Cuts for beauty

Eunhye was on her way to the university when a girl sitting opposite to her suddenly started waving her hand. Eunhye looked around, not really knowing whether the greeting was meant for her. Then the girl stood up and came over to Eunhye saying “hello.” 

“She knew my name, but I couln’t reconice her,” Eunhye says. “I had to ask for her name.”

When the girl told her name, Eunhye was confused. It was a girl from her high school class, they only graduated few months ago. But Eunhye couldn’t get the appearance of the girl to go together with her memory. 

“When I said I am sorry that I couldn’t recognize her, the girl said she’d had a surgery,’” says Eunhye. The girl had made her eyes bigger, her nose smaller and cut a part of the bones to make her face to get a v-shaped appearance. 

The story is far from unique for Eunhye. She cannot count how many of her high school friends did a surgery during the summer break between high school and university. 

“Some even did it already for the graduation,” Eunhye says, remembering how she could the scares on her friends eyelids on the graduation day. 

The most recent governmental poll on plastic surgeries, made in 2004, showed that 53 percent of the Korean women had undergone a cosmetic surgery by the time they entered collage. 82 percent aimed to have liposuction.

In Seoul, the advertisement for plastic surgeries can be seen everywhere. But in certain areas the presence is more obvious. When exiting the metro station Apgujeong, an area dominated by young, rich and fashionable people, the walls are covered with ads from different plastic surgery clinics. Walking around in the area, the clinics can be found every where.  

Recently, while having dinner with some new friends in the area, a guy asked me to guess the age of two of the women present. I thought they were in their 20s, maximum in their 30s. The guy just smiled at me and whispered that they are both over 40. When I tried to explain the misconception by blaming that Asians look younger than Europeans to me, they guy just mumbled something about that all women go trough so many  surgeries. Then he turned to the others and added something to their conversation about golf. 

Most common is making your eyes bigger trough a cut in the eyelid, making your nose smaller, liposuction and cutting the bones in the cheeks to get a more v-lined shape of the face. Recently, also whitening of the eyeballs is becoming popular. The conjunctiva, the outer surface of the eye, is said to loose its luster with the age and is therefore removed in order to let healthier cells grow. The surgeries are fast,  sometimes they do not last longer then 10 minutes. 

Since the number of clinics are increasing, the prices of the surgeries are becoming cheaper, making it an option for more and more people. 

One year ago, one of Eunhye’s closer friends told her about her plans to get surgery. Eunhye was chocked. 

“I begged her not to do it. I told her she is pretty the way she is and if she would do a surgery she would look like everybody else,” says Eunhye. 

Since then, they haven’t seen each other, and Eunhye isn’t sure if her friend went trough the surgery or not. 

Not even Eunhye is spared from the pressure of being beautiful in the right way. 

“People tell me I should fix my eyes and my nose. But that I don’t have to do the v-line, they say I already have it,” she explains. “But I don’t want to. I like myself as I am.” 

 

Seoul. May 25, 2008 

Food, fear and politics

Close to the subway exit at Konkuk University, some students have set up a table , handing out leaflets. They are also holding up signs in the air with the South Korean president Lee Myung-bak’s photo crossed over with red colour. 

For weeks, the streets of Seoul have been filled with people demonstrating. They don’t want Korea to import beef from American cows, frightened that the United States will send meat infected by the mad cow disease. The protests have expanded into a mistrust in the president, elected only in December last year. 

“Before, we didn’t import the meat from cows older than 30 months,” says a  student of Konkuk University. 

Reports on the mad cow disease tells that the cows are not likely to be infected if they are younger than 30 months. Even if beef sold in supermarkets will be labeled with the country of origin, people are afraid of the places where you cannot chose what kind of meat you are eating. 

“The canteens in schools and at working places, they don’t care, the just want the cheapest meat,”  says the student. He thinks that the president is not caring enough of the health of the people of South Korea. 

In other areas of Seoul, american soldiers are fearing other types of meat.

“We are not allowed to eat anything on chicken base,” says a soldier based in Korea since several years. 

