From Here On

FROM HERE ON

»From here on« Produced by Photo 1 International Students Danish School of Media and Journalism Spring 2014

Front cover: Giulia Mangione Back cover: Benedikt Ziegler

Chief editor: Felix von der Osten

© 2014

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FROM HERE ON

1. ALIENS AT HOME

by Philipp Jeske

2. FAITH HEALING

P. 68

by Benedikt Ziegler

10. NO SEX, THANKS

P. 60

by Sailendra Kharel

9. IN BETWEEN

P. 52

by Romana Manpreet

8. TREADING ON DREAMS

P. 44

by Daria Klimasheva

7. VANISHING GENERATION

P. 36

by Felix von der Osten

6. STRINGS OF SOUL

P. 28

by Emanuele Camerini

5. FISHING OUT THE FUTURE

P. 20

by Pascal Giese

4. WHERE TWO IS NOT ENOUGH

P. 12

by Andrea Arena

3. WHERE CHANCE TAKES YOU

P. 04

P. 76

by Giulia Mangione

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Aliens at Home Around 27% of Latvias population are Russians. This huge minority is integrated, but a lot of them cannot call the country their home although they were born there. However, they stay.

BY PHILIPP JESKE

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Oleg is looking at a statue of Christopherus, who, according to the legend, helped the Jesus child to cross the Daugava. On this shore the first houses of Riga emerged.

Now the river divides the city in a part with the historical Old Town and one with expensive business centers.

o, shell we watch some propaganda?“, the 74-year-old Valentina Konstantinovna Sergejeva asks me rhetorically before turning on the TV for the News of the channel „Rossiya“ (Russia). Shortly afterwards the state financed channel will be shut down by the Latvian government, the main channel will still remain on the television. „They are showing propaganda everywhere“, she says, meaning both „sides“ – Russia and the European Union. ­ ­Although it remains unclear how she could know that ­speaking only Russian in a country where Latvian only is the official ­language after the rejection of Russian by 74% in a referendum in 2012. However, 300.000 of the russian speaking aliens were not allowed to vote.

Not discriminated but separated Since her retirement Valentina Konstantinovna has been living in the district of Plavnieki, in the outskirts of Riga. She does not leave it often, and why should she? Walking though it you

All Russian noncitizens (more than 95 of the population) living in Latvia are marked as “aliens” in their passport. They are not allowed to vote and work in all professions, but since 2007 they can stay abroad in the whole EU without a visa for 90 days.

About 40% of Rigas population are e­ thnical Russians. The district “Plavnieki” in the outskirts of the capital city is supposed to have the highest percentage of Russians.

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hear mostly the Russian language while surrounded by panel houses which stand for the architectual style of the Soviet era.

So is the atmosphere in the streets of this quarter. Although there are a lot of supermarkets and fast food restaurant everywhere one can find a local bazar and some typical Babushkas (grandmothers) selling flowers at the bus station. This could be a Russian town, if it were not for the fact that unlike in Russia the public transport going to the city has a timetable.

Oleg, he just turned 28, works for the electric company of the state. He has just renovated his new apartment he bought with the help of his parents and is glad with his life situation. „I experienced discrimination only a few times“, he says. Recently, maybe because of the Crimea crisis, he wanted to pick up a friend from the hospital and nobody, „not even the doctor“, wanted to answer his questions. They must have heard in his pronunciation that he is an ethnical Russian, he believes.

Although he learned Latvian in school and speaks fluently, living his whole life in Riga, he is an alien according to his passport. As of 2014 there are 109 schools for minorities that use Russian as the language of instruction for 40% of subjects (the rest 60% of subjects are taught in Latvian), however Latvian government is planning to completely abolish Russian as the

language of instruction by 2018. “I started screaming through the whole hospital what this fascist shit is all about?”, he argues in that situation, but afterwards they apologized, he says.

At home but not a citizen “After Latvia got the independency, I had to prove, that I’m Latvian. I have to prove, that I’m loyal to the state. I was born in Latvia, spent all my life in Latvia and suddenly I have to prove, that I’m Latvian? What have I done wrong? Why should I? Latvia is a stepmother for me now”, Sergey Saushkin, 55, says. For him, to become a “full citizen” should not be that difficult. The 1991 law says that all people who came to the country after 1940 or are not direct descendants of such who have already been living there can apply for a citizenship after they go through a “naturalization program”, which means an exam consisting of questions about the Latvian language, history, culture and constitution. A lot of young people decide to do that, but still ca. 280.000 or 14 per cent of the latvian population are non-citizens. The majority (about 56%) of the Russians living in Latvia are also full citizens, but now they need a visa to enter the Russian Federation.

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Valentina Konstantinovna is buying everithing she needs in the Bazar in the center of Riga. It is cheaper then in a supermarket and everything is coming freshly from the local farmers.

There are 109 schools for minorities that use Russian as the language of instruction for 40% of subjects (the rest 60% of subjects are taught in Latvian), however Latvian government is planning to completely abolish Russian as the language of instruction by 2018.

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A woman is praying in a Russian Orthodox church in the center of Riga. The country’s Orthodox Christians belong to the Latvian ­Orthodox Church, a semi-autonomous body within the Russian Orthodox Church. “РУССКИЕ - ОБЬЕДЕНЯЙТЕСЬ”, “Russians - Unite” is written on one of the typical plate houses in Plavnieki. A lot of Russians feel discriminated f.e. by the endevaour of the government to forbid Russian in daily life, which lead to protests.

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Oleg did not apply for citizenship, why he does not know, but he knows that there is propaganda on both sides concerning Crimea. “If I look on the same website in Russian or in Latvian, there will be different news. How is that possible? I have a grandmother in Crimea and talked to her, so I know that the West is also lying”, he says.

Like the most Latvian Russians (around 18 % of the population) he belongs to the Russian-Orthodox church and goes there from time to time. He supports Putins campaign against gay people after he has been to Western Europe and saw a lot of “strange people”.

The best pilot of Latvia “I don’t see anybody being in power in Russia, except Putin.

After the situation in Crimea, he got strong support from the Russian society and he can solve important problems and press on the criminals harder. Putin is using his brains and Russia is becoming a strong and developed country with him” Sergey says while having some vodka shots in his wooden house on the countryside of Latvia. After being the best pilot of the country in the communistic times, according to his words, he is managing a juice company together with his Latvian wife.

Although he is profiting a lot from the financial help and the infrastructure of the European Union, he remains critical towards it: “The EU countries are roaches in a pot”, he says, “they are eating each other.” You can feel that his pride was offended: “It’s like you had parents and they were kindred with you, but suddenly you became an alien to them. So you sit with them on the same table and they don’t treat you as their child anymore.

Latvia is not my homeland anymore.”

Valentina Konstantinovna would not mind if the same happened in Crimea happens in Latvia, but she thinks that it will not. “It would mean war. Because they see it as an occupation what we see as a liberation”, she continues referring to the Second World War. And she is right.

The former Vice Primeminister and Minister of Defense of Latvia Prof. Dr. Artis Pabriks in an interview said that “we won‘t repeat the mistake from 1939 again – this time we will fight for every centimeter”. “But I would like Putin to rule here...”, Valentina Konstantinovna concludes with a melancholic voice.

Sergey Saushkin during diner with his Latvian wife. Politics are rarely a topic in their discussion, more often these days of course. They live in a wooden house on the countryside of Latvia while having an apartment in the city center as well.

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A typical picture from a Russian household: A big TV is placed in the middle of the kitchen. The f足 amily is cooking Bliny (Russian pancakes) while a russianorthodox priest is adressing them.

Sergey has been a pilot during Soviet times for 15 years.

After the fall of Communism, he was working as an instructor for the new capitalistic airlines.

Oleg visits the Victory Memorial to Soviet Army.

Nowadays the momument remains a controversial subject, as many ethnic Latvians regard it not only as the symbol of Soviet victory in the Great Patriotic War, but also Soviet re-occupation of Latvia. In 1997 it was unsuccessfully bombed by members of a Latvian ultra-nationalist group.

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FAITH

HEALING The shade of child abuse

brightened by religious belief

BY ANDREA ARENA

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t is Sunday, Stefan is waking up in his room, ready for the morning prayer. Overcast weather, the wind is blowing, as usual. The first thought of the day is directed towards God that has always helped Stefan getting over his troubles.

Alone in the gloom “My childhood is not very good, it’s a bad part of my life” Now 28, Stefan has been sexually abused when he was 5 by a teenager. After this episode, he suddenly started directing sexual behaviors toward his classmates and other kids around him, losing their trust and being pushed away from them. “He did something to me that I shouldn’t have known at the age, that affected all my school life and childhood.

I saw the world differently, with the eyes of an adult. I’ve been hiding this secret inside myself for ten years. He didn’t use violence though, he didn’t hurt me, and that was the ­problem.”

Traumatized by the reaction of the small village in Finn where he is from, Stefan completely closed himself towards others, and started having a pure relationship with God, in which he told him all of the deep secrets and nightmares he had been experiencing.

