Maglehem, Sweden

Maglehem is pronounced MAH gle hem, similar to Bethlehem.

My great great grandfather Jens Monson was raised in Olseröd, Kristianstad, Sweden. Although he lived in Olseröd I visited the nearby village of Maglehem, about two kilometers south. Jens first wife Hannah Swenson descended from many generations of Maglehem residents, although she was born elsewhere. Jens and Hannah married in the U.S. but both originated in Maglehem. Because of the timing of the trip I was not able to see both Maglehem and Olseröd and had to make a choice, I chose Maglehem. Maglehem literally means Big Home. A bit facetious maybe given that it currently has 160 residents and does not appear to have ever been much larger.

Maglehem was where the Monson family worshipped, attended school, and shopped. By bus the two villages are about 45 minutes south of the metropolis of Kristianstad and are still almost exactly as they would have been 130 years ago. There are no modern houses and the businesses are gone. The area once boasted numerous breweries and distilleries. Only a couple remain today, including the Absolut Vodka distillery in Åhus, about 20 kilometers north of Maglehem.



I spent many hours planning the logistics of my trip to Maglehem since it was a bit off the main rail line. I did not know it when making my plans that the day I picked for my expedition was a national holiday, All Saints Day. I settled myself on the highspeed train at 8:00 a.m. and as the train pulled away from the station the conductor announced the destination, Göteborg in Western Sweden. I was supposed to be on the train bound for Malmö in Southern Sweden. This little mistake would cost me three hours and I was certain that my plans for the day were ruined. I am meticulous and careful and I do not get on wrong trains. How this could have happened this day of all days was beyond belief. I could not have known then that it was the best thing that could have happened.

As I stepped off the bus on the side of the highway at 4:00 p.m. just as the sun was setting and waited for the bus to pass I turned to the only other passenger to disembark at the Maglehem stop and asked, "Do you live here?" As Bergitta and I made the 15 minute walk into town together I learned that this night was a special celebration unique to this part of Sweden, called the Festival of Lights. It did not really have to do with the holiday, All Saints Day, it had just developed a few years earlier as a competition among cities in Skåne (pronounced Skona) to see who could put on the best light display.

Next thing I knew I was having dinner at Kerstin's house, Bergitta's friend. We enjoyed homemade beetroot soup, some kind of berry drink, that the two of them could not translate into English, home-baked bread, and apple crumble for dessert. Kerstin told me the history of the area and the Festival. The townspeople put candles in their windows and the roads were lined with candles creating a beautiful spectacle. The most amazing thing though was the church was open and candlelit. I could not have asked for a more amazing experience. Kerstin told me the church is normally only open for Sunday services and if I had been there on any other Saturday of the year it would have been locked up and dark. I was able to touch the twelfth century baptismal font where many of my ancestors were baptized. I sat in the pews where they would have sat for Sunday services. The church was built in 1300 and last altered in 1640. It would have been largely as it had been when the family left Sweden in 1875.

If I had arrived in Maglehem three hours earlier I would have never known that a celebration was happening that night. I would have walked into town alone, photographed the locked church from the outside, and got back on the bus without knowing I had missed anything. There was no indication that a celebration was going to happen once darkness fell. After dark every resident in the town was out on the streets. On the walk into Maglehem from the bus at sunset we did not pass a single soul. I have to believe there was some sort of divine intervention keeping me from my carefully planned agenda.

As Kerstin, Bergitta and I walked over every inch of the village Kerstin relayed the history of nearly every building, she told me about the thatched roofs and how it is done in Sweden with crossed wooden beams holding down the thatch at the peak. She told me how important eels are in this part of the country and that most villages have an eel hut, a thatch roofed building dug down into the ground so that as you enter you step down below the soil line. Every year there are huge eel harvesting parties. For days the residents, mostly male, use handmade nets to harvest hundreds of eels. The community uses the eel huts to process the eels, eat heartily, and drink heavily until the eel season is over. I felt like I saw nearly every building in Maglehem including the school building which was used from 1846-1916. This is where the Monson children most likely would have attended school.



After walking from one end of the village to the other the three of us ended up at the firehouse where a band was playing traditional Swedish folk songs and there were Swedish hotdogs which I am told are an essential part of any Swedish celebration. We returned to Kerstin's house where we warmed up a bit before Bergitta and I caught the bus back to Kristianstad. Upon my return to the U.S. Kerstin sent me photos she had taken in Olseröd. Pictured are the beach front at Olseröd, a traditional Swedish house near Olseröd beach, and the thatched building is an eel hut with the tall posts used for the nets.





All the nighttime photos were taken with no flash and I have no idea how they turned out so bright. For example, I had no idea there was a painting above the altar in the church. It was dark enough that I could not see it. I was surprised to see it when I viewed the photos. I will be forever grateful to my generous hosts Kerstin Dahlberg and Bergitta.