Almost at the same time as the demonstration against the beef import  started, the bird flue broke out in Korea. Quickly, the disease spread over the country and was soon found in central areas of Seoul. 

Reports on the both diseases are presented in the newspapers, telling that no Korean has ever been infected by the bird flue, but are more likely than Americans to get the mad cow disease even though there has not been any case so far.

In the end, the agreement between Korea and the U.S. has gotten postponed. The Korean president is trying to find a solution so that he can keep the Koreans on his side. Now Korea will be able to stop the import in case of a mad cow disease outbreak in the U.S. Meanwhile, the bird flue has turned out to of the strain that doesn’t infect humans. 

 

Seoul. May 24, 2008 

 

 

Using books to fight a territorial conflict

Mr. Jung’s phone is calling all the time. “It’s going to be a busy day today,” he says. He is a journalist at Korea Times, specially covering the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade. The Japanese ambassador is called by the foreign minister of Korea. Recently, Japanese media have reported that a group of islands that Korea sees as their is going to be mentioned in Japanese school books for middle school social studies classes as Japanese territory.

 

The group of islands that is called Dokdo in Korean, Takeshima in Japanese, and Liancourt Rocks in English, is situated in the sea between Korea and Japan. The sea is called East Sea from Korean point of view and Sea of Japan from the Japanese side. The dispute over the islets can be traced back to pre-modern times.

 

In 1905, when Japan occupied Korea, they also occupied the islands. After the Second World War there was an instruction telling that the islands should be given back to Korea, but in the final Peace Treaty of San Francisco, they were not mentioned.

 

The islands are still a hot topic. And an emotional topic.

 

Some weeks ago, I had coffee with some students at Konkuk University in Seoul. They were discussing a lot of political issues, and after a while, they asked me: “What do you think about Dokdo?” At the time, I had no clue what Dokdo was.

 

The student explained that the group of islands have always belonged to Korea, but Japan is trying to get hold of the islands because the want the sea to fish in. And that the people living on the islands are Korean. Simple calculation: The islands should belong to Korea.  

 

When googling on the islands, I read that the islands are uninhabited, except for a small Korean police detachment, administrative personnel and lighthouse staff.  

 

Just after the news about Japanese text books, the Korea Dokdo Reasearch Center, which is a governmental institute, has been telling media that they are composing a report in English titled “Was Dokdo really Japanese Territory?” They are also planning to translate 14 essays that are arguing that Dokdo is Korean territory into English and publish them in a book in October.

 

The text books and the publications in English in Korea are just few in a long line of material on the islands. The examples are many. In Japan, there are brochure released by the Japanese foreign minister. In Matsue, a “Takeshima Day” is celebrated once a year. In Korea, there is a project on promoting the islands trough media corporations like National Geographic, letting them show the history, geography and natural resources. 

 

 

Seoul. May 21, 2008

With the mission to stop a nuclear war

“We are in an extremely dangerous situation right now,” is one of the first things Steven says to me when I meet him and his colleague Shiotani Norio in Seoul Station.

They have been dragging around their suitcases for an hour, not managing to get a free coin locker, even though they have been guarding the lockers in case someone should come and pick their luggage up. It annoys Steven, but he keeps on speaking.

“We think that there is a big risk that nuclear weapons will be used this year,” he says.

I first met Steven when I was an exchange student in Hiroshima. He had just become chairman of Hiroshima Peace Culture Foundation. The organisation is based on the A-bomb experience of the city, aiming at contributing to world peace and human welfare trough building peace culture. The work is done trough information, such as Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, other exhibitions and lectures, as well as trough international exchanges. Currently, the foundation is focusing on getting more members to the Hiroshima based organisation Mayors for Peace and a touring A-bomb exhibition in the United States.

But what Steven seems to be most concerned about is the risk of a nuclear war.

Fear of a nuclear war

We find the food court and Steven and Shiotani can finally be relieved from their suitcases, parking them next to the table. As soon as we have gotten our food, Steven resumes speaking about the worrying situation in the world. He points out the growing competition for oil and other recourses, saying it is causing a disruption in the economical framework.

”It is happening very fast right now. And it is very similar to the 20th century when the British Empire fell apart,” Steven says.