“Ten years later I went to a group for people with different problems and I told the group leader about it. It was really good to tell someone for the first time. But I was talking to God about this. I know he has helped me, and he is still helping me. I talked inside myself, and I manipulate myself to become what I wanted to be. It took years, but I changed myself now, thanks to him.”

Except from God, nobody else was close enough to him or his faith to gain his confidence, actually he always had problems getting in touch with people that lack in deep faith, like his family and his classmates. “I was the only one in school with a strong relationship with Jesus, that’s why they didn’t understand me and they thought I was strange.”

The lack of faith in Denmark is recognized worldwide, whereas in a Euro barometer poll of 2010, only 28% of Danes claimed to believe in a God, ranking the country only at the

“I can feel God when I worship him, he touches my head, my shoulder, but I cannot see it. I know he will never leave me.”

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The very first thing Stefan does in the morning is thanking Jesus for being always with him.

Stefan left his home town in Fyn when he was 13. He was still believing in Santa Claus, although he didn´t tell anybody.

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22nd place of the most religious countries, just inside the EU. “None of my family members believe in Christ. If they don’t share what I believe in, they are not able to understand what I feel.” With no ability to socialize or communicate with people surrounding him, praying and talking to God was in fact the only thing that made him hope for a better life to come.

“I was strange, not normal, I liked to have a physical contact with everyone, and the other children didn’t understand why I was doing it. I thought it was normal as a kid to touch ­myself and masturbate.” While Stefan was trying to remember in details the accident, he quoted the Bible, John; Chapter one, verse 5: The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. “There has always been a hope for a better future in my life. Because I talked to God and he helped me fighting it. I would not have survived if it wasn’t for God.” 16

A little hope is shining, and it comes from God “Out of these very bad things, something good is growing. Out of the ashes of a forest, there is one growing again. I had fire in my childhood, and when the fire died, a new beautiful life started, at least I hope so.”

Stefan suffers from dyslexia, a genetic problem that he had since he was born. Dyslexia manifests itself through difficulties of concentration, studying, reading and writing sentences.

With both difficulties in approaching people and following the normal speed of his classes, he is still attending two different schools nowadays, a high school for people older than 18, and a school in which a teacher is helping him keep the regular studying speed. “When I came to the new school it was ­better, although I didn’t know how to socialize. I learnt how to

“Being in a Christian group is what can make me feel understood by others, also it lets me pray for the community problems�

With the help of Jesus, Stefan is changing his troubled past in a better way of life.

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Every night Stefan is writing down all the bad things he has been d­ oing during the day.

“I didn’t overcome all the bad things I’ve been experiencing in my past, and I will never forget them”.

s­ ocialize just in the last five or six years. I didn’t know how to be with other people.”

Outside the school, Stefan is putting all his effort to become a deacon of the modern church of Valgmenighed. “It’s a very good gift to me to listen and believe in Jesus. He is also part of an Aikido class, “I like it because he helps me to use my body and muscles. I like to learn how to use the power that comes from me. It’s good to give back the power that a person uses against me. I know how to direct the energies away now. I like this freedom to feel the energy.”

“If I didn’t have faith in God, I wouldn’t have succeeded in what I am now. I hope God will help me becoming a better person.”

Waiting for better life to come, provided by God Still keeping his past experiences secret, Stefan is very close to open himself up to the community that once rejected him calling him a gay and fat disturbed person. “It’s very ­comforting for me, to know that Jesus is there, looking over me every single day of my entire life. He always helped me and guided me.

That’s why my relationship with Jesus is the best part of my life so far.”

Stefan sees himself in the future with a radiology education, a wife and two kids, devoting his life to the church community, that one that has helped him when he needed it.“I don’t know yet why God has allowed those things to happen, but I trust him. Therefore I will follow him, and I shall do what he says, because I cannot do it myself, and I guess I shall learn to trust him even more, in his name, and his glory.”

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WHERE CHANCE TAKES YOU What makes you itch? What do you desire in your life?

Something intangible is going on in the Golden Gate Park which the world around seems not able to offer.

Seeking their quest a wide variety of people come to fulfil their desire.

BY PASCAL GIESE

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Music plays a major role in the park and Chance is always carrying his radio with him.

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f you take the ‘N Judah’ train from downtown San Francisco towards Ocean Beach it will carry you with a loud hum and an unmistakeable jar through the city and ever closer to the Pacific. When Judah St crosses 40th Avenue you want to hop off, walk a little bit further and go right into 41st Avenue. In this part of San Francisco the skyscrapers, soaring into the blue sky, have been replaced by little colourful houses which all look slightly different. Sometimes misty sea air settles like a sheath over your head. Don’t worry about it. Come closer and closer to the towering trees of Golden Gate Park until you’re standing right in front of them. The scent of pine trees, ­flowering shrubs and wet earth rises in your nose and lofty Monterey cypresses sculptured by the steadily whispering wind surround South Lake and welcome you into the Golden Gate Park.

On the shore of the little lake, hidden by evergreen bushes, you will spot a small bench through the twigs and leaves. Maybe Chance is sitting there, wearing a black hoody and humming a song with a coconut beer in his hands. Perhaps you will ­approach him a little carefully because of the way he looks, but if he takes off his hood and sunglasses you will catch a glimpse of a furrowed face with sparkling blue eyes and a broad smile on the weathered skin. “My name comes from the many ­chances ­I have had in life,” Chance says. He turns his radio on and starts moving with the beat of the rap music while his eyes are ­wondering over the lake. Occasionally they are ­coming to a rest 22

just to pursue the old pattern after the blink of an eye. ­Asking for a lighter he starts rummaging in an old tattered jacket ­and, with his eyes still searching over the place, his hand gets hold of a joint butt. “Nicotine is no good, I only do pot and a ­ lcohol,” Chance adds while lighting the butt and inhaling deep with ­relish. It offers only one puff and after nipping off the ­ember he puts the roach back in his pocket, saving the resin.

“I love the park but bad things are coming over from Europe.

Holograms at night and stuff like that.” Suddenly pointing in the lake he adds “See this egret? Really cunning bird! Watched him hunting all day.” With a swift glance around, Chance picks up his chattels and turns around. “Right on man, see you around.” And after a handshake he walks away, tuning the ­radio in search of his favourite station.

Haze is billowing unerringly over South Lake. Sometimes here, sometimes there. The egret is standing frozen to the spot awaiting his next prey. All of a sudden it twitches to the ground and soars up into the sky with the unfortunate victim safe in its beak.

The sun is only shining occasionally through the thick foliage.

Therefore, Chance is enjoying the warmth on a bench at the lakeside.

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Behind the lake, trees are opening to a glade where sun-seeking people are either lying in the grass or playing fetch with their dogs. On its edge a slope takes over the glade and leads into an almost jungle-like area which you might want to explore.

Branches are breaking under your feet with a crack and sun is glazing through the shrubbery until it suddenly dissolves, ­offering the unexpected view of fishing ponds. Fly fishing rods are slicing through the air throwing the lines in organic ­movements from one end to the other.

The watching crowd cheers after James throws his line. He is one of the candidates to win this years ‘Spey-O-Rama’ fly ­fishing tournament. Although there are no fish in the pond the passion is there. Shining SUVs are parked next to each other in the sweltering sun beside the clubhouse. At ­lunchtime ­everyone is standing in line eagerly anticipating their own hamburger with fries and a few lettuce leaves.

The tournament goes on. The crowd is cheering again. “Nice one, James,” someone calls. The ever same pattern repeats itself over and over again and almost by itself the leash flies through the air.

Out of the shrubbery comes Chance. The crowd looks at him in unintended condemnation and some begin to stroll away a little bit. Chance stops for a moment admiring the fluent move of the leash and walks along the edge of the ponds with his favourite station tuned in. The sound is echoing over the place until he disappears back into the undergrowth.

Especially on sunny days people are streaming into the park to have barbecue and a little rest out of town.

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Nestling between Eucalyptus trees lies ‘The Golden Gate Angling & Casting Club’ and almost always the leash is thrown.

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You might trample over some weeds on the ground when you ­approach Steve and he will look at you with reserved ­indignation. If you move purposely you will notice that small ­flowerbeds are built all over Steve´s part of the Golden Gate Park. Barks and boughs are defining the flowerbeds and ­interweave the letter so naturally with its surroundings that it is not visible at the first glance. “I planted these for the bees and for myself,” Steve says.

Just behind his home a fence separates the park from an ­almost deserted site where some stranger stores his hives. The bees love the flowers down at Steve´s and he enters the site every night through a hole in the fence to drag down ­water for the garden. “A gardner told me that it is good what I am ­doing here,” he says. Watching his environment with ­ awareness he adds proudly, “from a gardener, can there be a better ­compliment?”

“When I came to the park there was a pile of broken glass lying in front of me. I cleaned it because of bad karma. Ever since I started living here, I have been caring about my part of the park,” Steve says. It has been forty years since he removed the pile of broken glass and now age is getting a grip of him.

You can see his body seeking for calmness while he is dousing his plants.

“It is marvellous, gorgeous to be out here! People say we don’t have seasons here in San Francisco, but thats not true.

