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Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Finally! Noen snakket litt med henne! Mandy met her family due to this post in a small little blog! Endelig Mandy Bjordal møtet hennes Norske slektninger! Og, Nei! Vi har ikke gitt øpp! i 2015 Vi svinger tilbake!


Jeg ønsker a dele nyheter har med dere, og å skrive litt på Norska.. Norsk.. ha!ha! ha!

Kanskje du lærer meg språk. Jeg bor i utland nå. Jeg foretrekker å huske Norsk! Ååå! Jeg husker AdmiralP!

"Kan du øsnker å snakke litt med meg?"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xledev-_Css
Dette skal jeg skrive om neste gang!

Nyheter! Nyheter!

Endelig Mandy skjenne hennes familia i Norge!


Jet skrev om Mandy Bjørdal forfatter i USA. http://bliikonya.blogspot.co.at/2012/11/if-i-were-mandy-bjordals-relation-in.html

Det vise om at 195 folk har lest dette artikel har i mi blog.  Mandy ble født, og øppvøkst i Uganda, men har bodde i Kenya. Hun hadde ikke besøkt Norge. 

Etter at vi delet hennes interressant historien om hvordan umulig det var å få kontakt med hennes stefamilia så besøkte hun noen av dem i USA!

Mandy ble så øverrasket da hun fikk brev fra Norge! Hele familien besøkt Elvis Presleys hjemme sammen, og de reiste sammen.

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Det var en gang en dame.... av Flink Huldra

 
Flink Huldra liker San Hanshaugen Parken
I dag introdusere vi en dame som heter Flink Huldra. Hun sa nei mange ganger fordi kjemper for menneskeretter. Hun sa nei til Taliban som skutt Malala Yosoufzai. Hør!


Det var en gang en kvinne i Oslo. Hun ønsket så mye å kommunisere på norsk, men hun skulle også finne jobb. Dette ble veldig vanskelig på hun, og hun bestemte seg å øve seg på norsk i en blog.

Hun liker gødt å skrive og hun har startet nå å skrive hit. Det er hun som skrive nå på norsk for at hun kan forbedre hennes språk. Hun gleder seg til å bidra til aviser i Oslo, mens hun smaker liv i utland. Hun tror at dette er helt mulig. 

I forrige uke hun klodde hennes hodet og tenkt! Det var da at hun oppdaget at liv er ikke så lett. Men dette betyr at hun tror i å gjøre hver dag mer innsats. Tenk at hun lærte norsk da hun hadde fylt 50 år og hun flyttet til norge på grunn av forfølgelse. Hun lese norsk aviser på nettet hver dag. Hun liker gødt Klasse Kampen. Hun leser Aftenposten og Morgenbladet. Vi vil kalle hun Flink

Hun har kommentert at norsk mediene har velgig mye debatt, men er hun usikker om hvis Norsk mediene bidra til skilling av folk i leser grupper som ikke hjelpe med integrering. Men hun tror ikke så mye på integrering. Hun snakker mye om å få informasjon om andre folk og å tilhøre. Hun spørre så mange ganger "hva betyr integrering uten tilhøring? Er dette mulig?" 

Flink Huldra leser veldig mye og av og til vil hun deler noe som hun har lest. I dag deler hun dikt av Ruth Maier fra hennes bøk som het: En lys Sommers usigelige smerte Red, Jan Erik Vold
Se her:

Smerte

Hvorfor er alt godt og vondt på samme tid?
Søtt dufter syrinen, senker likevel med sin duft
en dyp smerte i brystet.
Mildt duver kirsebærblomsten mot den blå himmel,
røre likevel med ømne fingre
brystet, så det smerter

Da jeg så hennes først artikel som er dette, jeg spurte hun hvorfor hun er så interessert i Ruth Maier. Hun svartet at der er noen tinge som skjer fordi de sjker og en av dem er at noen ga hun den bøka. Og det andre er at hun skulle forby Darlbergstein 3, hvor Ruth Maier bodde i 1940 tallet for hun ble drept i Auschwitz. Sa hun at hver dag så hun noe som er skrev utenfor Darlbergstein og dette hun kunne ikke glemme.

Her bodde
Ruth Maier
Fødelsår: 1920
Deportert  1942
AUSCHWITZ
DREPT 1.12.1942

Øøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøø!
Men så trist...øøøøøøøøøøøø! De var mange som dør.
øøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøø

Flink Huldra forteller at hun er glad i de unge. Dette er fordi de lærer noe uansett. Noen av de unge... de er aldri de samme som voksener tenker, noen av dem sier Nei i mye. En av dem skrev:
i TIME to say: NO!