The British Empire tried to hold onto smaller states to stay in control. To Steven, what we see in the world today are effects of that the U.S. empire is falling apart. States as Afghanistan and Iraq are prompting for independence, and the U.S. is losing its control. Based on the experiences in the 20th century, this can be a sign that we are heading towards serious violence.

”What we are really afraid of is that it could lead to the use of nuclear weapons,” Steven says.

Steven almost hasn’t touched his food. He just holds the chopsticks in his hand, as if being prepared to eat.

Steven and the foundation are not alone about their fear. In the US, people like Scott Ritter, a former UN weapons inspector to Iraq, Seymour Hersh from the New Yorker, and Jacqueline Cabasso, one of the leading peace activists in the US, are finding it likely that United States will attack Iran.

”They think that the US will bomb Iran to destroy their nuclear weapons,” Steven sights.

What then could happen is that there would be some kind of revenge. That in turn could lead to that the U.S. enter Iran and, once again, face a dead end just as in Iraq.

”We would find ourselves again confronting a force that is too much for us. Then, at that point, we will use nuclear weapon in trying to defeat the top of the elite in Iran,” Steven says.

Steven is afraid that once the nuclear weapons are used, there will be an escalation in the usage.

Lobbying that gives result

Although the alarming situation, Steven can see positive developments. Last year, Barack Obama clearly stated that U.S. should make an effort to build a nuclear free world.

”That is an effect of lobbying,” says Steven and finally picks up some pickles from the side plates. He starts eating the rest of his food, too, but keeps on speaking between the bites.

Peace activists in the U.S. didn’t use to raise their voices against nuclear policies. But now they are starting. Furthermore, there has been an editorial in the Wall Street Journal in January two years in a row, where Henry Kissinger and George Shiels, both former Sercratries of State under Republicans, William Perry, from the Defence Department and Sam Nunn, head of the Arm Service Committee, stated that it is time to illuminate nuclear weapons.

Steven sees the weapon industry as the biggest obstacle to this development. There is a lot of money being made on nuclear weapons.

Focusing on the future

When I come home the same evening, I tell my friend Su-jeong Kim, with whom I am living, about Steven. She gets interested at once, starting to ask me questions about how Steven, as an American, can have become chairman of a Japanese peace organisation. After all, it was the Americans that bombed the city.

The next day, Su-jeong calls me. She is a journalist, working in one of the leading newspapers in Korea, and she wants to write about Steven. The same night, we meet up with Steven and Shiotani. Su-jeong is eager to ask questions, confronting Steven with all her feelings of contradictions..

Steven explains that the president of Hiroshima Peace Culture Foundation is the mayor of the city, Tadatoshi Akiba. His main concern is the need of reconciliation, meaning that people have to work together for the future past to overcome what happened.

“In a way, I am sort of an evidence of that Hiroshima works that way, that Japanese and Americans are working together to eliminate the use of nuclear weapons,” he says.

10,000 Koreans died in 1945 when the A-bomb hit Hiroshima. Most of the victims were taken to Japan as forced labour during the Japanese occupation of Krorea. Su-jeong is critical to that the history of the occupation is not more extensively mentioned in the Peace Museum in Hiroshima.

Steven agrees that the Korean victims have not been recognised enough, but at the same time, he is following majors Akiba’s way of thinking.

“I think that if we start talking about the Korean history and Chinese history, it leads us immediately to Western colonisation, and that would make us blame the US, and that is not our goal,” says Steven.

Instead, the foundation wants to focus on the problem of today: The need to stop an escalation of the use of nuclear weapons.

“I think it is very difficult for you to illuminate nuclear weapons,” Su-jeong opposes.

Steven nods.

“But the main problem is America,” he says.

To Steven, America is the only country that is trying to dominate the world. Even countries like China, Russia and India are willing to illuminate their weapons, but then the US also has to do it. What Steven is looking for, is someone to put a pressure on George Bush.

“If just someone that he trusts could tell him not to use nuclear weapons within this year, we could be safe,” Steven says eagerly.

