Inspired by the hobgoblins of Nordic legend

Trends come and go. And this year one of them has been Gonks, whose story starts in the festive lore of Scandinavia. Alix Norman learns more

Christmas is weird. We prop dead trees in our windows. We hope a home intruder will hop down our chimney. Occasionally we subject our neighbours to non-consensual singing. And don’t even start on stockings… Why we decorate our mantelpieces with what is technically ladies’ lingerie is something you’d have a hard time explaining in a court of law.

But then many of our Christmas traditions make little sense – even when you know the story behind them. Neither do the annual trends which, in 2021, include sustainable decor (recycled ornaments atop a tree you’ve been complicit in killing), mistletoe on everything (an invitation to #MeToo, should you steal an unsanctioned kiss!) and shell-and-starfish baubles (as if our sinking seas weren’t already enough of a concern!). Oh, and gonks. Gonks are huge in 2021 – the stand-out item of the season…

IKEA has dedicated serious floor space to the little creatures this year. Jumbo has an entire aisle of them. Even the smaller shops (Philippides, Tiger) have jumped on the bandwagon. Gonks are everywhere – soon in your own home, if retail pressure comes to bear. But what exactly is this oddly-named little creature, and where does it come from?

Not to be confused with the novelty collectible of the 1960s (although there’s a similar origin), nor with Kiwi slang for a nap (‘I’m off for a quick gonk’), or even with a john (in some circles, a prostitute’s client is known as a gonk), these stout little fellows with their furry bodies and bushy beards hail from Scandinavia. Like festive trees from Germany, the yule log from France, and furoshiki (fabric gift wrap) from Japan, gonks are an appropriated Christmas trend, inspired by the hobgoblins of Nordic legend…

The first mention of gonks (known as nisse in Denmark and Norway, tomte or tomtar in Sweden, and tonttu in Finland) dates back to 17^th-century Norway, although some reports suggest they appear as early as the 1200s. Modelled on what we might think of as a troll or a gnome, and sharing their mischievous characteristics, they’re both naughty and nice in nature.

In Nordic lore, these short, bearded creatures (usually clad in a conical knit cap) were affiliated with rural life, where they made their homes on farmsteads. If they took a liking to the family with whom they chose to dwell, luck would follow: the gonks would protect people, land and livestock with their fairy-like magic, aiding with chores and bringing good fortune

“But should the family disrespect the gonk’s home,” says Swedish-born Nicosia resident Lena Jamieson, “these tomtar could turn nasty, playing tricks on their hosts and creating uncountable miseries: switching the noses and tails on your pigs!

“Long before Father Christmas came along, the tomtar were associated with the winter celebrations,” she continues. “You’d put out rice porridge, a traditional treat, as a way to thank your tomtar. And if you’d been especially good to your livestock that year, the tomtar would knock on your door at Christmas, and bring you a present.

“The tomtar is very, very old Scandinavian lore,” Lena reveals. “We have a long tradition in Sweden of believing in the little people, much as they do in Ireland and Scotland: spirits were everywhere in the woods; you had to respect them. Like a lot of the ancient legends,” she explains, “it was all about making sure you were a good person, that you took care of your family and your home.”

Today, gonks – as they’re known in English – remain a huge part of Scandinavian festivities. “As a child, we’d make little tomtar before Christmas, and display them around the home. And though I’ve never seen one myself,” Lena acknowledges, “I have friends who swear up and down that they’ve actually seen a tomtar on their farms!”

Part protector, part rascal, tradition dictates that the gonk is a charming little fellow with a rather short fuse. But generally, where a gonk goes, luck follows; you’re fortunate if you can attract a gonk to your home!

It’s a theme that’s paralleled in any number of countries’ Christmas traditions. In the US, we get the Elf on the Shelf: one of Santa’s little helpers, who moves from place to place around the home causing overnight mischief and mayhem.

And in Cyprus (and across the region, from Bulgaria to Bosnia), we get the kallikantzaros, a similarly rascally character. Believed to dwell underground, these roguish sprites (often described as black and hairy humanoids, with hanging tongues, long tails, and a terrible odour!) are said to come to the surface between December 25 to January 6, during which time they wreak havoc…

But, unlike the gonk-inspired myths, kallikantzaroi are defeatable. These little creatures of the Christmas night can be vanquished with a colander on the doorstep (unable to count beyond two, they’ll spend all night enumerating the colander’s holes, only to disappear at dawn); with a pair of stinky shoes (thrown into the fireplace to prevent ingress); and with loukoumades – tossed onto the roof, these honey balls are fodder for the kallikantzaroi, who gobble them up and disappear back to the netherworld!

Christmas, as we said, is weird! And with a plethora of gonks added to the mix, it’s getting weirder by the year. Visit a friend’s home this December, and you’ll likely see these strange little gnomes on wreaths, trees, shelves and tables. They’re a favourite with children, with lovers of kitsch (the festive version of a clown-filled downstairs loo), and with the style-impaired. But, when you know the legend behind them, they’re also quite fun and not as odd as first they seem.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to toss a few honey balls on the roof en route to purchasing my very own gonk. I do like to think of myself as fairly chic when it comes to my Christmas décor (understated organic, with a splash of silver does me fine). But after the year we’ve just had, there’s no sense in tempting fate! Or the gonks!