On clothophilia

A little over a year ago, I fancily wrote on this blog that I had a bit of an April resolution: I would not buy any clothes for the duration of the next twelve months. Twelve months later, it would have been natural for me to look back and evaluate the experience, but I hesitated in doing so. The reason? I failed. In fact, I failed so thoroughly that it is questionable whether one can say I even tried.

Making a goal like that in April last year was an easy thing to do. Follow up on it needen't have been so difficult, but for several reasons it was. The most important being the one I stated already in the original resolution post: I might forget about the whole thing. Which is true - I did forget, and the few occasions I've remembered afterwards have never been when I was about to swipe my card at a clothes shop.

In addition, though, a lot of things happened after I wrote that post. First of all, my return to Japan. The idea of limiting my clothes purchases in a situation like I was in while still in Norway - no direction in life, no plans, and no idea what the future might bring as the 3/11 earthquake had effectively shifted everything around for me - was simple enough; possibly this might even be a direction or a goal that could bring back some sense in what I at the moment felt was more existence than life.

Not long after this, though, I did go back to Tokyo. And I found that other things (readjusting to my life in Japan, making new friends, coping with continued aftershocks and the ongoing nuclear scare, workworkWORK) became a lot more consuming than a feeble attempt at limiting my own shopping spree. Furthermore, limiting my clothes purchases while still in Japan made very little sense as I practically didn't buy anything there at all. Being a tall and large Western woman effectively made it unrealistic to find much in terms of clothes and shoes in Tokyo. When I did find certain items that fit, however, a (forgotten) vow from a (seemingly) distant past wasn't going to keep me from finally buying something. Similarly, I went on a real shopping spree the second I got back on European soil - on my layover at the airport in Copenhagen, actually - out of pure joy that I finally could find clothes that fit me again. The thought that finding that sort of joy in material things was perhaps not entirely healthy was not at all on my mind.

In addition to my mind being occupied elsewhere being part of the problem, my body was also contributing to my shopping mania. Call it a welcome side effect of the stress the past year offered, call it a result of life style changes, believe that I am lying when I say I haven't been doing that much for this - I've lost a considerable amount of weight since I made my resolution last year. This naturally affects how my old clothes fit (or rather, they don't). Speaking loudest, perhaps, was the fact that when I tried on my bunad (national costume - sewn to me at the age of fourteen, expected to fit for life), last worn two years ago on the Constitutional Day and then barely - it was so tight I had trouble breathing - I was swimming in fabric. It has never been this big on me, not even when it was made (again, at fourteen. I'm thinner now than I was at fourteen).

Obviously these changes in my body required changes in my wardrobe. And I found, to my great excitement, that the range of clothes I now could buy was much, much larger than it had been before. It's been years since I realized that baggy sweaters wasn't the way to go to hide a "voluptuous" body, but still - the clothes I can wear now (and feel comfortable in) are very different from what I felt the need to capture my body in just a year ago. Also, as more sizes fit I have the luxury of shopping in a wider variety of shops. Add to this, I've also discovered a latent interest in fashion an style, fueled by reading more fashion magazines, and the luring claws of my Pinterest "closet".

The result has been that my year of no shopping has turned into the year of more shopping than ever before. And I love it. The rush I get from trying on new outfits, finding that they fit and look good on me, is magnificent. Buying new clothes has become my new "comfort food".

Why, then, if this is such a rush, do I still toy with the idea of cutting my habit? (This being a clever word play for those of you who speak French. 'ee 'ee...)

Well, even if it might be healthier to overspend than overeat, it's still not good for me (or my wallet). I'm letting consumerism consume me. Also, there are major environmental issues at play - the environmental cost of the entire production chain from materials, through transportation and vending are considerable and worrisome. I don't have any numbers, but I suspect that by calculating the carbon print of each of my new outfits would I'd see a bleak pattern. My shopping isn't just hurting me; it's hurting the planet.

Knowing all this, however, has never hindered me before, and, frankly - even if I wish I was more environmentally conscious, I'm not. I can strive towards becoming so, but I'm never going to be one of those "move to the wilderness and live off the fat of the land"-types. I can, however, improve.

Because I've arrived back at what caused me to make the radical non-decision one year ago: I already own too much stuff. A few weeks ago I went "shopping" in my own closet at my parents' house, finding old things that either haven't fit in a while, or that was out of fashion, or maybe they just didn't suit my fancy. Trying to think creatively, however, I find that much of what I already own are completely wearable, nice, even chic stuff. Sometimes a jacket can have a whole new life with nothing else done than adding a belt. No need to go shopping when I have these kind of resources at hand!

A new resolution is coming, but this time it isn't avoiding clothes purchases altogether. Rather, I mean to keep doing that, but with an added awareness. First of all, I could definitely improve on what I buy. Ideally, the best for the environment might be not shopping at all, but by focusing on proper materials (eco cotton, anyone?) and quality products I reduce the amount of new stuff I need to buy, and I help support a more aware part of the industry.

Secondly, I could and should reduce what I already own and get rid of stuff I no longer wear. This doesn't have to mean throwing things in the bin - there is a thrift store right across the street from me, and if the items are still wearable (but for someone else than myself), I have no excuse not to give it away (as reuse is also environmentally friendly). Once an item is not wearable anymore, though, for me or anyone else, I should really throw it out. This may not be so environmentally friendly, but it will be friendly to my environment. Having a stuffed closet where you only ever wear half the things makes it cluttered and difficult to handle. I have items in my closet that's probably not been worn in fifteen years. These are typically things I should get rid off once and for all.

Finally, I clearly need to work on my own mind in all of this. Making sure I always have with me that little voice asking "do you need this? When would you wear this? Don't you already own 5 polka-dot dresses?" Sometimes this will mean bringing a friend along (and I know just which one - some of my friends have the shoppoholics just as bad as me...); sometimes it will mean being a little more responsible all on my own.

If you're interested in the environmental part of this post, by the way, I'd like to direct your attention to a very good friend of mine who has devoted her professional life to "conceptual ecology" and "slow fashion". She holds a degree in design, but she has put a very specific spin on this, by focusing on the awareness aspect of fashion. This means consciousness in everything from materials to working conditions (though frankly, I suspect she herself is working too much...), making sure that in every part of the production of her clothes (which are awesome, by the way, did I mention that? She already has designed several items for me, and is in the process of making a dress for a wedding I'm attenting this summer) no more pressure than absolutely necessary is put on the limited resources we have available on this planet. If that means researching what actually happens with silk worms, whether the sheep who provide wool have eaten only organic food, or where one can come by zippers that are as environmentally friendly as possible - she will do it.

You can find her, the magnificent Lisbeth, at Facebook, or her (awesome) website.

On Botswana

This post has nothing to do with Botswana.

I just needed a title. A working title, if you will. But if you won't, you'd be more correct, because it has effectively ceased to be a working title now that I've commented on it. Otherwise the comment wouldn't make sense. And then I'd have to change the introduction to this post. I'd be a working post.

I won't change the introduction or title of this post. Even though it has exceptionally little to do with Botswana.

It has exceptionally little to do with most things, actually. Though, "actually", it's not that hard to not discuss most things. Even if I were to discuss coffee filters, telephones, snow, sunsets, polka-dot dresses, cartoons, albatrosses, fiddlers, mid-century furniture, lollipops and single-cell animals - which I am not - the things-packed post I'd have written would still not discuss "most things". All the above mentioned things are, after all, a minority when it comes to things in general. All the things. This wasn't even a sizeable sample.

