My little country
A little place, a handful peace
Tossed out among fells and fjord
Another day, another meeting. These week-long conferences were a bore, it always felt like they lasted longer than the seven days that were announced. Whoever had decided a seven-day conference was a good idea anyways? Saturday and Sunday meetings were decidedly unpopular, no one wanted a meeting during the week-end, apart from the one who scheduled them of course. Probably just as well that they were not told who did it, the guy would have been lynched.
They were currently having a ten-minutes coffee break and Norway was having a pleasant conversation with England about how annoying queues are.
When the break ended everyone found their seats and sat down in silence, and then the meeting started again. It was a smaller meeting of course, or it wouldn't have been so silent. The clock showed 15.20 in large black numbers, and England was presenting the latest statistics on international economic growth. Norway looked up from his notes for a moment, glancing around the room.
Germany was sitting on his left, diligently writing notes, neat rows of letters in black in across the white paper. On the other side of Germany sat Japan, he too taking notes, some in English, some in his own kanji. On the other side of the table was Netherlands, who had pushed his chair back on two legs and chewed thoughtfully on his unlit pipe. Beside him were Ukraine. The sweet woman had placed a basket of new-baked bread on the table and smilingly urged them to eat. On her left, in front of Norway, was Switzerland, his rifle leant towards the back of his chair while he concentrated on England's speech. The eighth person in the room was Poland who didn't pay as much attention to England as he did to his nails where he was painting a new layer of bright pink nail polish.
He turned back to England and continued taking notes. Then, suddenly, he felt a pain in his chest, almost like he was shot. It took him by surprise and he reflexively curled up to protect himself, which caused him to hit his head on the table with a loud bang. He spit an angry curse, but immediately regretted in in favour of keeping his mouth shut and fighting down the nausea.
"Norway? Are you okay?" England asked, his only answer being a groan as Norway pressed his throbbing forehead against the cold table. He slowly straightened up, both of his arms crossed over his chest and his hands pressed against his heart. The clock showed 15.26.
"My apologies," Norway said, wincing slightly as he pressed down harder on the general area of his heart. The pain was not so great now, he could almost ignore it, but the insistent burning was annoying. "Does anyone here have an internet connection?"
"No" was the answer from the others.
"Norway?" Germany asked, half turned in his chair, "What happened?" Norway shook his head slowly.
"I do not know," he answered. He closed his eyes and took a few calm breaths, distantly hearing a lone panicked voice, sirens, smelled the dust in the air, and then he was back in the meeting. "An explosion maybe, in Oslo. I am sure they would call me if it was important." Germany nodded and England reluctantly continued his presentation, but not without a worried glance at Norway, who stared back with his usual poker-face.
A while later he received an sms.
Bomb in Regjeringskvartalet. PM and King safe. Est. 10 casualties, 12 injured hospitalized. Airport, trams, busses running. Unknown perpetrator(s).
Shocking, yes. Horrifying, yes. Unexpected, definitively. Impossible to live with and accept? No. Worse things had happened in the past. That does not mean it is not horrible, but it happens. Bombs happens. It is not going to destroy him. His police will find the persons responsible and they will be suitably punished. Worse things had happened and he had survived. Just a bomb. Nothing major. It will be fine. He will survive. He will be fine. Absolutely fine-
"-rway? Norway!"
"Ja?" he responded, cheeks faintly pink in embarrassment. Everyone were looking at him with concern. Or curiosity. Or a glare, in Switzerland's case.
"Are you sure you are fine?" England asked, staring at him with furrowed brows. Giant furrowed eyebrows.
"Yes, of course, I'm just f- " the sentence was abruptly cut off as a scene of terrified teens running through a campground flashed before his eyes. He paled as he watched wide eyed faces contort in terror. Everything was muted, and he was painfully aware of his the beat of his heart.
Then he was back to the meeting room again, pain burning in his chest and adrenaline coursing through his veins as his instincts told him to flee. He did not flee far, he caught himself before he exited the room, pressing his back into a corner and breathing deeply trying to calm down. An irrational fear clouded his mind, a fog screaming at him to run, flee, hide. Irrational because there was nothing in the room he needed to hide from.