Disse dikt ble inkludert i TIME to Say: No! som ble utgitt i Østerrische PEN i Wien. Alle av dem er skrev på elever på Engelsk.

Markus:

We have to stop this crazy situation
Let the women have their education!
This is not an imagination,
We can do this in every nation!

Ramja Jeyakumaran:

Girl or boy we should all go to school
Eduacation would make us smart and probably cool..
http://ttsn.penclub.at/i-am-malala/


Disse i mange sto opp for Malala i 2012. Hva har du gjort i det siste for at andre kan har frihet?

                                                                                  Flink Huldra 















Friday, November 8, 2013

Vær så god Nina Simona! To sekunder, Ja...Visning ja... når?

She changed her name from Nafissa to Nina Simona and. This is DittOslo

Nightbird, when cometh the dawn? You don't know, so just sing on! Song of liberation is on. Switch on the light of the mind.

I feel like I enter into small veins and tunnels of life no matter how big the canvas. And search for light, not a flat. 

Who is there in the universe of which we say we are all children of to say some things? Is she also a child of the universe and does she have a right to be here? Where in the world can one not play free and black but just be?

And inside there, I see her seated. I imagine it is me. I imagine explaining to my children that am no longer officially called Nafissa say Sadik for a man? My friends now hesitate to call me Naf as they always have. Or Sad. My son looks angry. He is 17. He gets angrier every hour, every day.


But there is something to celebrate. I come home with a new name and more interviews each day but still no job. He gets furious. In the end he does not seem to see us. He is in a world of his own. I know I cannot excuse every crime, I am so deeply frustrated that a man should shoot people on a bus in Årendal and I cannot excuse him, for his misery. But was he looking of a different face to wear in this society? That is a question we must ask. Destruction and rage come because one wants to replace something they cannot name. Perhaps it leads to madness but that is not the point.  

It should never, ever be excused, please understand me when I say this for it was the same thing we said of Anders Breivik. But let me go back to the name thing and the loss of the self you need to be confident and to serve without fear, to belong.


I love Shakespeare but there is a lot in a name, and more than in a name as such, so much in people knowing who you are. Your identity. And that has nothing to do with what your skin looks like or name sounds like the advanced world wants to say with one mouth but then, there are contradictions.


I saw two photos of her sitting there in the local newspaper Ditt Oslo, which is also online http://dittoslo.no/and the first thing that came to mind was 'Ho! today someone of darker skin is in a long feature!' This is Norway. This is a small publication named Your Oslo. But you do not see all yours in Oslo often. And the media is the first place of the creation of that thing we call integrering http://snl.no/integrering here, Integration in English. This is not America ( by the way is one of the tunes you hear when you ring UDI that is the Immigration police here and that's funny. I wondered how an American takes that?

This is not another part of the world. It is Oslo, the capital city of Norway not Stockholm. This is not Sweden. It is Norway. Why repeat? Well, one reason is that a certain Minister for Culture and Entertaiment in Sweden found hideous cake good to cut and show how it gets cut, it was shape of woman.. that is another story if you missed it am sure this big Internet field for the world has it for you. Just tweak a little. 

So, Nafissa: She changed her name so that she could get positive replies to if she could view a flat and also get a job interview. It sounded too Muslim she said. But the paper affirmed something that the authorities of today in Norway call non-existent here. Racism. Don't talk about that. We are like stilled here. Likestilling. Social equality!

So did Nafissa remain who she was? Was she going to hit the headlines if she remained Nafissa? Some pilots hit the headlines on TV channels for changing their names too. They said that when some passengers heard soon after 9/11 words such as: "Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain Mohammed Nuru speaking..." Well, they did not hear the rest. I think if you change your name for the flight it is no problem but forever? To get a job? To get a house? Well some people argue it is fine. They will say to me. 

"Come on, Nafissa is clever, hun er så flink slik at...! Some Norwegians have said in this interview that this is the one thing that makes them totally ashamed to be Norwegian. Others say, well.There are many others who do it and then they get a job. Like Mr Terje Tordvel who was actually Singh Babaji who came from Stavanger to Oslo. At the aiport where his interview was, it was hard for the Norwegian man interviewing him ( it would also have been hard for me) to identify him and believe anything about him. 

Some people changed names and got the job and then they kept it only for a while because of likestilling, equality, social equality? Well, the employer will tell you that they were not up to the mark, not quality material. Likestilling tongue in cheek, a famous woman here.