Just a month ago, president Myung-bak Lee of Korea met Bush. The Korean newspapers were filled with photos of the two of them together, laughing and waving to the cameras. Lately, the Korean and the Japanese president Yasuo Fukoda are also getting closer. Steven sees that as a possibility.

“If only the Korean and Japanese presidents together could tell Bush not to use nuclear weapons, prompting on their close position to North Korea, it could be a big step on the way,” Steven says.

The following Sunday, Su-jeong leans over the breakfast table, showing me a full page in the newspaper. It is her article about Steven.

“It was a hard work for me, I really needed to try to focus on what he wanted to say to Korean people,” she says. Then she is pointing at the title of the article, translating it as: “South Korea and Japan should work together to illuminate nuclear weapons.”

Seoul. May 4, 2008

Everyone’s Olympics

The big lawn in front of the city hall in Seoul has turned into a sea of red flags.

“Go China go,” is the constant sound from that sea.

The Olympic torch is on its way through Seoul and more than 5,000 Chinese students, from different universities all over Korea, have gathered in Seoul to show their support.

“We have already been waiting for four hours,” says Lili.

It is four in the afternoon and the Olympic torch is planned to arrive any minute. Lili leans out from the sidewalk to be able to see well. A Chinese flag is covering her shoulders. Lili came to Korea to study in an University in Daejeon four years ago. It takes about four hours with the train from her university to Seoul, so Lili and her friends arrived already last night. This morning, they were up early to find a good place in the Olympic Village where the 24 km long torch relay started.

Suddenly, busses with barred windows drive up and stop in front of us. The doors open and policemen are flooding out. They line up like a wall along the sidewalk. Lili don’t think that they will move, so we get down in the metro to chance side of the road. Once up in the fresh air again, we can see about 30 busses lined up along the whole road. China has especially asked for big security around the relay due to the protests that have occurred around the world.

“There were some people who protested in the Olympic Village but they disappeared pretty soon,” says Lili.

She thinks it was because of the presence of so many Chinese students.

From other parts of Seoul, reports come about that Chinese students have been throwing stones and water bottles towards anti-China demonstrators, and a reporter has been hit in the head by one of the stones.

Around the City Hall I have only seen three people in t-shirts with the print “Free Tibet.” Instead, it is the Chinese students that carry the messages. There are banderols with the texts: “Tibet has, is and will always be a part of China”, “The Olympic Games in Beijing will absolutely succeed” and t-shirts with the print “We suport Beijing Olympics. We support China”. One of the most common messages seems to be “One world, one dream,” visible on both banderols and t-shirts.

A girl comes up to us and gives us some pennants and stickers with Chinese flags. Lili smiles at her and sticks a flag onto her cheek.

“I am happy so many have come to support our country,” she says.

Lili is getting cold. She asks me what time it is. It is almost seven. The torch is already three hours delayed. Then, suddenly, a helicopter comes flying over the City Hall. Lili starts jumping up and down. Again, people start shouting:

“Go China go.”

Lili is shouting, too.

Finally, the torch arrives, surrounded by a crowd. We can only see the flame over the heads of the people in the crowd. Hundreds of policemen have been trained specially to run along the torch relay runners trough Seoul. Lili reaches up her camera in the sky, trying to catch what is happening. Then she looks down on her watch, realizing she needs to catch her train. Tomorrow she has to be back in her classes in the university in Deajeon. Lili takes my hand and says:

“You know, it is not our Olympics, it is everyone’s.”

Then she is off.

The day after I am drinking coffee with a journalist from a big Korean radio station who has to report on the torch relay. He finds it hard, because he was not out in the streets. But still, he has been watching tv and read newspapers. He stays silent for a while, then he says:

“This is Seoul. That a lot of Chinese students use violence here is not right. They have to be prosecuted in some way.”

 

Seoul. April 28, 2008

From Space, Korea is united

Koreas’ first astronaut So-yeon Yi is dreaming about an united country. This Saturday she landed in Kazakhstan after 11 days in space.

So-yeong has become a part of the history as the first Korean astronaut in space. The proudness over her can be seen in the streets of Seoul. During her journey, there have been several exhibitions on the theme and she has constantly been in the news.