A post that has nothing to do with Botswana or most things.

It also has nothing to do with Lionel Richie. (Well, I suppose now it sort of does...)

I can see the postman. But the non-Botswana post also has nothing to do with that. Maybe I should write a post-post sometime? And then the day thereafter I can write a post post-post. Ha. Sometimes I'm too funny for my own good...

I am too [insert multiple adjectives] for my own good, actually. My mind is everywhere else than where it should be. Or... "Should" should be a matter of definition. One should have one's mind where I have mine right now, occasionally. (That sounded naughty. It isn't. Not really. The answer to the question I'm sure y'all are desperate to ask - "where??" - is not "the gutter". For once.) But one should perhaps not have one's mind there when one is trying to work. Or write posts that are or are not about Botswana.

Work. Concentration. Reading. Thinking. Planning. Planning... Hoping? Dreaming? Wanting?



Sheep.



Cookie.



Actually, here's a Botswana-related thing (out of all the things) after all. I learned yesterday that Botswana has a remarkably well-functioning economy, with the highest growth rate in the world. There. Title justified.

On Manhattan

I wish I was on Manhattan.

Not just because Norway is exceptionally cold and snowy today, and a vacation would be just what I need at the moment...

Imagine walking down the streets of Manhattan, running into Carrie and Mr. Big. Or maybe you can drop in on some old friends in "Central Perk". Or the more physical Central Park.
There is something about Manhattan - how it is portrayed in popular culture - that paints such an interesting and amazing picture (like the one above). The rest of New York has its merits too, I'm sure, but Manhattan? The home of the rich and beautiful and cool and successful? Who wouldn't dream of going there?


Why, then, did they have to ruin this picture-perfect place with taking its name for one of the biggest atrocities in human history? I am reading up on "The Manhattan Project", and I don't much like what I'm reading. Military-industrial complexes, Big Science, world politics, a quick end to an already too long war - I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that people were willing to develop and construct a weapon that spread into two separate bombs killed 150,000-250,000 - about half of them immediately, and the rest within the next few months. Not to mention the after effects from the radiation. Add to that how nuclear weapons held the world hostage during the next fifty years, and how it is still considered one of the worst threats should it fall into the wrong hands. (Or, as I'm prone to believe - all hands are wrong when it comes to nukes. The question is whether those hands will pull the trigger.)

I know. What a turn this post took. I'm complicated that way.

On land mines

Back in the day, when wars were considered something you could win, one of the techniques developed to maim as many as possible, and thus come closer to the goal - "winning" - was to dig a tunnel under your enemy's fortification and then release all hell by collapsing the tunnel. Mining. With time and technology these tunnels were collapsed by use of explosives, causing even more death and destruction. More "winning". The tactic of literally pulling the ground out from under an enemy's feet was dangerous, and efficient. For a hauntingly gruesome and beautiful description of the life of a World War One miner, I recommend Sebastian Faulks' Birdsong. It's a terrible and fantastic book, but not for the fainthearted.

Inspired by the above described techniques, another weapon was created. Land mines are explosive devices, usually triggered by weight. They are designed to damage a target, a target that doesn't necessarily have to be human, but it often is. Because, the real problem with land mines isn't the destruction they cause during wars - wars have so much destruction going on anyway, that whether you're killed by a gun, a bomb or a land mine doesn't make much of a difference. The problem with land mines is that they are often left behind long after the war ends. They can lie idle for years, completely or partially hidden, and still function as intended once that unfortunate someone steps on the trigger.

A left-behind land mine thus becomes what one fancily calls an "indiscriminate weapon" - lack of discrimination may sound nice - but when it means that it as readily kills a child as soldiers in an armed car, it is obviously not a good thing. Land mines can injure and kill civilians long after the conflict for which it was intended for ended. Around 2000 people, many of them children, are injured in land mine accidents every single month, many of them fatally.

The International Campaign to Ban Landmines (ICBL) is - as the name implies - working towards a ban of landmines. Since this coalition of non-governmental organisations (NGOs) was established in 1992, it has achieved incredible success, for instance by bringing about an international treaty (the Ottawa Treaty) to ban anti-personnel land mines - a treaty with 157 members as of today - for which the ICBL and its founder Jody Williams received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1997.

As mentioned, however, banning the current use of mines isn't sufficient. Old ones still cause destruction. Thus an important part of the work against land mines internationally is demining. One of the NGOs heavily involved in this is the Norwegian People's Aid.

Each year since 1974, the Norwegian Broadcasting Company (NRK) holds a fundraiser for a charity. It is said to be the world's largest fundraiser, in the number of participants (around 100 000 volunteer, and about half of the population contribute with money) , and in the per capita funds raised. This year, the charity of choice is the Norwegian People's Aid.

I often wish I was better at doing something for all the causes I think so much about, so this year I signed up as a volunteer. It's not much - I get to spend two hours of my life for a clearer conscience - but it is a start. In addition I'd like to take this opportunity to encourage all of you to do a little something too. If you're in Norway, it's simple. Every krone helps, so make sure to donate whatever you can spare when the doorbell rings later today. If you're not in Norway, though, there is still a lot you can do. Donations are of course also welcome from abroad, or to other charities supporting the same cause. But perhaps equally important is awareness. Is your country a party to the Ottawa Treaty? Find out - and if not - why not? Could you contact your authorities and ask? Encourage them, perhaps, to consider whether land mines is important enough in wars, to risk civilian lives for decades after peace is achieved? Sign a petition (there are plenty online)? Ask your friends to consider doing so as well? If sufficiently many of us start asking those kind of questions, there is a realistic opportunity that we can make a real difference.

It is, after all, not an unlikely possibility that by universializing the land mine ban and assuring effective demining, that we can rid the world of this atrocity altogether. This is a war we can win.

This is Norway

The past few days I have seen the worst and the best of mankind.

It started with the worst. With terrorism, hate, fear.

But it quickly turned around, into a show of strength far superior to that of one individual's hatred. It was the will of an entire people - and with us an entire world - who chose love, solidarity, democracy to battle terrorism.

"We meet terror and violence with more democracy and will continue to fight against intolerance," our Prime Minister said. And the people replied. By organizing hundreds of events in support of the victims. By speaking out in public, or by use of social platforms like Twitter and Facebook. By standing together, in rain and sunshine throughout the weekend, in Oslo and around the country (and also abroad). The sea of roses in front of one of Oslo's churches grew from a few hundred to thousands and thousands in the course of a few days. And then the rose march yesterday - taking place simultaneously in Oslo and the rest of the country. We're a small country, of only 4,6 million people. About 1 million of us were out marching with roses or candles yesterday. Even though we're not many, though, even though we're small; we're also big. Together we are more than 1 million roses, more than 4,6 million people. We're a nation coming together in a time of grief. 


Another inspiring quote that has circulated these past few days is from one of the young politicians who was at the Utøya camp on Friday: "If one man can show so much hate, imagine how much love we could show, standing together."


This is exactly what we are now doing.

Matching our solidarity and love, however, must also be what our Prime Minister called for: democracy.

According to our laws, the maximum punishment the culprit from Friday's terror actions can get is 21 years (though there is the possibility of charging him with "crimes against humanity", which might make him eligible for a total of 30 years). In addition, these are not calendar years, but "prison years". Which means that in theory, he could be out of jail after 16 years.