Norwegians often tell the anecdote that some people remark, 'Oh, the capital of Sweden!' When they say the come from Norway. And that can't be fun. For many years precisely upto 1904 Sweden occupied Norway. 

Now one would like to say, especially if Norwegian that Norway is independent, and it is. That it is not a part of Sweden and will never be. You never know about that.  I suspect that some people in the world would more often think that Stockholm is the capital of Norway even when they live in Oslo.

Just imagine if Norway had to change her name to Sweden just to get a little more famous. Go on, let's try. Let us change all the letter heads tonight, stamps, constitution and all laws and wake up and say... hmmm, treat us like this because we are now Swedish. Extreme? Not at all. Black people were mainly colonised or slaved by Europeans and now they change their names. But she was clever.. .hahaha! Nina Simona music and background, not bad at all... but see Norway saying just call me Namibia today because I would like the world to know I can really tap sunshine from the highest mountains these days. I won't even move to the South of the Sahara, just call me Namibia and when you are tired, call me... South Africa.. Oh, no, don't, there is Jacob there and his ladder of women .. no and that thing we fought about so hard in Norway and sang it out and went to meet Mandela.. that thing, Apartheid.. racism. No, no, Oh No! Don't say that. But my angry boy was saying it so loudly last summer.

"Why do you keep us away from Norwegians in your classes?" Happens only in Oslo they say. He went on.. really so tired and sick of it.. "I did so well to learn your language, to get good marks but I cannot be with you!" Talk about welcome teenage rage. Teenagers want to, demand to belong. Say on there... go on! Teens make a different nation. 

Well, I love Oslo. I do in my own ways. But you see when there is even a Somali bus to go for food shopping in Sweden and others who drive there back and forth, well many peoples' capitals start in the stomach and for that you cannot blame me. It is so. 

I would like to say that racism is over. That is a wish. No such thing. What is also not heard enough is different approaches which this nation of Norway, by now you are confused which one am talking about surely or just maybe, needs to do a lot more. What I see is that people who talk about racism in Norway are often the ones who suffer it. 

And then, in a conference say, like one in which the Mayor of London came to hear and help Norway to deal with what they all called Multiculturalism, you begin to see that when these people speak they already show they have a chip on their shoulder. This should not be their battle. Or mine but we have to squeak when the shoe pinches because nobody else will know it does. That is folk wisdom and actually they say there is no racism here.  That is not just they but the State leaders of 2013. 

I just want to add if you are still reading that soon after Erna Solberg http://no.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erna_Solberg and her team beat Jens Stoltenberg's. http://no.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jens_Stoltenberg 

That means a swing to the right, there was an ad at bus stops soon after. It was the first time almost in my life that I saw women in an ad that were not slightly nude. I don't know who they were. By the time I thought to take a photo it was gone. Two women tightly clad in a Norwegian flag and woven into one like a mermaid below. That might not have been the right way to say we are right now but freedom is here.
Racism equals the trashing of all search for equality. Don't tell stories of equality if ...
Sigrid Undset is saying in her time, there is no equality between men and women but she sympathises with all who search for it. 
But, just a thought. I have written elsewhere. Do not speak to me about the equality of women if you still entertain racism. Forget it. It cannot work and never will. Racism divides women and men to a level which makes all the fight for other rights just nonsensical. And young men dislike very much to see disempowered mothers and fathers. I cannot give you the root of radicalisation but I know it does not start too far from here. Adults, parents are people playing games with systems to survive, to make a point. Young people do the same. They want them to belong. Can they? Could they?

I am for non-violence and will never bless a radicalised person, but I will ask myself where they came especially if they are so near me. I will not ask what race they are, nor religion so fast. 

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

IF I were Mandy Bjordal's relation in Norway, I would reach out to her, but Mandy accepts rejection. She wrote: Where do we belong?


Mandy Bjordal of the Ugandan royal family was snubbed by her relations in NorwayShe only wanted to greet them like we do in Afrika! Her father and sister died. She gave up her strong desire to see her people. She says 'blood is thicker than water' as we say at home!

  "Where do we Belong? is a story based on my young sister- Sylvia and myself. It is a story about our trials, our joys, our adventures, our challenges our experiences and our acceptance of life's many difficulties. The theme of this story is centred on our inter-racial, inter-cultural heritage as far back as our African grandfather Kabaka Mwanga II, our granduncle, Sir Daudi Chwa II, our grandmother Omumbejja Kajja- Obunaku, our uncle Prince Henry Kimera and Sir Edward Mutesa II, the Arab Muslim grandfather Mohammed Sief Narror, the European Christian father Harald Bjordal. The final chapter shows the tremendous courage and strength Sylvia had when she battled cancer."