We just have them every day and not spread over a year. We have clean air in the park because of the trees and the ocean and I think that is why it is so special. This air makes it p ­ ossible for you to grow!” he says. Slowly Steve is wandering back to his bench resting his hands on the wood for support while sitting down.

“This air makes it possible for you to grow” A smile is sweeping over his face before he closes his eyes and aligns his head back towards the now darkening sky.

“You will never pass on true love if you haven’t received it as a child.” He speaks softly now and his eyes are opening again, showing an age his body has long passed. “I think too much, there are so many voices. Don’t use the right part of your brain, use the left part. I don’t want to think, I want to feel so I can see things how they really are! This air is the most mysterious!”

The sun has set and while darkness falls, all noises are somehow becoming more audible. The wind is whispering ­ through Steve´s flowerbeds and he is putting on clothes in an effort to protect himself from the creeping cold. Laboriously he moves over to his hammock waving his hands for good bye.

The narrowed paths meander through the park, dimly lit in the rising moon. A coyote crosses the way and, looking up at you, it nimbly disappears. Somewhere, out of the pitch black forest the sound of Chance drumming on a container reaches your ears while you pass the now motionless fishing ponds on your way out. The Golden Gate Parks belongs to others now.

Involuntarily your feet are hastening to reach the light flooded street. All of a sudden the park lies behind you and its hushing noises get replaced by roaring silence while the ‘N Judah’ train is driving you jolting back into another world.

The night is making everything impenetrable and other things gain more importance.

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WHERE TWO IS NOT ENOUGH Couple is not simply a synonym for two people bonded to one another through emotional or nuptial ties.

There are many possible meanings and Polyamory encompasses one of them. It consists of multiple lovers sharing feelings founded on mutual trust and communication.

BY EMANUELE CAMERINI

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Rocking unIcorn in Diana’s room. its neckerchief says “I’m the prettiest one in the whole park” 29

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itting cross-legged with her back against the wall, Shauna - 25 from Kansas, USA, is smoking her electronic cigarette. Her thoughts follow one another with the same softness as the little vapor’s clouds that come out of it. The smell of coffee slowly wafts around the room while Aliosha her partner, is bent over his laptop looking for the Facebook profile of a girl he met several days ago who he plans on dating soon; he wants to show Shauna what she looks like. The sound of the coffeemaker draws her back to reality.

“I only have two simple rules for him,” says Shauna, laughing: “Do not date an asshole, and do not date someone who’s cheating on someone else.”

For almost one year they have remained in an open relationship and their circumstances reflect perfectly that “couple” doesn’t have to mean a monogamous affair.

Polyamory is the act of having simultaneous close emotional and romantic relationships with two or more other individuals with the knowledge and consent of all partners involved.

Since ancient times non-monogamous affairs have been present in our society, often without a precise definition.

Particularly over the last twenty years however this philosophy has attained rapid development largely due to its massive spread in popularity through social networking websites.

“Since I had my first experiences in love I always had the idea that it’s possible to have simultaneous relationships while acting openly,” says Aliosha.

He speaks slowly, sipping his coffeecup and enjoying his day

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off from work.

“It was during the beginning of the internet era in surfing the web that I found the word polyamory; for me it was like uncovering a new world. Finally I had something which was defining my belief.”

Everything has been going easily and smoothly. This is because they have chosen to live their relationship as the “primary” one while leaving it open to other side-partners for sexual and romantic affairs.

- “I don’t need any labels” -

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irstin - 26, from Cologne, says “I define myself as a relationship anarchist. It’s a step further than polyamory because in polyamory there is still a big difference between who is your partner and who is not. I don’t need any labels or definitions on my relationships, and I don’t think it’s useful to have a hierarchical structure that defines them. If I really want to talk about my relationships, I would have to use more than just one word anyway.”

She sits in her flat on the west side of Cologne, where she runs a little tailoring shop. She’s self-confident and has sharp ideas about her vision.

“Since last October, I’ve been attending the Cologne polyamory meetings every month. The first time I went there were only around ten people; now there are at least twenty-five or thirty.”

“Jealousy is a kind of umbrella for other hidden feelings”

Left – Shauna, 25 years old. She’s in a open realtionship since one year.

Right – Lexi, 26 years old. “I give up the idea of having a monogamous relationship since I realized I was looking for too many qualities in one single woman”.

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This is a good chance for her to share her experiences and opinions on the topic of open relationships.

“I don’t look for all the happiness of my life in a relationship.

I’m happy for myself. Of course humans are social people, and we need to be close to others, but I think, if you need a specific person to be happy, then there’s something wrong.”

- Jealousy vs Compersion -

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ike in any other kind of relationship, one of the cornerstones of polyamory is the jealousy-management.

Diana, 26, walks serenely around a big former industrial area in Duisburg now turned into a public park.

“In my opinion jealousy is a kind of umbrella for other hidden feelings”. The air smells like almond tree and Gina and Momo, two little dogs, run among the old buildings. Suddenly Momo, the younger one, stops in front a set of small iron steps that connect two different areas; she is not sure wheter she can make it.

“She is always afraid of steps.” Then she finds the courage and slowly she reaches the garden at the bottom. The ­sunset

Left – Diana, 26 years old. They define themselves as a relationship anarchist-pansexual. They shares a flat with two partners and two dogs Momo and Gina.

reflects its colors on the building’s glass walls and Diana further articulates the idea.

“Fear, anger, lack of self-confidence, all of these feelings are hidden behind jealousy. You have to be aware of that, well-aware of yourself; jealousy often is just a symptom of something else.”

This is why one of the most important things is learning how to analyze yourself to figure out why you reach those negative feelings.

“For me it’s all about connecting,” says Andrea, 26 from Hamburg.

“Once I got in contact with myself more and more, I got in contact with love as well. When you leave behind fear, you feel very open and safe ‘cause you’re connected to what and who surround you.”

Self-consciousness and honesty regarding you and your partners is, in an open relationship, the bedrock that points to compersion: a feeling of joy when a loved one invests in and takes pleasure from another romantic or sexual relationship.

In plain words, it is being happy about your partner’s pleasure.

Below – Kirstin and Sven during a poly meeting in Dortmund.

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Aliosha, 38 years old. “I always had the idea that it’s possible to have more simultaneous relationships acting openly”.

- Communication is everything -

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ne of the first warm spring sunbeams shines over Dortmund. The room where the meeting will be held is filled to the brim with plants and candles. It is a cozy and quiet cafe where, once a month, poly-lovers can share and think about their own experiences. Reflecting upon the wall, light produces an imaginary frame in which, in dribs and drabs, everyone will find a part. Small waves of steam rise from the mint tea cups. Everything is set. Regina, 50, from Hagen, takes the floor.

“The last months have been really hard for me. I feel really sad about my situation right now.” Regina has been married for 14 years and in the last years she decided to open her marriage to other relationships. She tells her story, keeping her hot teacup close to herself like she wants to heat up her hurt feelings.

“I discovered some weeks ago that one of my partners hasn’t been clear to me at all about his feelings for another woman.

He spent one night with her recently (and I’ve known that since the day after), but he was hiding from me for three months that he had wanted to build up a polyamorous relationship with her. For me this was really hard to accept because the most dangerous thing in a relationship is when there’s a lack of communication. It’s a problem if you don’t have the same values. We started talking a lot about it, and I realized that it was too much for my small world. For me it’s time to be heading for something new. I have left him free to do and tell me what he wants. I’ll start on a new path with people who think the same way as I do; if he’s able to stay and follow me, it’s ok; otherwise it’s good to let him go.”

Perhaps the takeaway is, being in an open relationship is tough, just as being in a “standard” monogamous affair is, though maybe less for Kirstin who has clear ideas: “If I need you, I can not really love you. You have to be free and independent. Only then you can love someone.”

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“If I need you, I can not really love you. You have to be free and independent. Only then you can love someone.�

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»Fishing out the Future« Thorupstrand is a small town in northern Jutland, Denmark. It is a special town. It is known as one of the last traditional ­fishing ­communities in Denmark that formed a collective; standing up against industrialized fishing cooperatives who wanted to drive ­ them out of the market.

BY FELIX VON DER OSTEN

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he wind smells salty and blows from north to west ­picking up grains of sand. Good for going out on the sea. It is 4:30 in the morning and the sky is pitch-black, though the beach is illuminated by three enormous lights.

The rumbling sound of a giant engine is overruling the small waves breaking on the shore. In a frenzy, workers are securing ropes on the small wooden white and blue ships and ­screaming to each other through the noise. The sound comes from the white faded tanned old building. On it’s side there is a ­massive ­exhaust which produces big dark oily clouds. Two giant steel cables running through the wall of the building all the way into the sea forming a huge circle. A worker hooks one of the cable coming out of the water on the rear anchorage end of HM-93.

The ladder is pulled up, the steel cable straightens and with a scratching sound the boat is smoothly like a snake pulled over the sand into the dark morning sea.