16 years does not seem much considering the many lives lost. 16 years does not do justice to the loss of these young lives, the dreams and hopes. But then again - what would? Prison for life? Capital punishment? Public lynching?

Of course not. Nothing will ever do this justice. The best we can do is to make sure that the terrorist's intention will not prevail. He attacked our democracy. Our democracy will fight back.

So it is important to me to answer to what I've seen of international (and national) skepticism with regards to the "mild" sentence. Yes, it is mild. 16 years in a comfortable Norwegian prison is not much. But it is what we have at hand, determined as we are to not let him win by changing us.

In addition, even if his official punishment ends at 21 years, his time locked up will not. We have a system in Norway called "forvaring" (involuntary commitment), reserved for criminals who are considered a particular danger to society. There is no doubt that he will end up there, probably for the rest of his life.

It's still not justice. But neither would changing our society and somehow find it in us to execute him. It would not help. It would not bring back those who died. And if we did, then it really would be appropriate to consider this a "loss of innocence".

I trust my country and the people ruling it. I have faith in our ability to get past this without changing for the worse. As many have pointed out - this will change Norway. But it is us - not him - who decide how.

Finally, some impressions from the rose march, which wasn't a march after all, since 200 000 people showed up in Oslo. It was simply impossible to logistically organize it, so we stayed put in front of the city hall. Here there were speeches from Prime Minister Stoltenberg, Crown Prince Haakon, the leader of the Labour Party Youth Organization, and several others. There was music, togetherness, and roses. Roses everywhere. Every few minutes someone raised their rose to the sky, and this triggered a wave of roses all over the crowd. It was stunning to see what resembled a meadow of flowers growing from the hands of the people. And it was impossible to fight back the tears when the crowd spontaneously erupted into song.

This memory will be with me for life. I can only share with you the pictures.

That is how much love we can show each other, standing together. OsLove <3


maria mena "Mitt Lille Land" by maria mena

Another before. Another after.

Oslo has been my home for seven years. I have left it, occasionally, but always returned. Yesterday, on 22/7 as it will be known in Norway for decades to come, I was back after six stressful, traumatic, amazing, life-changing months in Japan. I don't yet have a permanent place to stay, but I was visiting friends and family, keeping a tight schedule to make sure to see as many of them as possible within a few days.

I came from lunch with a friend, and had an opening in my schedule. I figured I might as well walk to the government quarter, where I had recently been called in for an interview, scheduled for next week. As I was walking around downtown Oslo, I decided to stop by a couple of shops. This may have saved my life.

About half a kilometer away from the government buildings where I was heading, I stopped to look for a CD. Suddenly the loud music in the shop was disrupted by a bang, and a pressure wave made my ears pop. Inside the shop.  People looked around, wondering what could have caused this. Some started making phone calls. I thought "construction work?", then "thunder?", then "bomb..?". But no. Not in Norway.

I made my way out on the street, where more and more people were randomly walking around like I did, looking for the source of the noise. I continued walking in the direction I had been headed, making sure that there was no smoke erupting from the Parliament or the closest subway station as I passed. People still looked distressed, but thus far nothing was very different than usual.

But then I saw the crowd. In movies you will occasionally see running crowds, usually followed by Godzilla or a UFO. In real life, it is surreal. It certainly seemed like the cue to turn the other direction.

Still I had no idea what had happened, but I realized it wasn't good. Thus I phoned a friend I was supposed to meet later on; partly to hear if she knew what was going on, partly to warn her not to come downtown. "A bomb blast near the Prime Minister's office," she informed me, incredulously, after having consulted some online newspapers. A bomb? In Oslo?

Before hanging up we decided that going to the movies as originally planned was probably not such a good idea. My instant thought was that if there had been a terrorist attack, public transportation might be affected, and chances were that downtown Oslo would be chaos. Using the metro felt like tempting fate, so I went to find a tram and then a bus instead. Leaving the city center was top priority. My mind went into survival mode, and only when I was safe aboard the tram did I notice the fear creeping up from the pit of my stomach. It felt a whole lot like the fear I felt in Japan on 3/11.

My part in the story ends here. All things considered, not so dramatic for me. I managed to get in touch with family and close friends quickly, and by intense use of Facebook the past 24 hours I've established that no one I knew well was affected. I still worry about the final death count, and the potential release of identities of victims. The bomb was scary, and it hit the political Norway incredibly hard as people working in several ministries were killed or injured, plus the infrastructural damage on site is terrible. Still, the bomb hit after office hours, and it's the middle of summer vacation. The death toll from the bomb - so far seven are confirmed - could have been far worse.

However, the horror was only starting with the bomb.

Not long after the explosion, a man wearing a police uniform arrived at a traditional, summer youth camp for Norway's main government party at the island Utøya close to Oslo. He claimed to be performing a routine check after the bombing, but in reality, this was a ploy to get inside the camp grounds. Here he started firing an automatic weapon, and allegedly continued doing so for somewhere between one and two hours. He killed at least 84 people - kids between the ages of 15 and 25 - and many more are injured. Some jumped off the island and started swimming, some didn't make it. The search for dead and survivors continues.

The horrors at that camp is unimaginable. The fact that it seems that one, single person performed both acts of violence (though this is yet unconfirmed) is unbelievable. That  this could happen in Norway at all - a country that prides itself as peace-loving, safe, free - it's near impossible for us to wrap our minds around. Even the Nazi occupation during World War Two seems a failed comparison - first of all, that was more than 60 years ago. Secondly, not even then did so many people die during one day, and under such dramatic circumstances.

Norway made international media yesterday, and in a way we could have done without. But despite the tragedy, I see signs of hope. One newspaper reported "the end of innocence", hinting strongly that Norway now would have to change its ways, and face a new, international regime where terrorism is omnipresent. That we have been naive, and that our engagement in international warfare now had backfired. The implications was, clearly, as many thought yesterday: that al Qaeda was behind the attacks.

First of all, they were not. The only person so far confirmed to be behind this is Norwegian, and a right-wing extremist. It is still unclear what his motifs were, and why he chose to target young people like that. I expect we might get some answers eventually, because unlike what one might expect, he was captured, alive. He has been arrested, and charged with acts of terrorism.

Secondly, Norway shall not and will not budge for the fear this man and people like him wanted to create. I say with our Prime Minister and several central authorities - this is not the time to change our ways. We will become even more open, democratic, and free. Norway is stronger than this. In times of crisis, we stand together, we support and help each other. And that is exactly what we now intend to do.

I am eternally glad that I have yet to see messages of hate after this. Instead, my Facebook feed is overflowing with messages of support, people updating what one can do to help (if you're a registered blood donor with type O negative, please go to Ullevål University Hospital and do your duty), and general expressions of grief and sorrow. Even though we all know the name and face of the person responsible, I have not yet seen anyone talking about lynching him as one might expect. A Facebook poll asking whether Norway should change its laws to allow death penalty for this person, has so far been answered by an overwhelming NO! In this time of crisis it feels reassuring that people are retaining their common sense. I remember being incredibly impressed by the Japanese after 3/11. Right now, I am proud to say that I am also impressed by Norwegians.

It is a day of sorrow. But in the middle of the sorrow there is reason to believe that we will be okay.

