Sojourn to Norway

The Roma Camp

I saw hopelessness and resignation. I saw the eyes of those who have no power, no rights, no freedom of choice. Their homes are shacks. They live among people who do not want them, who do not want to see or acknowledge such appalling living conditions. They are refugees with no country of their own. Their dwellings seem to come from a time long ago – before sewers, before clean running water. Who are these people? They are the Roma, the gypsy people.

On Monday, June 25, a Roma participant at the Nansen Center in Bujanovac, Serbia, showed us a Roma camp just outside of town. The trip had been on our original schedule, but once it was time to leave, our guide was not sure the visit was such a good idea. While our intention was to get an understanding of the Roma situation in Serbia, our guide was concerned that the people would feel looked at as if they were zoo animals. In the end, we decided to go. I expected to drive for a while before arriving. The ride was less than five minutes, however, which meant that the camp was within walking distance of the Nansen Center. I was surprised that such primitive living conditions existed so close to a town.

The Roma are a displaced people living all over Europe. In Bujanovac, they had no political representation until recently. Nansen Dialogue in Bujanovac has worked with the local Roma to unite their four or five political parties into one, to help them gain municipal representation. Since the people in the camp we visited are refugees from Kosovo, they have no official document, which means they cannot go back to where they came from.

Essentially, a once nomadic group of people is stuck in a camp outside of a divided community (separated into areas of ethnic Serbs and Albanians) with few options for positive change.

The sun blazed hot as we got out of the cars. Our group consisted of the five of us from PLU, Steinar, two people from the Nansen Center and one member of the Roma community – our guide – who has gained an elected position in the municipal government. I do not know what I expected to see, but the sights that met my eyes will not soon be forgotten. We walked across the dry, litter-covered land, in between a row of dwellings that can be described best as makeshift shacks. They were made of corrugated steel, old plastic and cloth. Tires on the roofs held down white plastic tarps. The people looked at us as we walked through and children in mismatched outfits walked curiously behind us.

We entered the main part of the camp and were greeted by an elder who had participated in one of the Nansen Dialogue seminars held at Nansen Academy in Lillehammer. We walked over open sewers and stagnant pools of water. We peered down dark hallways not tall enough to walk through standing upright. We saw piles and piles of garbage lining the paths of the camp. Groups of people of all ages sat under awnings, talking amongst each other and watching us as we walked through.

When we finished walking through the camp, a gathering of people surrounded us, their dark, blue-green eyes staring in curiosity. Most of the Roma people are not working because they cannot find jobs; getting hired is difficult.

Our guide told us that one of the biggest problems is disposing of the bodies of people who die. They have little money to pay for proper burial and do not want to leave dead bodies lying around. As one solution, people hoard their food and sell it in town to make extra money. And sometimes, elders don’t eat for a year to save money to pay for proper burial, according to the translation of our guide.

The most difficult part of the experience was not the filth or inadequate shelter, but the hopelessness. These displaced people literally have nowhere to turn. And in these modern times, it is painful to acknowledge that thousands of people in a developed part of the world are living so miserably, without any way to find empowerment. They are abandoned. They are stuck in a country in which they don’t belong and have little hope of moving elsewhere.

Figuring out how to share this experience is difficult. I left the camp feeling overwhelmed and depressed. All I can do for now is to continue processing what I saw, and sharing my experience so that others come to know the travesty of this group of people. If I have learned anything from this trip, I have learned the power of helping people tell their stories. Telling the Roma story will be part of how I give back to everyone who made this trip possible. I want to help spread awareness about the Roma plight so their suffering is no longer silent to the world. In doing this, I will also be publicizing the work of the people in the Nansen Dialogue Network.

As a final note, we have no pictures from this experience because of the sensitivity of the visit.

A whirlwind update of our Balkan journey

What does it mean to live in a divided community? A town split physically in half by a river, and split socially by ethnicity and religion? It means people do not use the bridge to cross to the other side. It means people living in the south do not "mix" with people living in the north, except for business reasons. And as the status of Kosovo remains uncertain, it means this city in the north part of Kosovo maintains a constant atmosphere of tension.

The constructed divisions by which people here live are realities totally foreign to anything I've ever known. As such, it is difficult to put words to the anxious buzz of the people here. This place feel much different than Belgrade, where we were last weekend. It also feel different than the places we visited in Macedonia. Being here right now is hindering my ability to process what such division actually means for the people here. It is clear, though, that undetermined future of Kosovo plays a major role in daily life.

