All Are Welcome to Come and Go

I've been busy lately - filling out a lot of paperwork for my residence permit and trying to get my website officially together in hopes of finding more clients. With these tasks I haven't had a lot of time to write, but wanted to post this that I wrote a few months back in the summer.

24 Aug 2011 - Small International shop on Jens Bjelkes

Image from Finn Kart.no http://kart.finn.no/?lng=10.77176&lat=59.91380&tab=search&zoom=17&mapType=finnvector&markers=10.77282,59.91150,r,Sigurds+gate&streetview=true&svx=263689.83805464&svy=6649316.2794884&sa=86.42663139228122&sp=-3.756212058627509&activetab=search&streetViewState=1

"Hei!" I greet one of my neighborhood's most friendly shop-keepers as I enter the door with the vegetables I selected from the bins outside the shop.

"Vær så gå," he replied with a smile as he began ringing up my purchases. I back up to peek around the corner, wondering if the shop carries toilet paper and instead find that a small sparrow has entered the shop and is walking quietly around the two aisles.

"Det er en små fugl-" I begin, but immediately realize my pronunciation of the Norwegian word for bird is hopeless, so I switch to a combination of Norwegian, English and flapping hand motions. "There is a small bird inside!"

As if on cue, the bird appears in the aisle directly in our line of sight. The shopkeeper nods with a small smile and slowly replies in English, "Yes, we are a free shop here - all are welcome to come and go, no problems."

I smile in reply and place my debit card in the machine to pay. The shopkeeper asks if I am from England, but I - somewhat self-consciously - reply no, that I am from the US. I learn that he is from Iraq and has been here in Norway for six years. When I say that I have been here for two years he is somewhat taken aback, asking "but you do not speak Norwegian?" På Norsk now, I pull myself together to say that I am learning and he nods, asking if I have work here.

I am struck by this conversation in how different our situations are. When I meet Norwegians and use the smallest amount of their language, they are surprised that I have learned so much in two years. But here, meeting one of Oslo's many residents who came as an asylum seeker from a war torn country, it is the opposite situation. These refugees are given courses in the language and the culture upon arrival, and their competency in the language is a prerequisite for them staying here.

Norwegian language competency is further necessary for finding most work and surviving financially here - a matter I have been struggling with myself. Having arrived as a student in an international masters program, not only was there no push from the university to become familiar with Norwegian, but we masters students were actually denied admission to the language courses. This upon the grounds of the classes being overbooked and our low prioritization derived from the rest of university classes being taught in English. Often enough, I have encountered this distinct feeling that Norway has little interest in encouraging international students to stay in the country beyond their studies. It makes my position difficult despite my desire to learn and become an accepted part of this place - to make a valid professional and personal life in this country where the man I have fallen in love with happens to come from. Remembering the cloud of dread associated with looking ahead to my next visit to the directorate of immigration, I realize again that for now, in the midst of a long running job search, I have only a tenuous claim to belonging here.