20 families and 20 million kroner In 2006 after the limitation of fishing-quotas, big and rich ­companies reached out to the small fishermen in ­Thorupstrand, to offer them a lot of money for their boats just to get their hands on the valuable fishing quotas and by doing that, ­outsell these small costal communities from the market. With no quotas they were not allowed to fish and the fishing ­industry concentrated on fewer, more efficient ­vessels. To stop that 20 families in Thorupstrand went together, to ­compete against the ­monopolization in commercial fishing and it’s ­privatization.

Almost all families, including the biggest three: Olsen, ­ ­Kristensen and Nielsen, in Thorupstrand formed a ­common quota company, including boat owners and crew, that is able to stand against the big corporations and equally share their income. They stood together and borrowed over 20 million kroner to buy back all their lost quotas and »as many quotas as they could«. Now they use these quotas in a common pool to fish.

The signal mast was first raised in 1921 after a three-master drove onto the beach. After being purchased by the fishery, it was then taken down due to weather influences. The mast was finally brought back because of it’s maritim history.

Extinction »Now if someone leaves Thorupstrand, the group owns the quotas« says Julio van der Zwart, called »Tulpi« since he is from the Netherlands. He is a 29 years old guy who works in the packinghouse located at the beach.

Most of the Kristensen’s and Nielsen’s are in the ­communities group, but most of the Olsen’s are not. They have their own quotas. »Like the neighbor of my father-in-law, he owns HM-84 and his son also owns a boat.« said Julio »He works by himself but he owns a lot of quotas, probably the most in Thorupstrand«.

When someone like him leaves the community »it would be a big problem because our money ­depends on that how much fish we sell« tells Julio. Also »every boat has to pay 6% of their income to the group, to the people working at the beach and helping us pulling the boats out of the water« says Jan Olsen, a 35 year old fisherman who owns his own boat HM-93 with his brother Johnny and is now fishing for over 17 years. If a boat would leave, the group would not have enough money to pay their salary. »The less boats there are, the less money is there« adds Jan, living in his house he was born in one kilometer from the beach. They already had to lower the workers salary who work at the beach for 5000 kroner last month. »If we keep on doing that, we will be extinct.« Normally if a new fisherman came to Thorupstrand he would not able to go out and fish because he would need quotas to 38

Because of the low and long beach there are no harbors in the whole area of the Jammerbugten. That means that the fishermen of that area invented a system to pull their fishing boats onto the beach every evening when they come home from a whole day of fishing.

Thorupstrand is one of the two last places who still uses this old and dying system.

What is a fishing quota?

After the legal forced privatization of fishing in 2006, total allowable catches were introduced. It depended all on what the community of Thorupstrand had cached in 2005. All that fish counted as their highest possible quota. When the community and also the big companies once reaches their catch quota they are forbidden to catch anymore fish and with that earn anymore money. Quotas can typically be bought, sold and leased.

Kalle Johan Christensen, 17 years old, don’t want to be a fisherman for his profession. He rather work in a bank. However he likes to earn some money on the side by cleaning fish on weekends or on school vacation.

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The wheelinghouse is where all the fishermen come together to discuss the changes in fish prices and drink 30.000 cups of coffee a year. When the weather is bad they have to stay awake all night to watch out that the boats don’t get pulled into the wild sea.

fish. To buy these quotas costs millions of kroner but now with the group, a new person only needs around 100.000 danish ­Kroner and with that he would be able to fish all he wants ­inside the quotas. He would rent them instead of owning them. »This is much better way to attract new people into the ­Community« Julio says.

Daily routine The fishermen go out almost everyday in the early mornings 40

with their little boats catching fish – provided the wind is not to heavy. The design that allows the boats to be pulled onto the beach makes them easily affected by bigger waves. ­Sometimes they come back with a good catch, sometimes they come back with nothing. If the boats come back with a good catch the people cleaning, sorting and packing the fish often work until the early mornings. They always try to work efficiently because they get paid per case of fish, not per hour. »If they worked as much as they do somewhere else – they would be so rich« says Louise Kristensen. She is the daughter of

Jan Olsen’s nickname is »little Brutalis« due to his weightloss after a gastric bypass surgery. Since 2008 he co-owns a boat, called HM-93, toghether with his brother.

Evald Kristensen who went to the sea for almost his whole life.

He works now at the packinghouse, sorting fish and ­preparing them to be picked up by a truck in the early mornings.

Cheap flatfish The prices of fish are constantly dropping, which is a dilemma for the fishermen considering they only earn money if they ­actually sell it to an fish auction house in Hanstholm. »The prices are very low. A flatfish is now around five ­Kroner but six years ago we got 14 Kroner for it, which is a big ­difference.« Jan says. Also it depends of which fish is actually caught. In wintertimes the cod comes closer to the beach, so they are able to catch it but when it gets warmer the cod goes to colder places like Greenland and the Flatfish comes closer to the beach. Soon the fishermen will catch up to 50 cases of flatfish a day. Then when the storing tanks are completely full the fish will be all over the boat. »If you don’t take it, you loose money!« adds Julio while standing in the cooled packinghouse and filling the green cases with ice dropping out of the new ice-machine.

Keeping the tradition alive The Danish government wants to keep the tradition alive and is willing to keep it. Also they want to support the healthy and environment friendly way of fishing. Instead of big trawlers who creeps everything from the floor of the ocean and with that threaten marine life-saving coral reefs and other natural

seabed resources, the fishermen in Thorupstrand use special nets that only float in the sea and endanger nothing else than the fish they want to catch.

They helped the fishing community with a brand new ­packinghouse that costs over 23 Million kroner. This amount of money was financed half from a private fond, half from the EU. This environmentally friendly warehouse is equipped with solar panels on the south-facing roof powering the ice and cooling machines.

While using the new hydraulic arm to lift the heavy green cases filled with plaice Julio notes: »They needed three months to build it and we have worked here for one«. It should not also help them to pack the fish faster and with less effort, it also provides special ­fillet-station where the caught fish will be ­directly processed. This could provide the community with a better income due to the ­auction house as an intermediary would be skipped and the fish would ­directly go from Thorupstrand as a distributer to various ­restaurants around Denmark and hopefully further. That would save them a lot of money.

As a additional plan they launched the »Red Thorupstrand« Facebook-page for donations that goes hand in hand with a boat in Copenhagen which functions as a restaurant, of course with the freshly cached fish from the northern Coast.

The next generation The future is starting to look like that it will work out in ­Thorupstrand but the people there depend on the government that the fish someday could be sold for more money than in 41

the current situation. When the crisis was at it’s greatest point, many of the young boys were discouraged of being a ­fisherman but »the town would die if everyone would jump off« states ­Julio. That was the case on many other fishing towns in ­Denmark. However Thorupstrand is a little town. But with it’s unity of fishermen that came together in a group, it suddenly became big. With this group they are able to preserve their quotas for a future generation of fishermen and help them in their beginning. »It’s my life, it’s always been that and I like what I am d ­ oing so fishing is what I want to do for the rest of my life« says ­Rasmus Olsen who is 18 years old and captain of his own boat, while he ties some knots on a fishing net. He benefits from a strong community as well as the young teenager in ­Thorupstrand who just earn some money on the side by cleaning fish in the ­afternoon and depend on a good catch.

The sun is high in the blue sky and small waves swashing onto the deck washing away drops of blood. HM-93 is going full speed towards the beach followed by a cloud of ­screaming seagulls.

With a rasping sound the boat saccades on firm ground. The enormous yellow rusty bulldozer is already ­waiting puffing out dark clouds while on the boat some of the fish are still moving.

Kristian Susila Nielsen was adopted in 1990 from Sri Lanka. He is now 27 years old and loves fishing on his father’s boat. When his father retires, Kristian wants to stop fishing and return to his old job as a stainless steel smith.

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Right – Tinne Christensen is 20 years old and came back to Thorupstrand after three years of education in Aalborg. Now she is cleaning fish whenever there is some. Also she wants to teach her future children to do the same. She feels lucky for growing up in this community where everyone knows each other.

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44

STRINGS OF SOUL My grandmother always said to me: “As long as there is life, there is hope…”

BY DARIA KLIMASHEVA

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H

undreds of small houses in the centre of Barcelona shine bright under the hot Spanish sun. Near one of them people walk down the street and then ­suddenly stop. They listen to a hardly distinguishable sound that seemingly comes from nowhere. Right under their feet, in a ­basement of an old house, there is a tiny room full of music and smoke.

The singer is arguing with the guitarist because the latter won’t play the right way: “Do you wanna play like a real band or we’d just finish right now and go home?” Today is the third and last rehearsal before they have a drum & bass session at a night club. Finally, all musicians sound in unison and the ­electricity in the air getting less strong.

Baba Eldon, a reggae-singer from Jamaica, met most of his friends and colleagues sitting on the rocks of Barcelona`s beach. He reached the Spanish coast on a summer day 3 years ago on board of a ship, where he worked as a metallurgist. He decided to stay and find people who will have energy to help him produce his first album. Then he accidentally found out that his passport and visa had expired.