Hearing the stories of people who work for the Nansen Dialogue Network has given me a sense of hope that the future of this tumultuous area can involve some sort of reconciliation. Many of the different centers' employees have shared narratives with us about their own transformations. They have come to an understanding through dialogue and interaction that the "other" is in fact a complex and interesting human, not an enemy with evil intentions.

The ambiguous future of Kosovo is almost tangible here, and it's difficult to imagine that a decision can make happy all of the different people living here. It's hard to know even if dialogue can make a difference. But the fact that people believe enough in dialogue to work in such a divided place, to say they are "focusing on improving people's daily lives," is both empowering and inspiring.

Since we arrived in the Balkans, we have had little Internet access, and even less time to write and process all that we are taking in. We have had interviews with teams at six offices throughout the region, shared countless meals with them, visited a Roma (gypsy) camp in which people are living in deplorable conditions (expect more on this in the next couple of days), driven for hours and hours in cars without air conditioning in 100+ F degree heat, shared some intense conversation with each other, and grown to realize what a life-changing, vocation-shaping experience this is.

Lessons from Lillehammer

Sitting in the empty lobby of Nansenskolen, I have an empty feeling in my heart. I have spent the past four days with 25 highly motivated, intelligent, interesting students from the Balkans (Serbia, Kosovo, Bosnia, Macedonia and Croatia) and the Caucasus (Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan and Chechnya), and now they are all gone. The students boarded a bus to Oslo at 2 this afternoon, in preparation to start their six weeks of study at the International Summer School.

Saying goodbye to these diverse and inspirational people was much harder than I would have imagined. After all, we have been together for less than one week. The connections that we forged in those days, though, are ones I believe will last a lifetime. As one student said in the closing session this morning, the interactions we experienced here at Nansenskolen were not ordinary, shallow ones. “They were genuine.”

From these truly genuine relationships, I learned much about myself, dialogue and the workings of relationships. For one, I was able to put to practice some of the communication theory I learned at PLU in a setting that was drastically different than any I have ever experienced before. As part of the week’s seminar, we spent several hours in small groups dialoging about different aspects of ourselves. The intensity of the topics (the role of ethnic identity, for example) demanded my full attention and awareness of my communication practices. For example, I almost never crossed my arms to avoid appearing closed off, and I tried to ask thoughtful questions to other speakers to contribute to a positive communication climate. These are practices I try to use in everyday life, but they became that much more relevant when I found myself in a position where complete strangers were asked to share their stories (oftentimes sensitive and quite personal) with each other. Engaging in these dialogue sessions helped me reflect upon theories I learned in the classroom, and how they become important in a dialogue setting.

Secondly, I have learned the meaning and power of reframing an experience or perception. One of the lecturers, Erik Cleven, shared an example about a Nansen Dialogue Center project in Macedonia that is seeking to foster peace between Macedonians and Albanians in a particular municipality. The project has created opportunities for Macedonian and Albanian children to learn English and computer skills together, and to learn each other’s languages. Rather than concentrating on the conflict between the two ethnic groups, the project builds on skills that would be useful to both groups. Thus, the conflict becomes a secondary focus to the primary importance of learning new skills. Looking at this conflict in a different way allows new possibilities to open up. Realizing these new frames is a liberating. I experienced the reframing phenomenon several times this week, and each one turned on a light bulb in my head and my heart.

Finally, I witnessed the power of music and the way singing and dancing can bring people together. Our first night together, we danced the night away at Steinar’s house. Last night, we had a talent show that showcased singing and dancing from students’ cultures. We saw dances from Afghanistan, Iraq, India, Azerbaijan, Georgia and Chechnya, as well as from the Balkan regions. All in attendance were invited to get up and join in. The tunes were new for many in attendance, but that did not seem to stop anyone from putting on a smile and busting a move. The jovial spirit in the room produced a dynamic of connection and relation. After PLU taught the final dance – the Electric Slide – the group dissolved into conversation, volleyball and more dancing. As I looked around me, I saw people talking and laughing together, sharing the party with one another. I do not deny that ethnic tension still persisted within the group, but I sense these social nights together will cement bonds across ethnicity. The group will always have these memories together to look back upon.