In an interview, made right after the landing in Kazakhstan, So-yeong describes her impressions from space:

“The Korean Peninsula I saw from space was one and united. The sight of the peninsula before I entered the Soyuz capsule still lingers in my mind.”

She also says that she is looking forward to come home to Korea and share her experiences with the public.

Seoul. April 21, 2008

Inga deadlines, regler eller riktlinjer. Bara framtid.

– Vad ska du bli när du blir stor då, frågar Jan.

Vi har jobbat tillsammans i två månader i Säfsen, en skidort i södra Dalarna. Jan är fråntrakten och har stått i liften, jag har jobbat som skidlärare. Nu står vi vid sidan av dansgolvet. Det är avslutningsfest för säsongen. Alla dansar.

– Jag är redan stor, svarar jag.

Jag förklarar för Jan att jag tog magisterexamen i Peace- and Conflict Studies vid Malmö högskola i januari. Det jag vill göra nu är att skriva, jag vill bli journalist. Därför åker jag till Seoul i Sydkorea för att göra praktik på JoongAng Ilbo, en av deras största dagstidningar.

– Journalister Ida, det finns ingen som kontrollerar dem, säger Jan med upprörd röst.

Jag berättar för Jan om fredsjournalistik. Jag tror att journalister aldrig kan vara objektiva, aldrig stå utanför samhället och deras processer. Jag tycker att det är bättre att se och erkänna det. Eftersom journalister alltid påverkar samhällsutvecklingen kan de välja att vara en del av den positiva utvecklingen och främja fredsprocesser.

Jan är inte upprörd längre. Istället ler han
stort.

– Kan inte du lova mig att du startar en tidning med sån journalistik, säger han.

Någon kommer och rycker i mej och vill att jag ska dansa. Jag säger att jag kommer sen. När jag vänder mig om igen har Jan lutat sig mot en dörrkarm. Han ser fundersam ut. Det är samma fundersamhet som jag såg i min mammas ögon dagen innan, när det var dags att säga hej då.

– Fast jag kommer ju tillbaka hit, skyndar jag mig att säga.

Det får Jan att le igen.

Sedan jag slutade på Malmö högskola har jag börjat inse att allt jag gör räknas. Jag behöver inte jobba åtta timmar om dagen fem dagar i veckan med det jag är utbildad till. Om jag mår bra av att jobba som skidlärare några månader om året så ska jag göra det. Däremellan kan jag nå precis så långt som jag vill. Det finns ingen som bestämmer över hur jag lägger upp mitt liv. Jag har inga deadlines, regler eller riktlinjer att följa. Bara mina egna drömmar.

Jans fru kommer fram till oss. De ska gå hem. Jan kramar om mig. Eftersom musiken är hög håller han kvar mig en stund och sträcker sig mot mitt öra för att säga:

– Du är framtiden Ida.

Kanske låter det som stora ord. Men det är precis vad vi alla är. Vi är framtiden, och vi gör framtiden till precis vad vi vill.

Fredriksberg. 14 april, 2008

Publicerad i Mahskara

Hiroshima – Lindesberg – Hiroshima

 

Idag lämnade Lindesbergs kommuns ordförande Anders Larsson över ansökan om stadens medlemskap i Mayors for Peace till Hiroshimas borgmästare Tadatoshi Akiba. Mayors for Peace är en värdsomspännande organisation som jobbar för en värld fri från kärnvapen genom att låta städer i stället för stater ta ställning. 

Allting började när Anita Lindgren, lokal företagare i Lindesberg, etablerade en kontakt med Hiroshima genom sitt arbete med beröringsmetoden taktil stimulering som används inom demensvård. Kontakten har sedan växt, och blivit till ett långtgående utbyte. Lindesberg har haft besök av en grupp från Hiroshima och även av Toshiaki Inasishi, journalist på The Asashi Shimbun som är den näst största dagstidningen i Japan. Toshiaki skrev en rad artiklar om hur demensvården fungerar i Sverige, med fokus på Lindesbergs kommun. 