The others were on their feet, Germany and England closest to him. Ukraine's hands were clasped nervously in front of her, Poland was staring at him as if he was crazy. Switzerland had his gun up with the safety catch off, alternately glaring at Norway and staring suspiciously at the door, Netherlands was doing much the same, covering the window with a gun he had pulled out of somewhere. Japan stepped forward to join England and Germany, but they all made sure to keep their distance from Norway.
Eventually he lifted his head, his face pale and his eyes unusually wide.
"I'm under attack," he whispered, struggling to force words past the lump in his throat. He shook his head violently.
Just at that moment the door banged open and a white blur flew in with a cry of "Noregur!" Norway straightened up and tried to balance himself properly, but was slammed into the wall by his little brother, who proceeded to hug him.
Not to say that Norway had not waited for this day forever, but as his brother clung to him he was starting to feel a little… creeped out.
"Island, what's happening?" he asked, hesitantly wrapping his arms around the smaller Nordic.
"Go to hell," Iceland mumbled into his shirt, "Don't pretend you don't know."
"I do not know what you ar-"
"I felt it. I felt it Noregur. It hurt me."
"Little brother, I am so sorry…"
"Don't." the younger brother snapped. Denmark coughed behind them.
"Norway, what is on Utøya?"
"... why?"
"Your newspaper… says there is shots fired there."
"No. God no." Norway hid his face in his brother's hair.
"Norway, what is on Utøya? Why would anyone attack there?" Sweden asked, trying to get Norway to face the situation.
"... Ap's youth camp… There should be five or six hundred teens there now. Please pardon me, I need to make a phone call." He carefully extracted himself from Iceland's thight (read 'crushing') embrace. When he came back in looked tired. Old.
"There is nothing I can do," he said to the other Nordics. "I can only sit and wait." And he dumped into his seat, set his elbows on the table and leant his face into his hands. The others in the room approached him, patting him on the shoulder, the back, offering their condolences. Other nations trickled in as they heard the news, and his family stayed with him through it all.
His phone rang and he snatched it up, holding it to his ear.
"Ja?" he acknowledged the one on the other end. "Fortsett. Jeg forstår. Ja. Sees, ha det." He stared at the phone for a long time, while Iceland rubbed his back. Then he sighed and stood up. All eyes immediately fell on him. "There has, as you know, been an attack in Norway. A bomb in Oslo, and a shooting at a youth camp. The police has arrested one man who claims responsibility for both actions. The man is a … he is a Norwegian national…" A deep shuddering breath. "Anyways, I am going home now and I will be absent for the rest of this conference. Please excuse me."
He was followed by his family. First to the airport. Then, after a short argument, they followed him into the plane. They would not leave him for the next week and a half. He was barely allowed to the toilet alone. It did not really bother him, it was a relief to not be alone, to have someone around him.
They went to the "rose march". They went to the concert. And that is where the dam broke. Norway stood with his family, listening to his people sing, and tears trailed down his cheeks.
"Surrounded by enemies,
Enter your time!
During a storm of blood
Devote yourself to fight!
Maybe you ask in fear,
unprotected , open:
What am I fighting with
What is my weapon?
Here is your shield against violence,
Here is your sword:
THe belief in our lives,
The worth of mankind.
For all our future's sake,
Seek it and nurse it,
Die if you must - but
Enhance and strengthen it!"
They sang the song to it's end, all fourteen verses. They held roses up to the sky and sang together.
"A sky full of stars,
Blue ocean as far as you can see,
An Earth where flowers grow,
Can you wish for more?
Together we will live,
Each sister and each brother,
Little children of the rainbow,
And of an fertile Earth."
It is strange, the solace one can find in song. The act of singing together, songs that everyone know. Or write a new song, to process what has happened.
"My grey hoodie is matched by the slush "Den grå hoodien min er matcha med sørpen
The concrete here is emotionless Betongen her er følelsesløs
The blocks of flats we live in are suffocated by fog Og blokkene vi bor i er kvalt i tåke
I'm a peacock" Jeg er en påfugl"
The Nordics followed him home afterwards. Sweden went to the kitchen to make dinner and Denmark and Finland disappeared to somewhere. Iceland and Norway ended up sitting in the living room, listening to music. Norway did not speak much in that period right after the attack. But he did not need to either. His people did it for him, and he rose on their national pride.
