The little mermaid is
watching, her sinuous body clamped fast to the rock, the base
beaten by the waves of the Baltic sea.. I am in Copenhagen,
looking around for chillies, to flavor my asian taste buds.
Chillies that are packed in 29 Kroner packets, and stylishly
called "paprika".. I marvel at the varieties of Danish bread,
which the average householder savors with his Sunday newspaper,
fresh from the bakers oven, while the rest of the sun starved
populace, strips off , their clothes and basks on the greens. The
temperature is 21 degrees and one of the best days of spring. I am
one of the "ethnic minority’ wandering the streets of Norbro gade,
tasting delights like Lebanese shawarma (barbecued beef, rolled in
pita bread and yogurt sauce". don’t frown at me, like many a
foreign Nepali traveler, I forget beef is taboo, but lick my lips,
salivating at the medium rare. And do not take me for fake, I have
seen many an elite Ktahmanduite, polishing of the Friday night,
Summit Hotel barbecue, all in the name of it being the "in thing".
Mind you, RS 450 pax, with a 25% discount for cardholders!
So excuse my fall from
faith. Then there are the cycles and the Danish parlors,
advertising a color of skin like mine what you can acquire under a
halogen lamp. Thank God the taxi drivers speak English, and safer
bet, that you call yourself Nepali, not Indian, otherwise you are
met with stoic silence, other than getting to know the travails of
his family, interspersed with "you know bibi... the lowest rate is
100 kroner an hour. I would not mind, forget me being development
specialist once in awhile. One cannot get lost, I have mastered
the blue card and the yellow card and the one klip, two klip
punches that herald your destination. The trains and the metro
proceed to places that are spelt with the O with a slash (I do not
have the letter on my computer and the AE, where you learn that
BORGERGADE is pronounced as BOGAL and that Entrettet does not mean
Enter, It means ONE way. I also learn how to say TAK (thank you)
that earns me a benign smile from the shop lady, and endears me to
their heart. That one word has profound implications, you just
have to know how to put in the correct phonetically wander in the
flea markets, where I can get an "antique" accordion camera for
36kroner, Christina - haven for the flower child, Hamlets castle
at Helsingbor, that is just 15 minutes by ferry to Sweden. I am in
another country, from where people come in ferryloads to buy the
wine/liquor at 3 STKs for 139 kroner!
Two ends of a contrast
that merge at the gardens of Tivoli - I am entertained by
violinists playing Slovenian serenades, to a huge barbecue, like
one of my colleagues said, the Danes defeat us with food! The
music has our neighbors tapping their feet, while one suddenly
gets up and treats us to a wild Russian fling. Swans on the fjord,
at Roskilde, where Queen Marguerite I, sunk ships loaded with
stones, to stop the marauders. Hot water in the taps and tourist
information phamplets professing" you can drink water straight
from the tap".
The fairy tale castles and
the pavement stones, polished by a million feet. Viking warlords,
steps of the Celtic heroes and steps of the modern Danes. All
sensations mingling in the crisp air, flashes of vibrant color,
the tulips and daffodils are in bloom. decorating the obelisk, the
headstone to Hans Christian Andersen’s grave. Gucci, Versace,
Guess and Louis Vuittion, vying for space among antique chest of
drawers and crystals, remnants of a much preserved past.
As I take the train to
Malmo, literally from under the sea, my ears pop with the pressure
build up and I emerge into the CENTRUM, noisy with the sound of
the band and speeches. It is Labor Day and while the Social
Democrats and the bourgeoisie - bystander and demonstrator
celebrate.
I see the processes of the
Sate in action. I learn of the freedom of speech, the right to
disagree to agree. That is the synergy. I am spectator to the
general Assembly of Mellemfolkeligh Samvirke (cooperation by the
people) , that I am attending at Borup School, Kobenhavn. While
the Manifesto is [presented, statements against the Iraq war and
the Danish Aid Policy are presented, we the 12 Policy Advisory
Board chairpersons from the South - put forth our suggestions and
objections. They are tabled, voted, amended and accepted, by
representatives of civil society, institutions, the general public
and politicians.
While we in our country
struggle with the peace negotiations, I get to read on the
Internet, while yogis are performed to solicit the intervention of
the Gods; the NGO campaign in Denmark takes off. It is
demonstration to make the Danish public and Parliament aware of
the need for development. It is a protest so that the youth of
Denmark can carry out OPERATIONS A DAY work. Last year they
collected 6.8 million kroner, so that the Ex- Camay children could
be educated! What says you about the nation state, while jigger
pokey continues, and the opposition creates a demand, have we
forgotten the thousands dead? the wailing widows, the orphaned
children, WORDS, Words, Words, while the common man still has to
think of feeding his family of six! While orphans of the conflict
become spectacles to the civil society curiosity, Will it be again
I wonder with the rains around the corner- the Kamiaya diaspora,
in the camps, the food shortage and age old long winded gender
discrimination, that will be the proposal pattern for development
aid? Will it be now another agitation , another call for national
bandh (how easy) that feeds on the depraved psyche , that can
snatch the bread from the mouth of the common man, one who has to
survive on dally wages to feed his migrated family. And I wonder
where is
Amon king of the Gods,
Lord of the Silent,
who comes to the voice of
the poor, who gives bread to who has none,
Father of the orphan
husband of the widow,
though the servant offends him, he is merciful...