The lectures I heard, the conversations, stories and laughter I shared have already begun to weave themselves into the fabric of my identity. Yes, I am an American and yes I am a lifelong student of conflict management. Now, I am also a person who understands what it means to listen – not simply hear, but truly listen – to stories and experiences for which I have no personal reference point. I know what it means to ache for the tragedy that I once knew only through the television screen. I also know what it means to rejoice when two people find understanding.

To be an American

Steinar hosted our group of 30 at his home last night, and provided us all with memories we will most likely not soon forget. After processing my emotions from the day, I walked with the group to Steinar’s home. The day had been exhausting. During a dialogue session with students from Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia and Chechnya, I developed an uneasiness about my position within the group. Identifying that unease took several conversations with my PLU colleagues and much time spent walking and thinking. Eventually, I started to realize that my discomfort developed because I felt like an outsider; one whose life experiences were so drastically different than many of the others that I could not fit in. As we walked to Steinar’s I felt unsure about the evening ahead of me. Would I be able to relax with the group? Or would I feel to awkward and different?

I spent the first hour of the party sitting in the evening sun, talking to a Macedonian dance teacher. A bit later, I moved on to a conversation with a man from Serbia who is studying to be a chemical engineer. The hours passed and people started to sing. Students from all over the Balkans sang folk songs with smiles on their faces, and with some urging, the students from Azerbaijan also shared a song with the group. Finally, everyone started singing American songs, and embarrassingly, the PLU group knew very few of the lyrics.

Singing led to dancing, and Steinar’s porch transformed into a mini outdoor club. Students belted out lyrics, shook their hips and waved their hands in the air. No longer did it matter where anyone was from, just that we were dancing and laughing together.

Walking home from the gathering just after midnight (the sun had set at about 10:50 and it was still light outside), I reflected on the change in my state of being. Dancing with my fellow seminar students dissolved my sense of lonely isolation. I no longer felt as if I were “the American” in the group, but like a woman who just had a great night dancing and talking with the people around her. Of course, our night of camaraderie will not change the different realities of our lives, but it will help us start to build a common narrative. I can now begin to look at the people I am meeting as peers who enjoy getting up early to watch the sunrise, just as I do; who like to eat Norwegian jam and cheese on crackers for dessert after lunch, just as I do; who believe the world can become a better place by working to change the lenses through which we see conflict, just as I do.

Discomfort and uneasiness will no doubt play a major part of the rest of my life as I continue to pursue a vocation in peace-building. And most likely, finding some relief from those feelings will not come as easily as it has at Nansenskolen. The interactions I have had here, though, will form a foundation for effectively and positively managing my identity as a United States citizen, and more importantly, as a global citizen.

Jenn and Ingrid at the outdoor portion of Maihaugen, a museum of Norwegian history.

The Nansen Dialogue Network

I have realized that many reading this blog may not know much about the Nansen Dialogue Network. Therefore, I have included the link to the Nansen Dialogue Network's website, the NDN's mission statement, and a few pictures of Nansenskolen (which houses the Lillehammer part of the NDN) to provide further elucidation.

Link:

http://www.nansen-dialogue.net/

Mission:

The Mission of the Nansen Dialogue Network is to empower people who live in conflict situations— through application of ideas and techniques of dialogue— to contribute to peaceful conflict transformation, democratic development and promotion of human rights (…) and providing neutral and open space where different actors in a serious conflict can meet face to face in truthful and honest communication…” and also to “break down enemy images, as well as to increase understanding of each other’s positions, interests, and needs.

Nansenskolen entrance.

Nansenskolen Lane.

Main Building of Nansenskolen.

Our Small Shared World

Last night I was reminded of international mediator Steinar Bryn’s advice from two years ago when I was an intern of conflict resolution at Nansenskolen in Lillehammer, Norway.

He told me I should pick up smoking.

Being asthmatic and a competitive college varsity athlete, I thought his advice crazy.

Yet, before I threw away his suggestion as ridiculous, I stopped briefly to ponder the implications of his statement.

Steinar was referring to how Albanians and Serbians often linger over a cigarette during breaks in dialogue seminars at Nansenskolen. I often saw both groups returning to session a few minutes late in order to inhale one last drag…and simultaneously, engage in one more conversation with the other.

Although I didn’t take up smoking (after all it was only a ten-day seminar, and smoking could have become a life-long, unhealthy habit), I did file that piece of advice in my memory bank.

