandfather Andes, was a South Saami soujourner whose journeys brought him, for a short time, into the life of Elise’s grandmother. When he left, Elise’s grandmother was pregnant with a son. Though Andes returned briefly for his sons baptism, he left soon after, leaving his once lover and young son with nothing but memories and a silver sponge house.

For those that are unaware, a sponge house, or a vinaigrette, is a container for storing perfume, a watered down mix containing smelling salts or a mix of plants meant to protect against disease. Though such containers have been in use for centuries, it evolved somewhat during the 19th century when it became a fashionably indication of high social ranking [9]. The shape of Elise’s swamp house however, indicate a likely dating to the 18th century, which suggest that the sponge house was an heirloom even before it was passed to her through her father.

In Saami tradition, to gift the newborn child with a sjiele is a common practice. The sjiele is a very complex cultural expression. Like many Indigenous communities, a central aspect of the Sámi experience of indigeneity is the philosophy of the gift. In the past, the sjiele was a sort of sacrificial gift; given to the landscape, to spirits and to people to acknowledge society as one of relations, collectivity and reciprocity [10]. It was made of silver, brass or other types of metal, or it could be made of bone or other materials. No matter the material or shape however, a sjiele was, and still is, believed to grant its wearer protection from evil and an increased good fortune. As such, a sjiele is a common gift to give small children as it is believed it will protect the child from harm. [11]

ELISE WITH HER HUSBAND, HENRIK. ONE OF THE FEW SURVIVING IMAGES OF THEM AS A COUPLE.

Elise, by all accounts was firmly rooted in her Saami upbringing. It came as no surprise then that when she married she chose a husband that was Saami. The relevance of her husbands ethnicity might not appear at first glance. Nonetheless, there are good reasons for why she would think that marriage to a Saami man would be advantageous. Of old, Saami society regarded women and men as equals; their dynamic characterized by symmetrical and complimentary domains, roles and tasks.[12] During the colonization of of the Saami homelands however, hetero-patriarchal sentiments and gender discrimination came as part of the package. [13] The Patriarchy of the West worked to unbalance the relations of power between genders, and displace women from their positions.

Everything suggest that Henrik, raised within a Saami context himself, held women in high regard and respected them as his equals. Thus, founded on values of equality, the marriage of Elise and Henrik was by all accounts one of mutual respect, love and generosity. It was also bountiful, with no less than 8 children, the oldest of which was my great-grandmother Dagmar.

DAGMAR AS A YOUNG WOMAN WEARING THE SPONGE HOUSE AND CHAIN MADE BY HER MOTHER. LIKE HER MOTHER, DAGMAR EXCELLED WITH HER HANDS AND SHE CONTINUED ADDING TO THE CHAIN IN HER LIFETIME, AN LIKE ELISE SHE USED HER OWN AND HER DAUGHTERS HAIR.. IN THIS PICTURE, YOU SEE THE CHAIN IN A SOMEWHAT SIMPLER EDITION WHEN COMPARING IT TO ITS CURRENT SHAPE.

Dagmar it turned out, was her mothers daughter in most things. Not only was she skilled in vætnoe, she also followed in her mothers footsteps and married a Saami spouse. Her match however, was believed to be unfavorable. Unlike Henrik, who owned a large farm and Elise who had her vætnoe, Dagmar’s chosen beau, Karl Johan, was not a wealthy man, and his profession was not one of respect. As a Saami fisherman that also worked with leather, he made his living fixing peoples shoes and tanning hides. But, he too believed in the equality of man and woman, and in the end his belief in equality between genders far ought weighed his lack of financial stability.

And Elise, perhaps seeing herself in her daughter, eventually gave them her blessings and chose to give Dagmar a gift. The sponge house attached to a chain of hair. Signifying protection, good fortune and the collectivity of Saami people, the sponge house has ever since been handed down the generations, from my great-grandmother to my grandmother, until finally it was passed on to me.

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[1] Joan Sangster (1994) Telling our stories: feminist debates and the use of oral history, Women’s History Review, 3:1, 5-28

[2] Danielsen, Hilde, Erinn Larsen & Ingeborg W. Owesen (2013): Norsk likestillingshistorie 1814-2013. Bergen: Fagbokforlaget.

[3] Danielsen, Hilde, Erinn Larsen & Ingeborg W. Owesen (2013): Norsk likestillingshistorie 1814-2013. Bergen: Fagbokforlaget.

[4] Sherrow, Victoria (2006): Encyclopedia of Hair: A Cultural History. Westport: Greenwood Press.

[5] Falck, Erika Nordvall (2018): Aejlegsvaanhths. Tjaebpies feegreme vaanhtsi bïjre noerthtedajvesne. Jokkmokk: Ájtte

[6]  Wall, Josie (2015): Mourning Jewellery: Remembering the Dearly Departed. Birmingham: Birmingham Museums.

[7] Dunfjeld Aagård, Maja (1989): Symbolinnhold i Sørsamisk ornamentikk. Oslo: Statens Lærerhøgskole i forming.

[8] Gjessing, Guttorm. (1973): Norge i Sameland. Oslo Gyldendal

[9] Smith, Virginia.  (2008): Clean: A History of Personal Hygiene and Purity.  Oxford: Oxford UP, 2008.

[10] Kuokkanen, Rauna. (2007): Reshaping the University : responsibility, indigenous epistemes, and the logic of the gift. Vancouver: UBC Press

[11] Turi, Johan: (1910). Muitalus Sámiid Birra.

[12] Kuokkanen, Rauna (2019): Restructuring Relations: Indigenous Self-determination, Governance, and Gender, Oxford: Oxford University Press

Kuokkanen, Rauna (2007): Myths and realities of Sami women : a post-colonial feminist analysis for the decolonization and transformation of Sami society

[13] Kuokkanen, Rauna (2019): Restructuring Relations: Indigenous Self-determination, Governance, and Gender, Oxford: Oxford University Press

Lawrence, Bonita (2003). Gender, Race, and the Regulation of Native Identity in Canada and the United States: An Overview, Hypatia, Vol. 18. No. 2.

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