At first he lived in a big house in an African community in Spain with more than 200 people. Until one day the police came and kicked them out. This is how Baba ended up on the street. It was summer and he spent some time living on the beach until he found friends who offered him a place to stay.

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“Every day I wake up and I can get up and move, it’s a blessing!

The thing is no matter in what position you find yourself, someone is probably in a worse position than you.”

Left – Baba Eldon has a dinner with guys from the band on the terrace of one of them.

Above – The band preparing for a performance in a night club.

Right – Baba singing on the fi­ nal rehearsal breore drumm & bass seccion in the basement-studio.

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Baba’s grand grandparents were taken away from Africa to work on a banana plantation in Jamaica, where he was born.

“I spent all my life where everyone around me was talking about Africa and how we would move there...”

Nowadays many people don’t know from which part of A ­ frica they came from, it’s quite hard to find your roots, especially when your relatives were sold to North America or ­Europe as slaves - all the archives and records were damaged for a purpose.

“Once I went to Africa for three weeks, and I ended up living there for six years, it was like a real family reunion. I have to return there, I couldn’t be happy anywhere else, so it`s my destiny.”

There he wrote most of his songs, one of which would become also the name of the album – “Family of Love”. Baba calles himself a rastaman and strongly believes that all people are like one big family, and that’s why racism and nationalism are kind of made up.

“We should realise that we are all people, and color doesn’t make someone better than the others.

There are all colors in the rainbow.”

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Every day, four hours before the sunset on the coastline of Barcelona your eyes can easily catch a glimpse of a man in white sitting on the rocks, looking at the foamy crashing waves.

Tons of tourists pass him by, but he hardly notices when people give him tips or take photos - he is not there, he is not from there.

As a little boy he used to go to a river in Jamaica with his grandmother to wash dishes and clothes. He couldn`t really help her, but he could sit motionless for hours looking into the depths of crystal clear river water.

“Sometimes, when my grandmum called me, I realised that I was really sitting by the river, because I could sit there and feel like i was transported to different places.”

When he was young, he was crazy about the idea of travelling all over the globe. Now he is calm, he is waiting, his kind brown eyes following every airplane in the azure Spanish sky with some kind of regret. Every day, after recording at his friends` studio, he comes to the beach with his guitar and a loaf of bread to feed his little Spanish friends – birds and rats that live deep under the stones.

From time to time his thoughts come back to his home country. He is still moving from home to home, from family to family, hoping that when the album will be finished he earned enough money to come back.

“Each day I`m getting older and things become more clear. This is basically our purpose in life – getting to know ourselves instead of looking for money.”

Left – Baba on a small break between recording process.

Below – Dressing for a drum & bass session.

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50

In Jamaica there are some chickens that can’t feather.

So the elderly always say: “Can you see them?

They don’t cry because they have no plumes, they are

praying for a long life because they believe if they have a long life, one day plumes will come…”

51

The table is littered with beige cards made with white lace on brown Burlap. Kristina Serkova is an elegant tall woman, with her hair clipped back over her head and a child like excitement in her eyes. With delicate slow motions of her hands and with great care she puts lace on the brown Burlap. She designed the cards herself and is making them with her own hands for her wedding. Her mother Silvija helps her carefully stick invitations on the cards, using books as a weight till the glue dries.

Meanwhile her father, in his spectacles wearing a red jumper, refills everyone’s wine glasses before settling into his chair. A streak of satisfaction crosses his face, as the conversation turns to the guest list. Soon loud boisterous laughter fills the room as they discuss the invitations. Photographs of their daughter and her boyfriend and future son in law are proudly displayed on walls of the living room, with Danish flag sits next to a another picture of them on the shelf. Their two cats are sprawled lazing on the couch.

The first time I left Latvia was when I was 16 years old going to Denmark with a friend when Latvia was not yet part of the European Union. “We took a bus from Riga to Aarhus but we got stuck at the border control and missed our bus from Berlin to Aarhus,” describes 27 years old Kristina , sitting on a plastic chair in the garden soaking in the sun at her parents house, as she takes a long deliberate sip from her cup of coffee while their dog stretches himself relaxing under the shade of the verandah. She belongs to a small sleepy town Ilukste in Latvia.

via, where spring is beginning to show its varied hues. On the way to Ilukste you come across sleepy villages sparsely populated with abandoned houses scattered along the way. As spring sets in you see signs of agricultural activity taking place on gentle slopes. When you get off the bus early evening in Ilukste, there is no sign of life other than a shop and few passengers making their way home. The tree-lined streets are empty with only the houses giving some indication of life.

Latvia is facing a demographic crisis. A 2011 survey announced that the Latvian population decreased from 2.2 million in 2000 to just 2.0 million, falling 13.0 percent in little over a decade.

Kristina says “ We were 20 kids in the class and my guess is that half of them are abroad”. She cannot meet any of her friends when she comes to visit her parents as none of them are living in Ilukste. Walking in the town every now and then some old resident passes by. The only real sign of life is seen at the super market. These days not many young people live there as most of them have left in search of better opportunities. Irena Kulina is a schoolteacher in the town. She says there were 270 students five year ago. Now there are only 100. Lilija Baginskis adds “also birthrates have reduced very much there is no one who is giving birth - youth has gone away.

While many have left, some still miss the remnants of home. “I was in high school and all money I got I put it in phone box then Now she is back in Ilukste preparing for her wedding to her called home and cried,” recalls Kristina. “In a way the feeling of Danish boyfriend, with whom she is has been living in Esbjerg missing my parents back home gets bigger as the years pass and they get older. on the west coast of Denmark.

“We were two 16 year old girls stuck in Berlin, she traveled along with a friend from her school on her first trip. we did not Kristina’s father Edward says nobody is really counting but know what to do! As memories of trip come flooding back she the numbers are reducing and there are almost no young people moves in her chair. Her voice becoming softer. We took a bus here. Everybody has left, they don’t have any jobs and if they do to Hamburg, putting together our last money for the ticket. We have a job then the salary is very low. It is too late bag is already were just two teenage girls with huge luggage if you were one open no matter how good is economic situation in Latvia people person you couldn’t even carry it. So we couldn’t really move will still leave as Latvia is 20-30 year, behind western Europe around, we just had to stay put at Hamburg train station for a Edward says relaxing on his chair in the sun draped afternoon.

He takes a puff from his cigarettes. With his gaze towards the whole night.” blue sky scattered with grey clouds, he blows the smoke towards Taking a bus through beautiful forested countryside in Lat- sky. via, where spring is beginning to show its varied hues. On the way to Ilukste you come across sleepy villages sparsely popArnis Kaktins, Managing Director of Marketing and Public ulated with abandoned houses scattered along the way. As spring sets in you see signs of agricultural activity taking place Opinion Research Centre (skds) says when during their annual on gentle slopes. When you get off the bus early evening in Il- survey on October 2013, Latvians were asked what they would ukste, there is no sign of life other than a shop and few passen- do if they got an opportunity to migrate to western Europe. 39.9 gers making their way home. The tree-lined streets are empty percent said “Yes”. The surveyors have been measuring this indicator every year since 1998. Arnis explains that what they experiwith only the houses giving some indication of life. ence in the field is that they are not finding enough young people Now she is back in Ilukste preparing for her wedding to her in certain regions of the country when they are conducting their Danish boyfriend, with whom she is has been living in Esbjerg polls. According to the government official statistics these young people should exist on whose figures they construct there polls. on the west coast of Denmark.

“We were two 16 year old girls stuck in Berlin, she traveled along with a friend from her school on her first trip. we did not know what to do! As memories of trip come flooding back she moves in her chair. Her voice becoming softer. We took a bus Kristina and her mother sit in their uncle’s old Russian red to Hamburg, putting together our last money for the ticket. We Lada- one of the two left in the town. Kristina plans to drive away were just two teenage girls with huge luggage if you were one on the wedding day in the car as she says her marriage theme is person you couldn’t even carry it. So we couldn’t really move retro. They drive down the dirt road and arrive at the opening around, we just had to stay put at Hamburg train station for a in the forest. The little hills around it give the opening a shape of a bowl as the chirping of birds fill the air. Sunlight baths the whole night.” ground making the grass glow with a shinny green colour. They Taking a bus through beautiful forested countryside in Lat- have arrived at the beautiful forest site where her wedding is go52

Vanishing Generation Latvia is facing a negative population growth – a ­predictament made worse as more and more young people look for a future elsewhere. It’s a precarious situation for the country with no possible solution in sight.

ing to take place this summer.

When asked what will happen to her parent’s house when they are gone, Kristina pauses. There’s a possibility her parent’s house might become like other abandoned houses, she says. When they are not here anymore she will have no reason to come back. “Once they are gone thinking of it makes me feel something that meant so much for me in a time, will die forever” she says.

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BY ROMANA MANPREET

T

he table is littered with beige cards made of white lace on brown burlap. Kristina Serkova is tall and elegant, with her hair clipped back and a child like excitement in her eyes. With delicate slow motions of her hands, she glues lace on the burlap. She designed them herself- a homemade touch for her upcoming wedding.

Her mother Silvija helps her carefully stick invitations on the cards, using books to weigh them down until the glue dries.