On emoticolonialism

An imprint of the flower I smelled this morning

Think back to the worst time of your life. The loss of a loved one; some big, personal failure; or a dramatic event that changed your life - and not for the better. Now, quickly, before you sink into depression, think back to the happiest time of your life. If you're a parent, it's probably the birth of your child. It might be your wedding day. Having a book published. Going on a dream vacation. Or perhaps you're one of those people who cherish the small things to such extent that your happiest moment is the flower you smelled this morning?

Either way, compare those emotions. The extreme sad/scare/rage to the extreme happy/thrilled/enthusiastic. They are powerful ends to the same emotional spectrum. If you did as I told you - picked the very worst and very happiest memories you have - these emotions most likely represent the strongest sentiments you have ever felt. It's a little frightening, actually, just how strong these feelings are.

It struck me today, how we sometimes - not too often, fortunately - are overpowered with emotions so strong that they leave a lasting memory for the rest of our lives. By mentioning the thing that triggered these emotions, we can feel a version of the same emotion, even years after. When I asked you to think back, I might have triggered intense grief you almost had forgotten you had in you, but then it is there after all, like an imprint of the original feeling. Or a tingling sensation in your stomach region, reminding you of how you really felt that first time your boyfriend kissed you.

Imagine now that instead of having an aftertaste of an emotion already felt, you had a preview. The same imprint - a mellower version of the original - but before the actual event and your reaction to it. Would you be able to bear it? If it was a happy preview - wouldn't the expectations of the real thing lessen the actual feeling? And worse - if it was a sad preview - wouldn't the premature grief weaken your ability to handle the real thing?

One of the impossible questions I have asked myself after the earthquake in Japan in March is whether I'd gone if I had known. It's an impossible question because it doesn't really matter. I didn't know, and I did go. Plus, I think the answer is given. Had I known for sure that there would be an earthquake, a tsunami, a nuclear crisis, I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere near it - even though I wasn't injured or directly affected. Still, there might have been a part of me that would still have wanted to go - not to play hero per se - but perhaps in a misguided "solidarity" with Japan? Or to prove to myself that I wasn't scared? (Which would be wrong, by the way.) Well, that part would have been convinced if I had had a "preview" of any of the emotions I've been dealing with, during and after the earthquake.

I think it is good that we don't know.




Somewhat related, I'm writing about nuclearism over at Burrowers, Books & Balderdash today. I guess the same questions is relevant there - if we had known, would we have acted differently?

On Osama

I feel like I'm the only one in the world who is not happy that Osama bin Laden has been tracked down and killed. Well, I'm not entirely alone. I'm pretty sure there are some terrorists around the world who are sad. Not al Qaeda, though, because they claim he is not dead. Duh. He's dead. There is absolutely no way Obama would risk announcing Osama's death if he wasn't sure it was true. Pending a zombie invasion, Osama is as dead as a doornail.

Then why am I not happy? Did I naively hope the US soldiers would capture bin Laden and put him on trial? Hah! No. That would never have happened. And I'm not sure I'd have wanted it to. But I think I'd liked to have lived in a world where that at least was a possibility.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not sad that Osama bin Laden is dead. He was one of this world's fanatics, so involved in his own loony cause that he observed absolutely no respect for human life. Osama's world must have been a black and white one, where most of the patches were very, very black. The things he was willing to do, and capable of making others do, are really, truly horrible. I hate - HATE - the things he did.

Despite this, I am not sure his death is a good thing. There are two reasons I am not celebrating. First, I don't like the fact that the world has come to this - celebration of someone's death, regardless of who it is. People I have the utmost respect for, Americans and non-Americans, people I usually agree with (politically and otherwise), and people I don't usually agree with - they all seem to have no problem being happy about this death. It saddens me that Osama has done that to them - created hate in them. I understand it - a part of me feel like celebrating too - but I don't like it. To me, Osama is still spreading terror by making the hate many of us felt for him blossom into celebrations at his death.

Secondly, and far more important, I don't think there is very much to celebrate. Sure, he got what was coming. Had he been captured and put on trial, he would still have been sentenced to death. Punished. Since I am no fan of torture, there isn't any sentence I could have suggested that would have been more appropriate. I am no fan of the death penalty either, but even I would have had to accept that this was the only possible solution in this particular case. Still, I'm not so sure Osama's death - one way or other - will help. Sure, the families of those who died on 9/11 and several other terror actions the last decades might feel some consolation. They deserve that. But - will this put an end to future terror actions, an end to the future grief of families? I am afraid that it will not.

The experts are in disagreement, and none seem sure. This might lead to violent responses. Retaliation is likely. The war on terror is not won yet. In a long-term perspective this could mean a more peaceful world.

I hope the latter is the case. If this - in any perspective - leads to the end of terrorism, the end of the war in Afghanistan, a more peaceful world; then I'm out there celebrating with you. If it does, I'd gladly have killed him myself. But I am not so optimistic. Osama was not alone. Until yesterday the terrorists had a leader in hiding, somewhere, in a cave (which turned out to be a mansion). Today they have a martyr killed by the enemy.

Thus I'm not so sure the world is a better place today than it was yesterday.












And yes, I am aware that you probably don't agree with me in this. As I said, it seems the entire world disagrees. Whether you think I am naive, stupid, "just not American", wrong, misguided, or even despicable/evil/terrorist-friendly; you are entitled to disagree with me. You might even be right. I just think it will be a while before we know for sure the effect this will have had, and I guess I am saving my celebration until I know if this really means a better world.

On survivor's guilt

I'm home.

It feels positively surreal. If I felt uprooted when I arrived in Japan, it was nothing compared to my departure. Within 40 hours of having decided to leave, I arrived at the airport in Norway. I feel as one of those toys in the arcade claw game machines where a metal hand pulls them up and dumps them into a slot from which they emerge on the other side of the glass as if in another world. This new world I've come into should be familiar - it is after all where I was born and grew up - but it is as though I haven't actually arrived properly, and my mind definitely hasn't shifted back to this reality.

It's funny how in all of this the people I communicate with seem to be divided into two very distinct camps: those who assume I will return to Japan as soon as I get the chance, and those who assume I most certainly will never want to do so.

The truth is, I am torn. That is, "never"  isn't really among the options I consider. I already loved Japan as it was, and the last week have only strengthened my feelings. I feel as though I packed in such a hurry that I forgot to take my heart back home.

But even if I know I one day will go back, I don't know when. Right now, there are practical issues. I have to wait for the situation to be clarified. I have to rest. I have to stay home long enough to warrant having gone at all. I have to figure out if and when my employer wants me to return, and what use I can be there then.

On top of this, however, are my own feelings. The notion that I somehow "deserted" is hard to fight. The sadness for what has happened is overwhelming - perhaps even more so when I no longer have my own security in mind. The fear for what might still happen - now only provided to me through the media (I am more than a little disgusted with some of the angles they are using) - is all-consuming. Only a very little seed of happiness to be safe, at home, with family, closer to friends, is pushing through all the gloom.

I notice that today - for the first time since Friday - I have laughed a little at other things than earthquake-related gallow humour. I caught myself "liking" a few status updates on Facebook that had absolutely nothing to do with Japan. I enjoyed walking outside today, even if I didn't enjoy the snow and cold (for someone who has had spring for weeks, Norwegian "spring" was difficult to readjust to). And I'm sure I'll gradually start to appreciate being home again.