För bara några dagar sedan åkte den första gruppen från Lindeberg till Hiroshima tillsammans med Anders Larsson. 

Det är svårt att besöka Hiroshima och inte fundera på Hiroshimas historia och det budskap staden har till världen idag. Många i Hiroshima jobbar aktivt med att låta Hiroshima bli ett budskap oom fred istället för om krig och onska. Det är ständingt nya konferenser och möten på gång. Det finns flera fredsforskningsinstitut och många fredsinriktade organisationer. Borgmästaren Akiba försöker alltid ta chansen att träffa grupper som besöker Hiroshima för att prata med dem om fred och om Hiroshimas budskap. 

Mayors for Peace startade 1982 när Hiroshimas dåvarande borgmästare Takeshi Araki presenterade organisationen på den andra UN Special Session on Disarmament. Han menade att städer kan jobba tillsammans över staters gränser och på så vis snabbare nå ett globalt medvetande emot kärnvapen. 1991 fick Mayors for Peace Special Consultative Status i FN och idag organisationen 2195 medlemmar. 

Många inom organisationen är mycket glada för Lindesbergs medlemskap. Det är det tredje i Sverige. Bara Stockholm och Malmö är medlemmar, men ingen av städerna har varit aktiva på många år. 

Utbytet mellan Lindesberg och Hiroshima är fokuserat på erfarenhehter och praktik men Anders Larsson hoppas att det ska leda till fler kontakter mellan städerna i framtiden. 

 

Lindesberg. 8 April, 2008

A wall is torn down

The first topics on the evening news seem not to be able to make me interested. I am tired after a long day, and I just cannot register anything more. I leave the tv for a short while. When I return, the screen is showing images of a street filled of people. The reporter speaks about reunification. Since can’t understand what it is about, I quickly ask my sister, who has been watching the news the whole time. 

“Cyprus,” she replies.

The images are showing people walking in the Ledras-street in Nicosia. A street that has been blocked as a part of the division of Cyprus the last 44 years. 

The reporter speaks about difficulties, that it is still a long way to go. After such a long time, the division has reached into people’s minds, created us and them. But still, a wall is torn down. There are many left in the world, but one wall that has been dividing people by keeping them from meeting each other is gone. That gives me hope. 

 

Sälen. April 4, 2008

35 mark för en ren lägenhet

Alfredos köket är fult av disk sen flera dagar. När jag reser mej upp från hans orangea soffa och börja plocka ihop vår disk säger han: 

– Jag har städerska, låt det vara. 

Alfredo verkar se hur förvånad jag blir och säger: 

– Jag har levt utan det, men varför inte nu när jag kan. 

Alfredo jobbar med att samla bevis mot krigsförbrytare under kriget i Bosnien och Hercegovina 1991-1995. Han kom till Sarajevo för två år sedan som nyexaminerad advokat med mänskiga rättigheter som speciallitet. Nu bor han i en stor lägenhet och kör en silverglänsande bil med diplomatnummerplåtar, precis som de flesta andra som jobbar i Sarajevo för någon internationell organisation. De kallas “internationella” – det syns och märks vilka de är.  

När jag vaknar nästa morgon är det full fart i Alfredos lägenhet. Städerskan rumlar runt bland all disk i köket samtidigt som hon tvättmaskinen igång och torkar tvätt i ett annat rum. Jag mumlar god morgon och får ut mjölken ur kylen. När jag sätter mej ner vid köksbordet gör hon mej sällskap. Vi sitter mittemot varandra och skalar äpplen. Hennes äpple är från hennes trädgård, mitt är från den lilla affären på andra sidan gatan.  

Städerskan kommer varje onsdag. På måndagar städar hon åt Joost från Holland, på tisdagar åt Jane från USA och på torsdagar åt Marcello från Italien.  

– Marcello tycker jag bäst om, säger hon och skär loss en stor bit skal från sitt äpple.  

Marcello är snäll och lämnar inte så mycket disk som Alfredo gör. Dessutom har han bättre smak. Städerskan gillar inte Alfredos nya orangea soffa. Den är så svår att hålla ren. 