That piece resurfaced tonight when invited for an evening walk with students from Azerbaijan. Although I had planned to take a solo run through downtown Lillehammer, I reconsidered when I remembered Steinar’s statement about how real dialogue often occurs in the space between lectures.

I was not disappointed.

Within minutes, members of our PLU group paired up with members of the student group from Azerbaijan.

As we walked up the lane and began talking, I realized how similar our two groups were: we shared similar hopes for the future, seriousness of study, and even thesis topics.

One student I met (and talked with the majority of the time) was an Istanbul University student named Mukhtar. Within minutes, we discovered we were in pursuit of the same thesis project: protection of civilians in conflict zones under international humanitarian law.

Mukhtar was pursuing the subject for a Masters, while I had immersed myself in the topic for my undergraduate capstone course.

Promising to share my thesis with him, he responded he would like to cite my work (published or unpublished) within his soon to be 100+ pages of text.

As we talked about international humanitarian law, the seeming ineffectiveness of the Human Rights Council and other political issues, Mukhtar told me he stood for nations, not presidents or politicians. “I stand for the UN charter. You agree with the UN charter, and I stand with you,” said Mukhtar.

Reassuring him that a U.N. Universal Declaration of Human Rights poster had a permanent spot in my bedroom, I was not surprised when our friendship was sealed moments later over gelato at a local Turkish kebab shop.

PLU and Azerbaijan students take a walk under a rainbow to downtown Lillehammer.

Adventures in Fairyland

Today we visited the land of fairytales. Steinar Bryn, our guide here in Lillehammer and during our upcoming time in the Balkans, took us to Hunderfossen, a park just north of the city. He prepared us for the journey by saying that, when we finished at the park, we would feel refreshed and energized. Indeed, Steinar’s tour through the park provided plentiful opportunities to revisit stories from childhood and to remember the joy of playing.

The park is full of activities, from bubble-blowing and go-carts (kids get to drive mini Mercedes) to rides and short videos. We met a giant but friendly-looking troll statue on our way in to an exhibit showcasing a variety of scenes from fairytales. A ride through a castle transported us through more Norwegian fairytales – stories about contrary wives, stubborn princesses, a three-headed troll and more.

Several displays reminded me of stories in the picture books of my past, bringing many smiles to my face. The most magical part of the park, however, was the setting. There I stood, surrounded by green, rolling hills, pots of colorful flowers, kids laughing as they played on toys, and an atmosphere of leisure. Steinar, who has years of experience working with ethnic groups in conflict, said he often brings dialogue groups to the park in order to provide a release from the intensity of a dialogue session.

I felt a sense of peace, sitting outside a fairytale castle and gazing at the beautiful land around me. As we begin our sessions with the International Summer School students who come in from the Balkans tomorrow, I am thankful to have the peace of this day in my memory. Our work will get more intense from this point on, and now I feel ready.

Ingrid sitting outside of the castle.

Jenn and Kyle play a game of chess at Hunderfossen.

A Day in Hamar

It is often said that Norwegians are a reserved people, but once friends, are friends for life.

Three of my Norwegian friends I met two years ago on a PLU semester study abroad program epitomize that statement. Yesterday morning they cleared their busy schedules to welcome me at the Hamar train station.

As we ambled on a well-worn path around Lake Mjøsa, we slipped into easy conversation, reliving memories while creating new ones. I was again reminded of the value Norwegians place on outdoor fitness as we were soon passed by families on bicycles and cross-country skiers engaged in land training (running with poles).

We soon stumbled upon what appeared to be a wedding ceremony in the famous and ancient glass cathedral. As we headed back to the train station to meet up with the arriving PLU group (they took a later train from Oslo that morning), we marveled at the wedding ceremony attendees adorned with gorgeous finery in the intensely hot weather.

After meeting up with the other PLU students and professors, we took a brief tour of Hedmark University College before heading toward the central part of town.

We picked a great day to visit Hamar, as we discovered a lively festival with face-painting, excited children running about with balloon swords and heart wands, and the smell of delectable food.

The atmosphere reminded me of downtown Puyallup’s “Meeker Days” Festival, but with a slight twist: instead of the Elephant Ear crepes, we had delicious Norwegian pancakes with strawberry jam and long ropes of sour and sweet licorice.

After touring more of Hamar and grabbing drinks at an outdoor café, we enjoyed a relaxing outdoor lunch at Peppes Pizza—a popular spot for Norwegians and PLU students (as we sat at the exact table location as two years ago during my first day of orientation on the Hedmark program).