Their two cats are sprawled on the couch watching on ­curiously.

Meanwhile Kristina’s father bespectacled and ­ wearing a red jumper, refills everyone’s wine glasses before settling into his chair. A streak of satisfaction crosses his face, as the ­conversation turns to the guest list. Soon boisterous ­laughter fills the room as they discuss the invitations. ­Photographs of their daughter and future son in law are proudly displayed on walls. A Danish flag sits proudly on a shelf along with more photos of the happy couple in the living room.

“The first time I left Latvia, I was 16 years old,” says Kristina.

“I was going to Denmark with a friend when Latvia was not yet part of the European Union. We took a bus from Riga to Aarhus but we got stuck at the border control and missed our 54

connecting bus from Berlin.” That was 10 years ago. Today Kristina’s back in her hometown, Sitting on a plastic chair in her parent’s garden soaking in the sun. She takes a long ­deliberate sip of her coffee while their dog stre­tches under the shade of the verandah. Ilukste is a sleepy little town in ­southern Latvia.

Kristina has returned briefly to prepare for her wedding to her Danish boyfriend Dines Lender. They’ve been living in Denmark for the last 10 years and plan to settle there after they marry.

“We were two teenage girls stuck in Berlin,” she recalls. Her school friend accompanied her on her first trip. “We did not know what to do.” As memories of trip come flooding back she shuffles in her chair, her voice softens as she recalls the journey. “We took a bus to Hamburg, putting together our last money for the ticket. We were just two small girls with huge luggage. So we couldn’t really move around, we just had to stay put at Hamburg train station for a whole night.”

A bus ride through Latvia’s verdant countryside reveals signs of spring. The route to Ilukste is scattered with ­tranquil, sparsely populated villages with abandoned houses. With spring comes renewed agricultural activity on gentle slopes.

The bus reaches Ilukste in the early evening. The town shows

Left – Kristina and her parents discuss about her upcoming wedding at their home.

Above – Her mother’s cat sits in a suitcase amidst Kristina’s wedding stuff she brought along with her from Denmark.

Below – An abandoned house in which Kristina’s father grew up ­during his childhood.

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“When I am visiting Latvia I really don’t feel I belong here like I belonged 10 years ago, even in Denmark I don’t know whether I completely belong there. I really don’t know where I belong.”

little signs of life other than a shop and few passengers making their way home. The tree-lined streets are empty with only the houses giving some indication of life.

L

atvia is facing a demographic crisis. A 2011 survey ­announced the Latvian population has fallen by nearly 200,000 since 2000- a 13 percent drop in little over a decade. “ We were 20 kids in the class and my guess is that half of them are abroad,” Kristina says. All of her childhood friends have left. It’s only her to parents now tying her to the Ilukste.

She occasionally meets long-time residents when ­walking through town, but the only real signs of life are at the ­supermarket. These days few young people live in Ilukste, as 56

Kristina who is visiting her parents in Ilukste for few days to prepare for her up-coming wedding in summer.

most have left in search of better opportunities. Irena Kulina is a schoolteacher in the town. She says there were 270 students five year ago. Now there are only 100. Krisitina’s aunt, Lilija Baginskis, adds another grim observation. “Birthrates have ­reduced very much there is no one who is giving birth - youth has gone away.”

W

hile many have left, Kristina still misses the ­remnants of home. “I was in folk high school in Denmark and all money I got I put it in phone box then called home and cried,” she recalls. “In a way the feeling of missing my ­parents back home gets bigger as the years pass and they get older.

Kristina’s father Edward says nobody is keeping track but the numbers are falling. “Everybody has left. They don’t have any jobs and if they do have a job then the salary is very low,” he says with concern. “It’s too late. The bag is already open. No matter how good the economic situation in Latvia, people will still leave because the country is 20-30 years behind ­Western Europe.” He relaxes on his chair in the sun-draped afternoon, taking a puff from the cigarette in his hand. With his gaze­ ­towards the blue sky scattered with grey clouds, he blows the smoke towards sky. The joke among the Latvians is that the last person in the airport should please switch off the lights!

A 2013 survey by Latvia’s Marketing and Public Opinion ­Research Centre revealed 39.9 per cent of respondents would 57

58

migrate to Western Europe if given the opportunity. The centre has been measuring this indicator every year since 1998, says managing director Arnis Kaktins. He says their research has suffered because they’re not finding enough young people in certain regions of the country when they’re conducting polls.

According to the government official statistics these young people should exist. However Arnis’ experience while conducting polls suggests many have left the region.

K

ristina and her mother sit in their uncle’s old Russian red Lada- one of only two left in the Ilukste. Kristina plans to drive away in the car on her wedding day as part of her “retro” wedding theme. She and her mother drive down the dirty road and arrive at an opening in the forest. The little hills around it give the opening the shape of a bowl, as the chirping of birds fill the air. Sunlight baths the ground making the grass glow a shinny green colour. It’s a perfect site for a summer wedding, amidst the dense forest.

Left – The interiors of the abandoned houses in the Latvian countryside.

Kristina pauses when asked what will happen to her ­parent’s house when they are gone. There’s a possibility the house might become like other abandoned homes in the region, she says. When they are not here anymore she will have no reason to come back. “Once they’re gone, thinking of it makes me feel like something that meant so much for me, will die forever.” she says.

Kristina and her boyfriend Dines Lender at their home in Denmark.Where she plans to settle down after their marriage.

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TREADING ON DREAMS

BY SAILENDRA KHAREL

Khaled wants to build a movement.

He wants to give a message to society by helping people in need.

“See the person, don’t be afraid.”

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T

he bus leaves from Tvind, Vamdrup, a small city outside of Aarhus in Denmark for Greece. Inside, the environment is filled with silence and curiosity. The travel continues for the France on ship with same 20 others for their educational trip across Europe. It’s dark outside at the seashore, Khalid Ahmed 15; prepares to go out for a night walk. He experienced different feelings seeing a hungry man lying on the road but people walk in past ignoring him. Not understanding the people’s indifference to the hunger of the man, he ruminated over the fate of hunger and homelessness. He rushed to buy him some bread and though he didn’t understand his language, he could see the tinge of happiness in his eyes.

Khaled Ahmed was arrested for four cases and sent to a socioeducation residence. The cases ranged from beating teachers to selling drugs. This re-education center was slowly changing as a new home for him where he had to spent three years.

There he met native and non-native new friends from

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“I just want to be a symbol of change and tell people no matter how bad your life used to be, there is always time and you can do it�

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Somalia, Turkey, and from the Middle East. Khaled listened to their grievances and pains. All the change was happening when they were taken to travel around Europe where he saw a number of homeless, sick, and poor people. “I compared myself to these destitute and realized that I had a far more better life than these people,” says Khaled.

Early Childhood Khaled was only one year old when his family had to flee from Kuwait to Denmark. His dad was a policeman; a jailor of the prison, and Kuwait was going through war. After Saddam Hussein occupied their country, his parents had no option but to flee. Not fleeing would leave them all dead. In 1993, he all came here and were put on asylum at Sandholmlejren, a former barracks and largest asylum center in Denmark.

After four years they were shifted to Gellerupparkken close to Toveshøj in Aarhus, an old settlement with 10 thousand people living in 2,248 apartments.

Hailing from a Muslim-dominated society and brought up in a culture alien to Denmark’s, they faced difficulties in adapting themselves in this new setting. Language was another problem, as his parents could not speak Danish.

Khaled says, “My school life was not good as my life was

divided between two different cultures and languages. Home was totally different from the school.”

There was a huge hue and cry about the problem of immigrants in 2003 in Denmark. The immigrants were perceived as lazy and were believed to be complicit of the crimes that happened in the country.

“There was a trust deficit between the natives and the immigrants,” he says.

“I was involved in many misdeeds. One day, I hit my teacher.”

He also tells how his involvement in fights and regular fracas in the locality built his image as a spoiled brat. Though people looked at him like “Rambo”, they never believed he was going to change someday.

His arrest came as a boon to him in one way.

“I could think and retrospect my life when I was living in the care center,” says Khaled

The Change He was 18 when he came back home. In his hometown he found a man who was homeless living in a bad condition.

He saved some of his pocket money every month to give it to 65

man. He also helped him build a place to live. Later when the man’s left leg was injured, it was Khaled who looked after him at the hospital and stayed with him throughout the treatment.

“I had to make lies to live with him.” As the leg-injury of the man could not be treated, the surgeons amputated it. Khaled remembers, “I asked him to be strong and promised to help him throughout his life. I am happy that I have fulfilled my promise.”

Khaled respects the 65-year-old man, who now lives in an old age home, and treats him as his father.

“People who are sick and live in the streets feel lonely and think that the world doesn’t care about them. I really want to show that they are not alone and there is somebody in the world to take care of them”, says Khaled.

Every Sunday afternoon he goes to give pizza to homeless people in Godsbanen and sometimes to meet his friend at the old age home and buy him food.