Städerskan kommer tidigt till Alfredo varje tisdag, precis när han har gått till jobbet. Det är mycket hon ska hinna med. Det ska diskas, tvättas, dammsugas, dammas, golven ska torkas, toaletten ska skuras, skjortor ska strykas och nya lakan ska i sängen. Det tar henne från åtta på morgonen till fram på eftermiddagen att bli klar med allt. För det väntar henne 35 bosniska mark på vardagsrumsbordet. Det är cirka 160 svenska kronor.   

– 4 mark går till att ta mej hit och hem, säger hon och lägger ifrån sig kniven hon skalat äpplet med. Sedan berättar hon om sin son som är gift och har flyttat, men den andra sonen bor hemma för han förlorade sina ben i kriget. Det är svårt att få pengarna från städandet att räcka till.  

– Först kriget, och sedan det här, säger hon tar en tugga av äpplet.  

 Städerskan har köpt nya disktrasor till Alfredo. 

– De gamla var så äckliga, säger hon.  

Hon ber mig att tala om för Alfredo att hon har köpt de billigaste för bara 3 mark. Jag reser mig från bordet, samlar ihop mina saker och gör mig klar för att gå. Jag lägger ytterligare 5 mark på de 35 som redan ligger på vardagsrumsbordet. Disken vi lämnade där igår är borta. Städerskan börjar genast leta efter växel. Jag säger till henne att jag inte vill ha växeln. Under tiden jag knyter på mej skorna och öppnar dörren hinner hon tacka mig fyra gånger för de extra två marken och fråga om jag kommer vara där nästa vecka.  

–  Jag vill ta med bakelser till dig, säger hon.  

 

Sarajevo. 3 oktober, 2007

Publicerad i Mahskara

Inrikes tåg över gränser

Det är mörkt i Hiroshima. Jag sitter vid floden, precis vid atombombsdomen. Byggnaden är en symbol för Hiroshima, den var en av de få byggnaderna i Hiroshima som det blev något kvar av när Hiroshima träffades av atombomben 1945. 

- Ida, hör jag plötsligt någon ropa. HyeonJeong kommer springande längst floden.  

Jag kom till Hiroshima i April som utbytesstudent. HyeonJeong från Sydkorea blev snabbt en av mina bästa vänner. Då visste jag bara att det varit krig i Korea, att det är delat och att Nordkorea har kärnvapen. HyeonJeong fick mej att bli intresserad av Korea, och när vi slutade terminen slutade åkte en vän och jag dit.  

Jag fiskar upp ett foto ur min väska och ger till HyeonJeong. Hon tittar länge på det.  

- Det är från den demilitariserade zonen, säger jag.  

Mellan Nord- och Sydkorea finns ett 4 km brett mellanrum, en demilitariserad zon. Som Sydkoreansk medborgare är HyeonJeong inte tillåten att åka dit. När vi åkte till Sydkorea sa HyeonJeong att vi måste åka till dit. Vi som kan. 

HyeonJeong lutar sej framåt. Ljuset från atombombsdomen lyser upp fotot. Det är taget p tågstationen Dorasan, 56 km norr om Seoul, Sydkoreas huvudstad. Idag är stationen den sista stationen i Sydkorea, men stationen är byggt med hopp om att tåg ska börja gå mellan Seoul och Pyeonyang, Nordkoreas huvudstad.  

 På fotot finns en skylt med avgångstider för tåg som än inte går. Det står både Seoul och Pyeonyang på den. HyeonJeong flämtar till. I hela hennes liv har Korea varit delat och hon har aldrig träffat en människa från Nordkorea.  

HyeonJeong sitter tyst en stund, sedan tittar hon upp. I ljuset från atombombsdomen ser jag hur hon ler med tårar rinnande ner för kinderna.     

- Det står att även tåget till Pyeonyang är inrikes, säger hon. 

 

Hiroshima. 23 augusti 2007

Publicerad i Mahskara

The beginning of the world

“Here they are,” says Melika and pulls up the blinder in the dinning hall of the House of Trust, a peace building NGO in Srebrenica. Six police cars drives up in front of the municipality with the blue lights on. They are followed by big black cars with tint windows. All with black number plates with yellow letters  – cars with diplomat status.