"We have chosen to meet cruelty with closeness. We have chosen to meet hate with unity. We have chosen to show what we stand for," Crown Prince Haakon.
"Hate is a nearby feeling. The wish for revenge is a natural reaction. But we, Norway, will not hate, and we will not avenge," Eskil Pedersen.
"Evil can kill a man, but never conquer a people," Jens Stoltenberg, Prime Minister.
"If one man can show so much hate, think of all the love we all can show together," Helle Gannestad, AUF.
"We won't be shot to silence," AUF.
"An attack on political participation is an attack on our democracy," Jens Stoltenberg.
"We will retaliate with more democracy," Jens Stoltenberg.
"They don't want to be mourned to death,
But live in bravery and faith.
Only in courageous hearts
Runs the blood of the fallen," Nordahl Grieg
"We are so few in this country, each fallen is brother and friend," Nordahl Grieg.
And in the end he won. His people won. He kept to his ideals, he followed his laws. The perpetrator, the terrorist was sentenced to 21 years in prison for terrorism. There is no way in heaven or hell that one man could make him change or disregard the law.
"I saw you in the street yesterday
When the city lay cold and large
I saw you were new in life
And I saw you were new in the North
And you mother carried a suitcase
With everything she owned in it
And you carried her dream
Of someday being free
And you gave me a smile,
Butterfly in Winterland
No one can take from you
The colors you showed me
And must the dream you bear be true
Butterfly in Winterland"
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
Translations:
Noregur (icelandic) - Norway
Island (norwegian) - Iceland
Ja (norwegian) - Yes
Fortsett. Jeg forstår. Ja. Sees, ha det. (norwegian) - Continue. I understand. Yes. See you later, goodbye.
Historical/Cultural notes:
You probably, hopefully, got this by now, but I'll say it anyways. This is a story about the terrorist attack in Norway on the 22. Of July 2011.
A Norwegian citizen named Ander Behring Breivik bombed the Regjeringskvartalet, where most of the government offices are located, including the Prime Minister's office. Luckily this was in July, Norway's holiday month, and it was a Friday afternoon, so most workers had already left the building. Eight people were killed and at least 209 injured.
The same man later made his way to the Labour Party's (Arbeiderpartiets) Youth Camp on an island called Utøya, he was dressed as a policeman. He shot at the people there, but spared an 11-year-old boy, who told him he was to young to die. 69 people died on the island, in the water around it or of injuries received in the attack. At least 110 wounded.
77 people were killed that day, most of them were young. The average age of those killed on Utøya is 20. The youngest was fourteen.
The dead were from 18 of Norway's 19 counties, and the injured were from every part of the country, including Svalbard.
It is said to be the worst thing that has happened in Norway since the Second World War. It is also the first terrorist attack in Norway, and hopefully the last.
A survey states that one in four Norwegians knows someone who was affected by the terror.
Author's notes:
I am not satisfied with this chapter, and I do not mean to offend anyone with it. Most of the songs I used are well known in Norway, except maybe the one in the beginning, "My little country" or "Mitt lille land" and "Påfugl" by Carpe Diem. The others are songs we are taught in school. Nordahl Grieg was a Norwegian journalist who died in 1942, when his plane was shot down during a bomb raid over Germany.
I remember the day it happened, I was in Russia at the time. We were watching the news, and everything was dubbed to Russian, but we saw the Norwegian flag, and we saw Obama speaking, and we saw Putin speaking, and we knew something was wrong. Later my dad received a text from my grandfather that sort of explained what was going on. I was too little at the time, so no one bothered explaining the whole thing to me.
It was not before I came back to school and the mother of one of the dead came and held a speech that I realized someone I knew had died. I admit that I did not know her well, but she was a person I looked up to, who always smiled at everyone. It was a bit of a shock.
Bad things happens in this world, and all we can do is to stay together and stay peaceful.
Live well,
Shrizyne