My friend Tami has been talking about survivor's guilt, and I guess it is similar to what I am experiencing. While I don't feel "guilty" for surviving, I guess I do feel guilt - or, more accurately, shame - for having this reaction at all, when others are so much worse off. My experiences were not traumatic enough to warrant leaving, my safety was not sufficiently compromised, my hands could still have been needed to help. It isn't survivor's guilt, but rather, "abandoner's shame". Everyone - including myself - explains all the very good arguments why I have no reason to feel this way. Unfortunately, my feelings aren't inclined to listen to reason.

One of my friends suggested I let this rest for a while and allow Japan to recover from the immediate shock and start to rebuild. Then they might need me, and then I can consider returning, to look for my heart among the debris, as she put it.

Thus I have decided not to decide whether to return, at least not for a while. It depends. It depends on so many things - most of them out of my control. My primary focus is to rest, to recover, to not drown in all my mixed feelings.

On nuclear scares

Let me say this once and for all: Fukushima will not be a Chernobyl 2.

And I'm not just saying this to make you (or me) feel better. I say it based on information provided to me by Japanese authorities, and analyses of this info from specialists from several diplomatic missions in Tokyo. I learned more abour nuclear physics (chemistry?) yesterday than I ever wanted to. Let me try to put it in layman's terms, as it has been explained to me.

First of all, the Fukushima reactors do not contain burnable material. The problem in Chernobyl was that the reactor overheated, started a fire which burned for days, and the smoke from the fire spread radioactive material over vast areas. In Fukushima, no such fire is possible.

Secondly, the explosions that have occurred were scary, but not as dramatical as certain news channels (and Twitter) claimed. It was not - I repeat not - a nuclear explosion, and it did not take place in the actual reactor. During a controlled venting of the containment vessel for the reactor in Unit 1 of the Fukushima power plant, hydrogen gas leaked. This gas is explosive when in contact with oxygen. Thus when it leaked further into the operational floor of the unit, it came in contact with the air there, and exploded. This is what blew the roof off the building. Four people were injured, and some (but very little) radioactive material was released, in amounts so small that it amounts to no more than what you are exposed to during a regular x-ray. Also, the containment vessel of the reactor is intact and suffered no major damage, and there is no indication that the actual nuclear core is damaged. It does appear that the second explosion (Unit 3) was similar (and this time expected, although obviously still not wanted) to the first one, and we have received no indication that the situation is more severe as a result of the second explosion. 

Both the reactors have also been cooled down, by use of seawater. This means two things: first of all, the reactor is forever ruined, and cannot be put to further use. This is doubtlessly a tough decision to make, not only because of the value of the reactor itself, but also because the temporary termination of the nuclear power plants have created a power shortage here, and that in turn affects the reactors that depend on pumps to cool it down.

Secondly, it poses challenges because there now will be contaminated sea water that cannot be returned to the sea. Japanese authorites have confirmed they will not do that.

These are severe problems, and Japanese authorities are aware of them - but they are still not in the Chernobyl range. We have all seen disaster movies. It is easy to imagine a "worst case scenario" much more bleak than what actually is likely, or even possible. I have asked our expert all sorts of questions, ranging from what the actual (as opposed to media) worst case scenario is; how likely this is; (selfishly) whether this would affect Tokyo; and so on.

His answers have been reassuring. He does not believe an actual meltdown will happen, based on the current information we have available. It seems that the reactors have been cooled down, and they are monitoring further activity. The sea water that has been used to cool down the reactors have been infused with borom, which kills nuclear reactions. Both of these things are good news, since it decreases the likelyhood of a meltown.

Even if a meltdown were to happen, though, the effect would be much smaller than Chernobyl. At the moment the emissions we should worry the most about are probably the contaminated sea water and how it is being handled.

Because of the nuclear power plant shut-downs Japan is facing an energy crisis. We are urged to save power, and the energy company has organized "brownouts" - rotating blackouts to ration power. This is inconvenient, but again I am fortunate to be at the embassy where we have a generator so that we can keep contact with the world. For the time being, I have no plans of leaving Tokyo.



As you may have noticed, I've returned to my regular "on"-titles today. Not because I don't believe we are still very much in a state of emergency - we are - but we still have to try to move towards some sort of normalcy, or we wouldn't be able to cope. The last few days I've had very little sleep, I've been eating irregularly, and I've been under more stress than I've experienced in my lifetime. The combination is not the best; like everyone else here I am exhausted. I try to look at the Japanese. They are worried too - obviously - but they are handing this very well. They go about with their usual business if possible, and listen to authorities for advice. Training since primary school and an orderly nature helps. The only people I've seen freaking out over any of this, have been foreigners. I believe the rest of the world has much to learn from Japan when it comes to coping with crisis.

And yet. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. No, I don't believe we face nuclear meltdown. But yes, it is a grim situation. Despite my rational explanation above, I cannot pretend that I am not affected. It feels oddly like living in the aforementioned disaster movie. I feel that we by now have come to the stage where either a superhero or a rescue team of astronauts or something should arrive and save the day. I'm about ready for the end credits.

...and then after

"The quake" is a misleading term. Yesterday I said that three earthquakes hit. That was an underestimate. We've had virtually continious afterquakes ever since the 8.9 hit at 2:46 pm local time. By now we hardly care to mention it. Every now and then someone will say "is it shaking?", two others will nod solemnly, and three more will look up nonplussed, as they have gotten used to the wave-like movements. The "crisis room" at the embassy is a mess of laptops, phones, food, empty coffee cups and note pads. We have rotating lists of people sitting "on duty" a couple of hours, then going out for some air, some sleep. If we can sleep. Whether your particular worry is the terrifying images of the tsunami, the security of your family, the nuclear power plants still in danger or the queasyness from the afterquakes, it is difficult relaxing. In fact, anything but work and watching the news (which now is work) is difficult. I've been out a couple of times, checking up on my house and stocking up on food, but I feel far more comfortable at the embassy than anywhere else.

We're coping. In Tokyo there is a strong sense of "business as usual" today - except among the foreigners. This morning I observed fellow expats at the store, white-faced, stocking up on supplies. The Japanese seem calmer. Last night was more "extraordinary" as such, since public transportation was shut down all night. In order to get home from work, people started walking - many of them for hours. The amount of people out in the streets in Tokyo on a Friday night - and for once none of them drunk - was surreal. Many were wearing their earthquake helmets, oddly mismatched with their dark suits and briefcases.

It is hard to understand the magnitude of what has happened. Death counts are slowly starting to rise, but it is likely it will increase further. The risk of a "Chernobyl" as a result of the possibly compromised nuclear reactors is obviously making both us and the rest of the world frightened.

Several of my friends have asked if I need provisions sent to me. The answer is no. As mentioned, Tokyo operates as usual for all intents and purposes (the only thing missing from the store this morning was Greek yoghurt, and the store sincerely appologized for this. I somehow doubt it will be critical...).  If I am to ask, though, my request would be your continued support and thoughts (and for those so inclined, prayers). Finally - if you feel like contributing donation-wise, I'd suggest to direct your attention to the areas affected by the tsunami rather than Tokyo. We are fine, they are not.

I'm very grateful for your support, and again - I will try to update here as soon as I can.

Before the Quake

It was a beautiful, sunny day. We've had a certain feeling of spring in Tokyo lately, that indicated that I soon might start bragging about outdoors lunches and freckles to my Norwegian friends. Unfortunately, I hadn't been able to enjoy much of it, as most my days lately have been spent at the office, frantically working towards the aforementioned visit. So that was also where I was when we felt the shaking. We've had several quakes the last few weeks, but we soon realized this was bigger. Before I knew it, I was sitting under a table with a colleague - a mother - desperately trying to get in touch with her family.