Today I tell a story. One day long time ago, I met a princess from Uganda. She was in Nairobi. She wore a huge sunhat and was tall and beautiful. She told me that she is a kiwewesi. She is partly a princess but we decided to call her princess anyway. A princess of our own type. Graceful. She carried a lovely basket and drove a small car. But a princess of our own style in Africa. We laughed so much together when we she made fun of how her little car would get stuck on the way for lack of fuel. A princess. But she is one! And I had no car then. I was a freelance journalist with our best selling newspaper.

I sat with Mandy Bjordal- Louis, a writer with a new tittle Where do we Belong? Now I am a writer and I still wrote at that time precisely in 2000, but I had got some poems published in different anthologies. I loved seeing new writers and writing reviews. I also wrote good profile articles. I interviewed this princess for Lifestyle. She told me of her Norwegian father and Norwegian family in Norway. I had last heard of Norway in my school days and I only remembered the mountains and the salmon fish. Well, her other family was royal and directly related to Kabaka Mwanga. She writes in her book which is a biography about her father's  brother Svaren. I have an old copy of her book here in Oslo and am looking at it now .. she writes. "Father brought his brother Svaren, who lived in Norway, to join him as there was a fortune to be made. ... His brother came with his family- a wife and two daughters. The two young men were indistinguishable; everyone thought they were twins. But her parents separated. We spoke for long and I  published a long article in the paper I normally contributed to.

Mandy is a lovely person. We became friends after the article was published. She later left for Canada. Her book is dedicated to her sister Sylvia who died of cancer. It is a self published book and it is very interesting. I loved it. Where do we belong? Many of us can ask that question. Everyone can. Where do we belong? Where do we belong? Where do we belong? Where do we belong? Where do we belong? Where do we belong? What a lovely title. ( Thank goodness for blogs, my editor would have deleted the multiple question) but am asking it on purpose.)

The book is written in the first person. "Nava was the correct name of a daughter of a pricness" Mandy went into details to describe her royal family. It is a royal family. Now why am I telling this story like this?
I write to Mandy who now lives in Canada from time to time. She is still writing. She considers herself old in her 60s but I never believed it. She looks after her grandchildren in Canada and the USA sometimes and writes. I still call her Kiwewesi when I write to her from Oslo where I came to live in exile. I once asked her if she had finally reached her family in Norway or if she would look for them. She told me to forget it. Where do we belong? Especially those of us that people call half this or that? She had reached her step brothers who live in Norway. I think only by letter. And they told her that they did not wish to be in touch with her. She has written another book about that. Where do we belong?

 http://www.amazon.com/Where-Do-Belong-Mandy-Bjordal/dp/1419695517


I am not writing this so that someone can find Mandy. She has a lot out there. I am writing this to share that Mandy would have loved to reach other people not because she is a poor relation in Africa as our countries are often called, but because it is human to want to reach people who are part of family. It is not to blame anyone or claim anything. It was just that she so missed her sister Sylvia and would have loved to know more people of her family. She is like that. But she has learnt that it is hard to belong in Norway. For her, that is Norway. She will not even come to visit me in Norway.
 
I wonder about these things because I feel it is so important to be just. Especially here where human rights and values are 'sang'.  It is so good to be open to others even when they are not our relations. It is just human. That greeting that was writing itself on your lips and that you stopped was just what your neighbour needed. I am going general and with reason. How is it that we do not even greet our neighbours here? But no, Just a moment. I once came home late. Just opposite my door or a little bit above it a man who could have been Norwegian passed. It was on a day that we had had Anders Breivik very much in the media. I was a little afraid sometimes. But this gentleman had such an angelic smile I thought it was unbelievable. Clean smile.No words but just so effusive. I thought, this man might be Mandy's relation! Who knows. Maybe they smile at everyone else but are afraid of Afrika. Someone last month announced in a poetry meeting that he was afraid of Afrika and had flown over fearfully! Hmmm!

But  I was so happy because I felt that that wa so human. He could have looked at me in a hostile way and (maybe he is not even Norwegian) and I say ... see the Norwegians. They do not... like to see us! We need to kill stereotypes of course and to tell stories that make us think. My story here is not meant to reinforce any stereotype. It i smeant to crush it. Of course it is not a must that we accept or smile at anyone but anyway it is always good to know that people are not saying something negative by looking at us negatively or without any expression.

This book is an important book. She narrates stories that are worth reading.