The cars come from the embassies of Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Libya, and Palestinian territories. They are coming to Srebrenica to discuss how Srebrenica can get a special political status in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

In July 1995, about 8000 Muslims or Bosniacs were killed during a few days by Bosnian Serb forces in Srebrenica. The massacre has become a symbol for the violence during the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina in the 1990s. Later in 1995, the Dayton Peace Agreement was signed of the warring parties and the country was split into two entities. The federation has Bosniac/Craotian majority and the Republic of Srpska has Serbian majority. Today, Srebrenica belongs to the Republic of Srpska. After that the sentence of the International Court of Justice in Haague that made Bosnian Serb forces guilty for the genocide in 1995, a group of Muslims in the town has demanded that Srebrenica no longer should belong to the Republic of Srpska, but get a special independent status.

“This is politics in Srebrenica,” says Melika. “A lot of people are coming for a day and discusses our future without asking us about it, and then they leave.”

Melika points at a man with a camera on the opposite side of the street. He is a foreign journalist. We observe him discovering a group of women with patterned scarves covering their hair. Several journalists have already gathered by the women. He joins the other journalistst and starts taking photos.

“He takes picture of what he expects to see here,” Melika says and pulls down the blinder again.

The door to the dinning hall opens and Amir enters. He makes a comment about the police cars while Melika brings him coffee. Amir moved to Srebrenica from Tuzla four years ago to work for Musicians Without Borders. He is running a drum orchestra with children from the town. The orchestra has become very good. They often go to other towns for performances.

Once a British journalist wanted to watch when Amir was practicing with the orchestra. She recorded the practice and afterwards she wanted to ask questions. The first thing she asked was how many Serbs and how many Muslims there were in the group.

“She could have asked anything, how many of the children have electricity at home or how they have learned how to play so well, “ says Amir.

 Some days ago, Melika arranged a lunch for women who lost their families during the war. Around 60 women came and they stayed long, they were eating and dancing together without caring about who was Muslim and who was Serb. Melika had called journalists because she wanted them to see the women as something else than victims. No one came.

“No one seems to care about that this is how peace is built, not trough high political decisions,” she says.

Amir and Melika sight. Politics and media focus on ethnicity while the people in Srebrenica tries to focus to move on. Srebrenica is being used to achieve political goals, but no one really knows how life is in the town. Everyone that comes leaves quickly again.

In the youth centre, Ljubiša is checking news on the internet. He is quickly reading trough the articles he finds about Srebrenica and continues to the next homepage. Some years ago, Ljubiša and his friends built up the centre by themselves. They were tired not to have anything to do, so they took spades and picks and started to build up the old theatre in Srebrenica that was left in ruins. Today, they have a fully equipped centre with internetcafé and a big stage where local bands often practice. Moreover, Ljubiša and his friends can get some paid for the work they do.

“We are just trying to build some sort of normal life, but then someone who does not live in Srebrenica come and decides something about politics,” says Ljubiša and stops reading the news. He turns on music and logs into the centre’s forum instead. Outside the window the police cars drives by with their blue lights turned on. The streets in Srebrenica turn empty again.

Mikica, who also works in the centre, enters. She teases Ljubiša and then starts  puttin up a big white flip chart on the wall. Today they are going to have a meeting about the festival Silvertown Shine that takes place once a year. Bands from whole ex-Yugoslavia come to perform in Srebrenica.

Mikica is tired of the focus on the history of Srebrenica. She wants to look forward. Mikica often goes to seminars all over Bosnia and Herzegovina to make new contacts and talk about the work in Srebrenica. She wants to change the reputation of the town from being seen as the end of the world to something new, a town where people actually lives.

Mikica asks me to hold the tape for her. Then she takes the lid of a pen and starts writing the results from a survey that has been sent out to youth organisations in the whole country about the festival. Many have heard about the festival, many have visited it, and many plan to come this year. Mikica puts on the lid of the pen again and turns towards me.

“You see, she says, this is not the end of the world. It is the beginning.“

 

Srebrenica. March 12, 2007