After lunch, we said a premature goodbye to our Norwegian and PLU professors as one of my friends drove us to my other friend’s beautiful country summer place. We lounged, chatted and napped and woke up to steaming mugs of tea.

After our short respite, we ventured forth again to Lillehammer

Upon arrival to Lillehammer (after a quick stop for ice cream), we found international mediator Steinar Bryn and our PLU professors waiting for us on Bryn’s porch overlooking the beautiful Lillehammer lake.

We feasted on reindeer and moose burgers (scrambled eggs and salad for the vegetarians of the group) and drank deep glasses of red wine as we watched the sun dip down behind the mountains (at 10:30 p.m.).

My friend remarked she had never seen me so happy.

I simply responded that I love Norway.

I love the spirit of dialogue and reflection embraced by Norwegian culture and ideology, and I love the simplicity of life as shared through reconnection with friends.

The visit to Hamar reminded me that change is constant, time is fleeting, and that some relationships are everlasting. Although the college bookstore had changed locations, scaffolding had morphed into a new science building, and the blazing sun had melted the blanket of snow that covered the streets, the relationships established two years ago remained strong and with it my love of Norway.

Jenn and Mona walking around Lake Mjøsa.

PRIO and Peace Journalism

I knew I would get to talk about peace journalism on this trip, but I never expected to hear the term so many times in one day. We visited PRIO (International Peace Research Institute, Oslo) this morning, where we met with Gina Lende, a researcher and senior adviser for the institute. After Gina brought us tea, coffee and sparkling water in the Peace Room, where we held our meeting, we began to get acquainted with each other and our respective projects. The end of our conversation shifted to Peace Journalism, and its growing role in conflict management.

PRIO’s mission focuses on conducting research that will be helpful in promoting a more peaceful world. Gina is now based in Oslo, but previously spent three years working at the PRIO Cyprus Center in Nicosia. This center focuses on researching “the Cyprus conflict and dialogue between the Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot communities,” according to the 2006 Annual Report.

While Gina was familiar with the concept of peace journalism, she was unsure of its values and characteristics. So, the five of us got to explain to her it to her: the idea of proactive journalism in conflict zones; journalism that promotes uniting divided communities around a common narrative. She told us that PRIO is considering a media monitoring research project that would examine political issues in conflict zones and how those issues are portrayed in the media. The purpose would be to “start conversations in hot zones,” Gina said.

I found further encouragement to pursue my interest in peace journalism when Gina told us about a student who received a Fulbright scholarship to study peace journalism in the United States. This area of journalism, which has seemed somewhat abstract to me in my past research, came to life with Gina’s stories – people are actually using peace journalism!

Media play a huge role in areas of conflict: they have the power to convey messages to the public, and the nature of those messages shapes the perceptions people have about the conflict. Such messages have the potential to quiet or inflame the situation. The more I learn, the more I believe peace journalism can provide a positive media presence in areas of conflict.

Gina, her explanation of PRIO, and her interest in our dialogue/peace journalism work, gave a hopeful glimpse of how people are working to lessen the conflict in the world…and motivation to continue pursuing how I can be a part of this work!

First Impressions

We made it to Norway! After almost 12 hours of flying, we stepped off of the British Airways plane, got our passports stamped, and took a train into downtown Oslo. Sunshine and a light breeze greeted us as we walked to our hotel, a very swank spot near the waterfront. Our room on the sixth floor overlooks an indoor courtyard, which last evening was filled with the sounds of live opera singers.

We found dinner at a small deli on the corner of Karl Johans Gate, a main street leading to the palace. The streets here are so clean, littered only occasionally with a cigarette butt or forgotten soda bottle. At 7 p.m., people at outdoor cafes filled the streets with sounds of conversation and laughter as we wandered toward the water.

I am in Oslo for the first time, and am pleasantly surprised with how comfortable I feel in this city. My past travels have taken me to Paris, London, Rome, Florence and Sydney, and never before have I taken so quickly to a strange new place. Maybe I feel an affinity for this place because of my Norwegian heritage, or maybe it’s because the sunshine, breeze and slight chill in the air slightly resemble an early summer night in Tacoma. Whatever the reason, I am looking forward to my time exploring this beautiful city.

A view of the Oslo waterfront at 9 p.m.