Three major earthquakes, all over 7 on the Richter magnitude scale, and one reported at 8.9 (last I heard) started in the sea noth of Tokyo today. This caused a tsunami to hit the eastern shore of Honshu. Live TV footage of cars, houses - and probably people - being flushed away by the massive wave look like something from a disaster movie. One can only speculate how many are injured or killed. At the embassy we are working to locate all our nationals and to assess damage. The part closest to my heart at the moment is the local staff who are not able to go home (all public transportation is out, and walking in Tokyo is not an option, especially when millions of others are doing the same), and most of them also not able to contact their families since phones are down. We've had a few happy reunions here when kids have been picked up and brought here where we feel the most safe - which did what the terrible TV images had not yet: it brought tears to my eyes.

I am more fortunate than my Japanese colleagues, though. Our IP phones are working, and since Norway's phones are not affected, the other end is also working. With the calls, Facebook, email, and now this post, I have been able to notify my friends and family that I am okay. As one (or actually several) of my dear friends put it: "I have never been happier in my life that FB exists." Well, neither have I. In the end, what went through my head during the worst of the quakes was not concerns about my own safety, but gratefulness that I did not have family here to worry about.

We've had several afterquakes, and everyone is so distressed that it is difficult to know whether the ground is shaking or if we are. Still, at the moment I am not worried for myself, but I am scared to hear the news from other parts of the country. I will update when I get the chance.

On mizuko kuyo

 At first, it is almost a comical sight. 

The stone figures, dressed up with red hats and bibs, most of them holding colourful wind toys. The strange contrast between the hard surface of the stone, and the fabric of the hats. "Only in Japan," you think, and snap a picture of the scene. 

But then it hits you, the magnitude of these rows upon rows of sleeping stone dolls. You realize that they are not there for decoration. These figures have a function, and suddenly you suspect there is nothing comical about them at all. 

 I have seen similar - if less elaborate and fewer - statues before during my travels in Japan, and upon asking the guide I remember the vague answer "it is to help the souls of the children" or something similar. I think I took a picture of the statues then (in fact, I know, since I still have the picture), but I clearly didn't get the full explanation, or I wouldn't have forgotten.

Mizuko kuyō is a "fetus memorial service", performed monthly for (mainly) women who have had a miscarriage or abortion. 

It is a ritual surrounded by much skepticism, emotion and worry. Is it exploitation of women in an extremely vulnerable situation? After all, they pay to attend the ceremony, they buy or rent the stone figure, and certain of the dolls even have quite expensive accessories. Thus the ceremony has been criticized for being an abuse of the Japanese belief that spirits of the dead will retaliate mistreatment. The mizuko kuyō is partly intended to fend off any potential vengeance of the unborn child's spirit. But it appears that the ritual also has a number of other intentions, and that it varies from person to person what each choose to put into the ritual. Is it to comfort the grieving parents? To allow
those who are willingly performing abortions to apologize to the fetus? To help the soul transition to the next level? Or all of the above?

The ritual has been increasingly popular since the 1970s, and today both women and men participate (though the women are still in majority). It takes place at designated Buddhist temples in Japan, and the ceremony varies from place to place, though in each temple it remains relatively similar each time and many of the same participants show up each time. Not all of them have themselves lost a child - some are family members and some participate for the spirituality of the ceremony.

My initial reaction to the criticism of the ritual upon reading up on this topic was that perhaps it didn't matter if scholars thought the women were being exploited if they personally felt comforted by the ceremony. While I have no personal experience in the matter, I find it interesting to read that this reaction also seems to be the case with several Western women who has experienced loss of child and feel that there is a lack of such a ritual in their own religion and culture (one particularly moving example can be found on this blog). If dressing up a stone figure and participating in a monthly meeting helps the parents deal with their grief - or other emotions - then it should be continued.

However, recent studies show that comfort isn't the primary function of the ceremonies. The participants in one study explained that they rarely talked about their own feelings with regards to the loss - or in fact about why they chose to attend at all. The mizuko, unborn child, was not a common topic for conversation at the kuyō. It is also not necessarily immediately after the mizuko experience the women chose attend the ceremonies. Many of the study in question started attending decades after they had an abortion or miscarriage. Some of the women in question were pro-choice, some were not. Some regretted their decision, some did not. Some grieved their lost child, some did not.

Reading about the ritual didn't really make me all that much wiser. It appears to be a highly individual decision whether one decides to participate or not, and if they do participate, it seems equally individual why. In a way I guess that takes the edge off the criticism - if people don't feel forced to attend, but do so based on some personal reason or desire, it can hardly be argued that the temples are exploiting the participants.

Some of the mizuko dolls were clearly older than others.

 In the end I find it fascinating that a ritual that appears so personal, is manifested so publicly and visibly. Just another one of the many contrasts that make up modern Japan, I suppose. 

On chocolate. And then some.

I took on quite the research project for today's "Topical Tuesday" post over at Burrowers, Books & Balderdash. It started out as a new perspective on Valentine's Day (as if we didn't have enough of that last week, right..?), inspired by my surprise at the Japanese version of the Western holiday (they do so love to adopt holidays over here). But then I discovered a whole new story within the story, which led me to read up on African politics, specifically that of the Ivory Coast (or Côte d'Ivoire, as I've now learned it's supposed to be - though I am not sure why the French name reminding them of the colonial past is better than the English version meaning the exact same thing..).

As usual, you'll have to go over there to read the full post. This is just a teaser, and an outlet for all the things I didn't manage to fit into the post at BB&B. For instance the demoralizing statistics on fair-trade chocolate versus definitely-not-fair-at-all-trade chocolate (the fair-trade one only accounted for about 1% of the market share in 2005, the most recent number I could find). The latter often uses child labour, many of which are the victims of human trafficking and slavery.

As if this was not enough, cocoa production also contributes to deforestation, as the coca trees often compete with rain forests for space. The cocoa tree itself is also a fragile plant, which holds an important part in the ecosystem. With deforestation, the cocoa tree is endangered too, and farmers will constantly need to chop down new areas of forest to plant new cocoa trees. Thus it is a vicious cycle.

All this reading made me want to stop eating chocolate and go hug a tree (if it hadn't been for the fact that I once heard that trees were actually hurt by hugging...). Instead I wrote a blog post (or two, actually, since this one probably also counts with all its depressing facts) about it - so maybe you can find the inspiration to stop eating chocolate and (not) hug a tree.

No. I'm not pointing any proverbial fingers (not even the middle one, though the cruelty in cocoa production does seem to warrant it). I bought a packet of chocolate myself today (though in my defense, it was before all the researching took place...), and there isn't as much as a hint of any fair-trade emblems or rain forest frogs on it. Thus I am pretty sure I would be tossing cocoa beans in a glass house...

We should all be buying only fair-trade. We should all recycle, and while we're at it, we should floss our teeth and make our bed every morning. It is when I realize I fail on most of the above I wonder if I'm a faux idealist - if I am not willing to change myself, then how can I expect the world to change?

At least I can advertise. Buy fair-trade! 

And if you see this little guy on your products, you can be sure it didn't kill any trees.