He was a 16-year-old boy when the idea of setting up an organization flickered in his mind. Not only clueless about the procedure of setting any organization, he also had no 66

seed money to begin anything, which would help the poor and people in need. One of his friends told him about the Danish Refugee Council, an organization; which supported immigrants in Denmark. He submitted his project plan and was selected and received 25,000 Kroners to start his dream project, “Be There For Each Other”.

It’s cool to help “I just want to be a symbol of change and tell people no matter how bad your life used to be, there is always time and you can do it”, he adds.

Khaled is faithful to his prophet Muhammad and aspires to be as kind and as generous as Mother Teresa. He has discovered the virtue of forgiveness within himself and prays for the ones who make mistakes. Paying due respect to every religion in the world, he wants everyone to understand the value of love, kindness and forgiveness. He is even kind to the ones who see immigrants like him as evils and prays for them so that they may one day be able to stand the truth.

“They are afraid of us because they think we build ghettos

around their settlements.” Khaled understands the reason behind the suspicions harbored by the inhabitants against the Muslims. He wants everyone to understand that not every Muslim is a terrorist and every black is evil.

He wants to build a movement through their events for poor and homeless people. For those who need help to give a message to society that when you see the person, don’t be afraid.

“It’s cool to help, be there for each other”, says Khalid.

Next year Khaled will complete his education and will be an orderly. More important than this to him is his dream. The dream to make his organization bigger; the dream to have a greater reach of the organization; the dream to bring all needy and poor under its ambit and help them; the dream to see people smiling and happy.

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In

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Between

Morten and Frede Mortensen, along with Fredes’ wife, Margit, live ­together under the same roof, on Denmark’s least populated island: Birkholm.

BY BENEDIKT ZIEGLER

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'The fishermen with the four arms'

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t is six o’clock in the morning and a cloudy day. The sun is rising. A rabbit is passing the field and a lot of birds are chirping. Slowly, you can hear a motor sound coming along the gravel road. It’s Frede Mortensen driving a quad and his brother Morten on the trailer, going to the small harbour of Birkholm, the smallest inhabited island in Denmark.

“That was always the case and will always remain the case” says Frede, the younger sibling at sixty-nine years old. While seventy-four year old Morten is always sailing the boat, and sixty-five year old Margit is still sleeping.

“That would be of course stupid if she would also get up with us that early,” adds Frede again and laughs. She, a fisherman’s daughter from Svendborg came in the 90’s to Birkholm and married Frede. However, the brothers were born on the island and live there until today.

Every morning, in the summer months at half past four and in winter at half past six, the brothers go fishing for shrimps and eels along the North coast of the island. Sometimes in ­summer, they catch up to one thousand kilograms of shrimp per day.

They are called “the fishermen with four arms” because of how they work together. Morten reals in the nets which were laid out the day before, while Frede sorts out the shrimp and the eels on board with diligence and speed. All other species of small fish are thrown back into the sea.

“We don't need to talk that much what we are doing, we know each other, we know exactly what the other one is ­doing” tells Frede.

'The speed of life' Back in the Mortensens’ house, which is the only one on the island that survived the flood and big fires of the 19th century, Margit wakes up. As she has nothing to do with fishing, Margit takes care of the household and the office work. She got used to the island and the quiet daily life.

“I don't feel lonely that often,” she says.

“But especially in winter, it can be long and sad time when the men are out on the sea”. For her, the speed of life is not so fast on the island. Every day has its duty and each season has its own rhythm. Before her retirement, she did her work every day near Svendborg as a salesgirl. Every morning Margit was carried out by Frede and Morten, who sailed her to Tåsinge and then picked her up again in the afternoon. What about their ­relationship? Margit coming into their lives has not changed the day-to-day life of the Mortensens.

It is ten o’clock and the wind blows outside. From the kitchen you can hear the sound of the quad coming closer to the house.

The brothers are back.

“How was it today?” Margit asks Frede.

“Cold and windy, it is incredible that you can catch shrimps in this weather,” he answers.

“And how much?” with interest Margit ads.

“Twenty kilograms” says Frede.

It is time for a break and coffee. Morten retreats into the ­living 70

The brothers have a garage where they store and repair their fishing nets in winter. In summer they have between 150 and 200 of them in the water.

70 Danish kroner per kilo the Mortensens get ­before the day a­ fter the delicacy shrimps are ­being served for 1000 Danish kroner on the ­tables of the most ­renowned restaurants in Copenhagen.

“I haven't taken away Frede from Morten, I just joined them,� Margit says. Now, it is just the bed that the brothers no longer share.

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room. It is as if the little brother is the most extroverted and his big brother the more reserved of the two. Frede is the optimist, while Morten is the pessimist.

“That was our way to reach the mainland, it was a lot of fun crossing the ice with motorbikes,” he says. They have never done a driver’s licence, because there is no reason to have it on the island.

“Are you feeling lonely here?” Frede's ­answer: “Lonely? No, I wouldn't say that. ­­­­­ I think many people in the cities are more lonely than us".

Today is something special, Carsten G. Rasmussen, the ­ferrymen from the neighbouring island, Hjortø, is bringing some new building materials for a broken roof of one of the twenty summerhouses of the island. It is the day before the weekend when the Mørk-Pedersen family, the owners of the summerhouse, arrive to stay for Easter on the island to fix it.

The boat should be here at three o’clock, but he has not shown up until now. The brothers and the owners are waiting ­patiently at the harbour.

“Of course we help each other,” says Frede. The ferry arrives.

Morten is cranking down container-ferrying ­gantry and Frede is driving the tractor to pick up the trailer. The Mortensens are working hand in hand again without really talking. It looks like they are rather separate Siamese twins then brothers.

'The life has changed' Afternoon. The Mortensens retreat into the house. The daily work is done. Back into the black armchairs in the living room of the farmhouse. The brothers’ faces and arms are dark and roasted by the sun. Margit has settled herself on the couch with an album of newspaper clippings and old pictures. They start talking about the past. There were winters on the island where everything was surrounded with ice. Frede just picks up a ­picture of their famous, old Danish motorcycle called Nimbus, bought in the ‘50s for 250 Danish kroner and sold for 25.000 Danish kroner a couple of years ago.

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In the past there was a shop, farms and a school, but today there is nothing left. Life has changed over the last 30 years.

There are no companies anymore, just summerhouses and the farming, where the Irish cows keep the grass low on the is­­­­land.

They are owned by the mail-ferrymen Jan Fabricius, who sails once a day, except Sundays, from Marstall, a small harbour on the neighbouring island Ærø to Birkholm. After the long cold winters, during which the Mortensen brothers stay at home repairing their fishing nets, life on the island is starting over again. The summer houses are supplied by their owners in the beginning just for the weekends but in midsummer also for longer period.

“We like when the summerhouse owner visit us, then there is life on the island,” tells Frede.

However, the brother does not hold much hope for the ­island's future. He is convinced that Birkholm has terminated as a vibrant, fast-inhabited community when they go away.

The big question is how long will the Mortensens have health to live here on the island?

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The “Forsamlingshus” is used as an assembly hall by the Mortensens and the owners of the summerhouse. Located in the centre of ­Birkholm, the structure was built by farm workers on the island in 1912. Yrsa, the longest living cow in Denmark is pictured on the wall. ­­­­­­­­­She­ ­­­­lived most of his 28 year lifespan on the small island.

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“Are you concerned about the future?”

“No”, Margit answers, ”You can call me in five years, then I can tell you.

We take it like it comes, it happens when it happens.”

“It is hard to say, if we get sick, we cannot be here,” says­ ­Margit. Now, they are still working to stay. In emergency cases, the ­helicopter can come. In the future, the brothers will retire when it is impossible to stay on the small island of Birkholm, especially considering the possibility of requiring medical treatment or health care. Therefore, they have to move to the mainland into an apartment.

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t is late and almost night time. Outside, there is no sound of the quad, tractor or the fishing boat anymore. You only hear the wild geese searching for a place to sleep. No clouds anymore. No wind. A starry night. The weather has changed. ­­­­

Birkholm is only 0,9 square ­kilometers across, and it is situated south of Fünen between Tåsinge and Ærø. There are 27 inhabited islands in ­Denmark. The number of people living on these Danish isles have been dropping for years.

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No Sex, Thanks The invisible orientation towards visibility

BY GIULIA MANGIONE

A

bright neon light casts a cold light while Lisa nearly pokes her eye with the mascara brush. “I am so bad at being a girl. You can tell I never put make up on,” and spits off some of her bright pink hair than accidentally got into her mouth.

Lisa, 30-year old from Buckinghamshire, is in London for the weekend to go to the Olivier Awards ceremony for theatre. She says she never does anything girly, prefers jeans and ­T-shirts over dresses and wears her hair up in a bun. But tonight she hopes to meet actor Tom Hiddleston (Thor, The Avengers and the most recent Jim Jarmusch’s Only Lovers Left Alive) so she’s making an effort. Lisa’s dating profile reads: I want a guy 29-40, single, for long-term dating. I love baby animals, my awful sense of humour, dancing EVERYWHERE, pole. I am a vegan and asexual. I love kissing, cuddling and every other part of a relationship – just not the sex.

“Because in my previous relationship I didn’t want to go ­ nywhere that involved sex, I went to a doctor and got checked a out, to make sure that nothing physically or psychologically was wrong with me.”

The doctor attributed Lisa’s lack of sex drive to some ­medication, but she said that it couldn’t have been that as she had always felt like this. The doctor then assumed that it had to be something mental and referred Lisa to a ­psychosexual therapist. Luckily the therapist turned out to be more ­ ­knowledgeable about asexuality.

“She said to me: ‘Look, if you hate sex and you’re happy with that, that’s fine - that’s asexuality. Problems come only if you want to change the situation.”

Lisa went back home, googled ‘asexuality’ and found AVEN, the Asexual Visibility & Education Network.

“I thought: how did I not find this before? The internet is more

Lisa Smith, 30, from Buckinghamshire, is in London for the weekend to attend the Olivier Awards.

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Lisa Smith, 30, is nervous while waiting outside the Olivier Awards in Covent Garden.

useful than bloody doctors are!” says Lisa in a shrug. “Just ­knowing that I wasn’t broken was just absolutely amazing.”

Lisa confesses that when she first heard the word she thought it had to do with amoebas and worms, because of their ­reproduction.

“I was lucky that it was two years ago. If I were 15, there would have been no knowledge at all. Because asexuality is still very much unknown, people usually think it’s a way to get people’s attention or an excuse for being single.”

Unlike celibacy, which is a choice, asexuality is something you are born with, another sexual orientation. As a teenager Lisa thought she just didn’t find the right person, until she found someone she was completely smitten with and still didn’t feel the need to have sex. She thinks that being asexual, alongside not wanting to have kids and being a vegan it does narrow her chances down a lot.

“Dating is already difficult and you are then going for a tiny group of people so worldly spread. Plus, many people don’t want to admit it, they’d rather just keep pretending because they don’t want to be seen as outsiders. They’re probably still seeing their doctor thinking there’s something wrong with them and taking viagra.”

Although there is a specific dating website for asexuals ­(ace-book.­net), Lisa still prefers to use normal dating websites.

One of the worse comments she’s got was ‘you’ll die alone’.

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“When they say ‘do you want to come back for coffee’ they genuinely mean coffee”

“That’s the thing I am most afraid of. I am actually terrified of that: ending up in a house with loads of cats!”

Confronting her life with her peers, she says “I am bitching about my parents and living with them, while my friends are bitching about the fact their kids wouldn’t go to sleep at 3am and stuff like that. Is definitely weird. I feel like I am 12 when everyone else is getting older.”

For Lisa sexuality is either a weakness or an addiction, ­something that involves a huge amount of effort and energy towards something that is not that big a deal.

“I suppose I see the whole sexuality thing as dangerous as well,” she says “because you can end up with diseases, you can end up pregnant or assaulted. I mean if you go out with an asexual person you know that that’s not going to happen, you don’t have to worry about it. When they say ‘do you want to come back for coffee’ they genuinely mean coffee.”

Lisa didn’t tell her parents she’s asexual. “I just went on TV and they saw that.”

In January 2013 an article came out in the Daily Mail featuring an interview with Lisa and shortly after, she went to ITV This Morning show.

“They didn’t really care. It was more like ‘Oh my god you’re on TV!’ rather than what I was on about.”

In her spare time Lisa writes teen fiction under the pen name of Lily Crussell. Many of her books got rejected by publishers because they didn’t have sex scenes in it.

“Obviously they don’t have sex in it, they’re for teenagers, and they said it was completely unrealistic. Apparently teenagers are doing it like bunnies all the time!”

Being an asexual adolescent Glen is a 19 year-old mathematics student at Southampton University, from Egham, Surrey.

“All the way through puberty all my friends were starting to talk about how they wanted to have sex and I just never really understood. I thought I was a late bloomer. But at this point I think it’s a bit too late.”

It was just over a year ago that Glen came across AVEN. “I was 18 and I got to the point when I started to think there was

Glen Ireland, 19 is back in his hometown Egham during Easter break.

something wrong with me. Finding out that there was a whole community, felt great!”

AVEN was founded by David Jay, who in 2001 was a freshman in sociology studies in San Francisco. Jay spent ­ about all of high school, 4 or 5 years, trying to understand his sexual identity. “I had gone through a real struggle coming to terms with myself and I didn’t want other people to have to go through that struggle,” says Jay of those years.

When it comes to defining himself Glen says he’s not entirely sure but he thinks he is aromantic, which means he doesn’t feel the need to be in a romantic relationship, but he is still open to a platonic type of relationship. “People draw the line in ­different places,” says Glen, “It’s more about what you feel is romantic.

Some people feel that hugging someone is ­romantic, but I just hug a lot of people so I don’t see it as romantic. ­Kissing would be romantic for me.”

Glen decided to come out when he was back home last ­Christmas. He was happy that his friends understood ­without getting into a lot of private questions. “Most times people want to know about your sexual and masturbation habits. ­People take it as a challenge to go through your history and find

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“I appeared on a guys magazine with pictures of hot women and cars.

That was fun.”

When people ask a lot of private questions due to his asexuality Glen thinks it’s because they try to prove him wrong. He says: “People get unconfortable when things don’t work the way they should.”

s­ omething that proves you wrong. Because to them is seems quite robotic and soulless. They see sexual attraction as quite something that unites all humans.”

Glen believes that his parents have a very hard time ­understating what asexuality is.

“They seemed completely blown away by that. Blank faced.

They said: ‘Haven’t you said that you liked this girl?’ And I had to explain them that liking someone doesn’t necessarily have to be in a sexual way. It’s a bit frustrating at times but it could be a lot worse.”

Glen shares a lot of interests with his father, for instance Game of Thrones, which could be a bit awkward when a sex scene comes on.

“I make myself as small as possible. I try and avoid looking at my dad in the eye. I would feel embarrassed, but a lot of my friends say that they would never watch it with their parents either, so I guess it’s normal.”

Asexuality is not low libido Michael Doré, a 31 year-old, mathematician with a PhD from Warwick University, started identifying himself as ­ asexual when he was 14. He drew the concept of asexuality from 80

­ iology, thinking it was a suitable word to describe himself. At b that time there wasn’t a community and Michael only got to know AVEN in 2009.

“Asexuality is not an obsession of mine, I don’t go around ­saying that I am asexual, I only bring it up when it’s relevant.

For many years I didn’t feel the need to join the community. It was nice to know it was there, though.”

Michael appeared in some articles on asexuality. “I featured on a soft-porn magazine called Foreplay that did a feature on asexuality. Later on I appeared on FHM (For Him Magazine), a guys magazine with pictures of hot women and cars. That was fun.” (laughs).

Asexuality is the fourth option among the different kinds of sexual orientations, alongside heterosexuality, homosexuality and bisexuality. Oversimplifying a bit, we could say that there are two genders, and basically we can be attracted to the same, the opposite, both or none. However, because gender is not ­binary, it breaks down the whole sexual orientation thing.

“This is very true in particular within the asexual community, which is a very gender-diversed community. For some reason it has a disproportionate number of people who don’t fit into the binary. So you can be asexual and simultaneously gay, or lesbian or bisexual or transgender.”

Asexuality is not the same as low libido. Some asexual ­people have low libido, some have normal or even high libido. The difference is that asexuality means lack of sex drive directed ­towards someone. “Say I am on a desert island” says Michael, “I am a heterosexual man and there’s only men there, then I

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am not sexually attracted to anyone. I still have a sex drive, as my body is still producing a certain number of hormones, but I still don’t want to have sex with anyone. Some asexual people have sex with themselves, some just abstain. It’s really down to the individual.”

Asexual family Not feeling sexual attraction doesn’t preclude the possibility of having children. Hayley, 25 year old, asexual, romantic, is the mother of Imogen, 3 years old. Hayley’s partner is not asexual.

“I don’t mind having sex occasionally. It makes him happy. I guess if I didn’t want to, he wouldn’t have been happy about being in a relationship.” Hayley doesn’t have an interest in sex. Previously, she has been in a platonic relationship with ­another asexual for 5 years.

Like her, many other asexual parents choose to have their

children naturally. They have sex just to have the child because it’s easier than adoption, although there are also some asexual parents who decided to use artificial insemination.

About explaining sexuality to Imogen when she will reach puberty, Hayley says “I will make a point of explaining that it’s not all black and white, that there’s a whole spectrum. She can be anywhere on there and that’s fine. She knows already a large variety of people. One of my best friends is transgender and Imogen sees my friend both as him and her, depending on what my friend is wearing. Children tend to accept people as they are.”

Lisa lays back on her chair feeling the sun on her face and says “I really want to be in a relationship, get married, move out of my parents’ place, have my own house with a garden and a dog. I love dogs!” Her attention is caught by a fluffy little white dog frisking on her direction. In a muffled squeal, she stands up and goes stroking the dog on its back.

Hayley Richards, 25, defines herself as a Pagan. On 21st March she celebrated the arrival of Spring with her local community of druids.

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