If you want to read more, I found this pretty cool blog - The Frog Blog - which is where the Rainforest Alliance shares info about new initiatives. One of them, the REDD+ is a UN programme to reduce emissions in developing countries by providing a financial initiative (so there is environment and development). As for fair-trade, you find lots of useful info on both the Fairtrade International and World Fair Trade Organization. For instance, you can here see lists of products that are fair-trade, so that the next time you go chocolate shopping, you have a choice.

On 4th of July

I wasn’t going to post at all today, and especially not on this topic as I feel it isn’t mine to tackle. But then I read this wonderful post over at Confessions of a Watery Tart. I started writing a comment to her post, but before I was done typing I realized I had accidentally written a post of my own. So, since today is a special day (did y’all know it was the Norwegian queen’s birthday? I bet you didn’t. Most Norwegians don’t… But that is hardly the point. It is Independence Day in the US, and frankly, that is more important – even in Norway):

The United States of America is probably the one country in the world EVERYONE, regardless of whether they have been there or not, has an opinion about. Add that it is one of the most diverse countries in the world, and it shouldn't come as a surprise that the images floating around about the US are varied and often misunderstood or plain wrong.

Personally I have gone through several phases in how I have seen the US. During the Clinton years I was too young to know the meaning of the word "critical", but it wouldn't have mattered all that much anyway, since the world was still recovering from decades of Cold War-ness, and since we (in the West, at least) mostly agreed with the US, it was difficult not to still see the Americans as "the good guys".

I grew up, became a little more aware and a little wiser, and along came Bush. Regardless of whether you liked his politics or not, Bush definitely had one quality that made him collide with many people in other parts of the world. Everything he said was black & white. "You're with us or against us." "You're right or wrong." I think Norway mostly fell into the "with" and "right" categories, but we still felt queasy about it. Many Norwegians disliked Bush, then by extension the US, and eventually, Americans in general. (Which is ironic, because that meant that we saw the world in black & white, just like Bush...)

What turned me around again, were two things: first, I got to know some actual, real, flesh and blood Americans (since I, after all, can't be said to *know* Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp even if I've seen many of their movies). Through the online community, and through my studies abroad, I started to learn that Americans were as different, and as human, as the rest of us. Many of them became close friends. Some of them agreed with the Bush government. Some of them didn't. All of them were much more than their political and religious beliefs.

Secondly, Obama came to save the day. Please note that I am not saying that he is right or wrong, that I agree or disagree, or that you should agree or disagree with his politics. But the message he sent to the world – "we are willing to talk to you again" – definitely made a whole lot of difference. Let me just add that the jury is still out on whether this is a lasting difference or if it merely was a temporary after-effect of the reintroduction of grey zones in world politics.

By the time I finally got to visit the US last fall, my mind was filled with any number of ideas of what this country would be like. That is where I made my first mistake. As I said, the US is probably one of the most diverse countries in the world. It is nearly impossible to say what it is “like”, because it is like everything and nothing all at once. Mysteriously silent cowboys? Sure. Loud-mouthed rednecks? Absolutely. Clever and intelligent academics. Definitely. Sweet old ladies with the Bible close at hand? Yes, ma’am! Emo teenagers, stay-at-home moms and donut-munching police officers? All of the above. There is hardly a stereotype you cannot find in real life in the US. But in addition there are hundreds, thousands, probably millions more.

I only got to see a small part of the country when I was there. And yet this was enough to make me realize that I had been gravely underestimating the variety of the country. In Europe we tend to get offended when people refer to our vast and diverse continent as just “Europe”. You’re not European, you’re Italian or Swedish or Estonian or Hungarian. When Americans say they’ve been to Europe, we roll our eyes and count to ten before we ask them to specify the countries they visited. And yet we never do the same about the US. Whenever I talk about my stay last fall, I say I visited the US – I never say “I lived in Maryland”. Even if I now know that Maryland is a whole lot different than for instance Minnesota (which I also visited).

I remember writing a school report once, I’m guessing fifth grade or so. It was supposed to be about a country. I thought I’d be clever and ask my relative, Darlene, to give me some inside information about the US. So I wrote to her, asking what the main characteristics of the US were. I remember being slightly disappointed at her reply – which was something along the lines of “I don’t know where to start, can I perhaps tell you some of the characteristics of Minnesota specifically?”

I now know what she meant.

There probably isn’t any day as well-suited to celebrate the American diversity as Independence Day – the commemoration of the Declaration of Independence. In this declaration lay the foundations of the rights and freedoms that make the US the country it has become. Using these (at the time) new ideas stemming from the Enlightenment created a unique cornerstone for political thinking, both in the US and in many other countries. These are ideas that we still hold to our heart, and they have continued to play an important role in the development of international Human Rights for instance.

For this I admire the United States. There are many other reasons for me to admire this country (most have to do with the Americans I have met). In additon, there are a lot of things I don’t admire, and a lot of things about the way the US presents itself and is presented by others to the world that annoy me, or sadden me, or disappoint me. But those are issues I don’t feel the need to get into today. Because according to the American way of thinking (I am generalizing again, I know…) I am at liberty to believe what I want to believe, and I have the right to disagree. For that I am thankful.

So, regardless if you agree with the politics of the US or not; regardless if you love or hate whatever it is you perceive as “American culture”; regardless if you yourself is American – I encourage you to take some time today to consider your opinions about the US. Are you absolutely sure they are all correct?



Happy “birthday” United States of America, and queen Sonja of Norway ;)

On girafă*

I have earlier blogged about how Romanian accordion players have become something of a sign of spring in Oslo. They are everywhere. While my previous post focused on the charming element of this; there is a much more serious side of this story. This is the heart-wrenching part of it.


Most mornings I take the tram to the university. Oslo still has a number of street cars (in addition to the subway and buses) taking you across the (extended) city centre relatively efficiently. In my case, the tram ride takes longer than the subway, but it saves me from a more crowded commute and a longish walk in the morning when I usually am in a hurry. The tram also is crowded, but less so.

About a month or so ago I noticed a new trend on my morning tram ride. Three or four people unmistakably recognizable as Romanian accordion players and/or beggars were on the tram. Just like anyone else going to work, they were taking the tram. Only most people’s work doesn’t consist of standing outside (in still relatively cold weather) for twelve hours a day, hoping to earn a few coins from passing strangers.

The Romanians are easily recognized. The way they look and dress, for one thing, and the accordion many of them are carrying distinguishes them from most commuters. In addition I noticed one other thing on the tram – they carried the unmistakable smell of people who are living outdoors. These were human beings who hadn’t had the opportunity to take a shower or change their clothes for weeks. As I realized this, I pitied them, but there was nothing I could do about it, so it quickly escaped my mind when they left for work at their preferred locations downtown.

A few days later, however, I thought about them again when I read a news story in the paper. 41 Romanians had been evicted from a tiny apartment not far away from where I live, due to unsanitary conditions and for fire precaution reasons. The images from the apartment were disturbing to say the least. The mere idea that people had been living in what looked like a dump where food, garbage and excrements were floating, was shocking. The fact that they were so many in that tiny space, and that several of them had been seriously ill, made it all the worse. What perhaps made it especially close for me, however, was that the next morning, and every morning afterwards, the Romanians on the tram have been gone. It’s an easy conclusion to draw – the ones evicted were “my” Romanians.

I’m all for a liberal immigration policy. Partly because I realize that from a strictly economic perspective Norway is a country that without immigration would be in shortage of labour. From a socioeconomic perspective I also recognize the value the work and presence of these immigrants add to our society. Taking this into account, the challenge lies in having a solid integration policy, not in having a restricted immigration policy.

However, there are two problems with the current flow of people coming from Romania (and some other East European countries – but the Romanians make a reasonable example and a considerable portion of the group of people in question). First of all, they are not creating any values. They are not working, and thus they are not paying taxes. They are not buying anything here either, so from a strictly economic point of view, they are not adding to the creation of economic values. However, they are not creating any non-economic values either, seeing as they don’t intermingle with others.

Secondly, they are not immigrants. They have no intention of staying in Norway. They are here to make money, and the little money they make, they take back with them to Romania. What they are doing is taking economic values with them, and they are not making up for it by leaving anything (economic or otherwise) behind.

Even from a humanitarian point of view, however, I do not know if I think it is such a good idea for them to come here in a desperate search for money. I cannot even imagine what conditions they must be living under at home if they really see the alternative of living like animals crowded together in a foreign country is a price worth paying.

I got into a discussion a while back with a couple of friends. We all agreed that the situation for the Romanians in Oslo is awful and intolerable. We were not able to come up with an easy solution, though. My friends all argued that they felt terrible every time they passed one of the beggars without giving them anything. Personally, I have quite a firm principle when it comes to beggars. I almost never give anything, both because I rarely carry cash, but more importantly because I know that there are alternative ways for them to earn an income in Norway. No one has to beg on the streets here, and if they do, it’s often because they do not want to succumb to the institutions available. Obviously, this image is not always as black-white as I claim here, but that is the basic situation.

With the Romanians, however, the circumstances are completely different. They are not Norwegian citizens, and thus they don’t qualify for these institutions. And yet the Norwegian beggar who is openly going to use the money he receives on drugs, gets more than the obviously poor Romanian women holding their cups up to passers-by.

I still do not believe giving them my spare change will make any lasting difference. To me, it seems apparent that what needs to be changed is the system. Ideally, the system that should be changed is the one that is clearly not functioning well back in Romania. They should not have to come here and live under such inhuman conditions. As my friends pointed out, however, there isn’t much hope for a system change in Romania. So for us to wish that the Romanians leave and hope for the best back home, is not really a viable solution.

Apart from the guilty conscience they give us – are the Romanians really a problem here? Are they an actual burden to our admittedly well-fed society, or can we allow ourselves to let them stay if they believe this life is better than the one they were leading where they came from?

This is a difficult question. Many of them probably do no harm at all. I stand by my basic view that no one should have to live like this in Norway in 2010, but if they perceive themselves as better off here, who am I to judge? Well, there is an added problem that probably does not apply to all of them, but certainly to some. There have been raids of muggings and thefts that have been associated with the accordion players and the beggars. It appears that they operate in groups, where some of them are performing legit or semi-legit activities (it is technically legal to beg in Norway since the abolishment of the løsgjengerloven [“the drifter bill”, roughly translated] in 2006), while others are doing definite illegal ones. As it stands, it appears they have nothing to lose. If they avoid getting caught, they can return to their country with whatever values they have gained. If they are getting caught, they are put into Norwegian prisons, which, frankly, probably are far better than whatever lodging they have so far had in Norway.

As far as I can tell, there are indications but no firm evidence that the Romanians are organized – that the beggars and accordion players are working together with criminals who are raiding stores and private homes. Fortunately, one right that still applies to the Romanians (because it is a universal human right rather than one depending on the colour of your passport) is innocence until the opposite is proven.

Whether or not they are organized, however, (as another one of my friends pointed out) – they still need our help. Regardless of this, the partly documented and highly speculative indication that Romanians and other similar groups are responsible for a large share of crime in Oslo and Norway in general triggers xenophobia. Obviously, not all of the beggars and accordion players are criminals. But it is difficult if not impossible for the average Norwegian to distinguish the criminals from the rest, and this further diminishes the Romanians’ chances of succeeding with their legal efforts here.

In a way, the different attitudes towards the Romanians remind me of Victor Hugo’s famed Les Misérables. On the one hand, you have those who want to help no matter what – like the bishop who gives Jean Valjean food and shelter, and then dons Valjean two silver chandeliers stolen from the bishop as a way of getting Valjean out of trouble. On the other hand, you have the Javerts. The crazed police officer does everything possible to hunt down what he believes is a criminal. Neither the bishop or Javert takes the whole situation into account. Javert refuses to acknowledge that Valjean’s only crime was to steal because he wanted to feed a starving child. The bishop chooses to ignore Valjean’s criminal streak because he believes in the good within every human. While I would much rather be the bishop than Javert, I feel there is a middle road lacking. Someone who does recognize the fact that Valjean is a criminal (not so much for his original sin, but for the one he commits when stealing the chandeliers from his benefactor), but at the same time keeps in mind what caused him to commit the crime. And to me, the end result should be, rather than helping the individual and hope for the best (because sadly, not everyone would do like Valjean and turn his life around because of one act of kindness), removal of the cause of the collective problem. Valjean shouldn’t have been put in a position where he was forced to steal in the first place. The Romanians in Norway should not have to beg or steal or even play the accordion. They should have jobs, and some genuine prospects.

In the meantime there are now at least 41 Romanians who no longer have a home, but who nevertheless probably still live somewhere in Oslo, hoping to earn those few kroner each day so that they might have a slightly better life when they return home come autumn. It is heartbreakingly sad, but I really do not know what can be done.
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* Girafă means giraffe (no surprises there) in Romanian. Romanian being a romance language (”romance” as in the language category, not as in ”Lady and the Tramp meatball puffing”) isn’t a language I normally would have chosen to title a giraffy blog (since languages within the same linguistic group often have similar sounding words for obsolete things such as giraffes, and this normally wouldn't have been exotic enough for me to chose). However, with the topic of the blog it seemed to fit. Sadly.

It might have been more appropriate for this post to use the Romani word for giraffe instead of the Romanian one. In Norway the media almost consequently uses the term “Romanians” to denominate the people I have spoken of in this post, and I have chosen to do so too. Even though many of them are Romanian citizens, they are Romani people, gypsies (or so I have been told). While certain people in Norway have used this as an excuse to distinguish this group from other Romanians, in reality this is just another way of discriminating gypsies. The relevance of making this distinction, however, could be that we know gypsies are already shunned many places, and it makes the argument that they are not living good lives elsewhere more valid. But apart from that, I don’t see the relevance of distinguishing them from other Romanians, so I have avoided doing so.

However, Wikipedia failed to teach me what a gypsy would call a giraffe. I could not find a Romani page for giraffe (which has been my way of finding exotic giraffe names). Whether this means that the Romani aren’t all that into giraffes or if it has some other explanation, I cannot say.

Also, this post has taken me a looooong time to write (and it is looooong as well – sorry about that). It is a touchy topic, with a number of potential traps to fall into. I didn’t wish to offend anyone, so I weighed each word carefully. I didn’t wish to simplify the problem, so I have read countless newspaper articles, public police reports, and other research material that I was able to get a hold of. Most of all, I did wish to do justice to this subject, paticularly because I feel a lack of justice this has often been part of the problem. Regardless of what the Romanians in Oslo has or has not done, they are still human beings, but they are not treated as such. It breaks my heart to see this happening, every day, in a country that supposedly is the world’s best place to live.