High North Stories in a Time of Transition by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nonfiction, Social & Cultural Studies, Social Science, Anthropology
ISBN: 9781351804868
Publisher: Taylor and Francis
Published: 2018-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

Persistence

The Green Lady barrels out of the Glass House parking garage, rocks shooting from her tires. The bags of baked goods and loaves of bread fit with ease into the expansive trunk, newly clean before becoming covered with crumbs and empty bags as it was before. Sheena sits in the back seat by the open window, her scruffy ears blowing back in the wind. “It is very good to be driving my car again,” Shirley warbles. A green lady in the Green Lady, she’s bundled up in an emerald hooded sweater adorned with the Irish seasons across the chest – each represented by an umbrella-toting leprechaun dancing in the rain. “And – I don’t know if you saw my Facebook post – I talked to my Russian friend last night, and Ramazan finally got his papers in Germany after waiting for weeks. He is on his way back to his family in Russia.” The car picks up speed as we enter a roundabout. “Today is a very good day.”

We park the car outside of a Norwegian housing project – an expansive white building that houses low-income families and youth. I carry an entire chocolate cake and two loaves of bread, while Shirley, a bag of pastries in hand, heads up to apartment 202. After a tepid knock with no response, Shirley uses her ring to tap on the door. Shuffling and hurried footsteps grow louder on the other side of the door. Barakat answers in a white tunic and loose fitting trouser, traditional prayer clothing known as salwar kameez, in celebration of Eid al-Fitr – the holy day marking the end of Ramadan. He invites us in and apologizes for the delay. The aroma of burning incense – rose and sandalwood – thickens the air. A few feet from the entryway, Barakat’s wife, fully covered, kneels down on a small rug, palms and head to the ground in salat. Their son, no more than one-year-old, clumsily runs around with a toy car in hand. After two years of waiting, the family is finally together again.

Shirley and I take a seat on their couch, while his wife – now changed into a long black skirt and black shirt, her dark hair pinned in a bun – boils water for tea. “Look, we are official,” Barakat beams. He pulls out each family member’s light pink and blue card of residency and passes them to me and Shirley. “Oh, Barakat, you all look so happy in the pictures too. Very, very nice,” Shirley praises. Barakat’s wife places tea cups and cookies on the coffee table, which is covered in a colorful tapestry. He hands and legs are covered with ornate henna. “In Dubai for the occasion.” She points to her hands and lifts her skirt slightly to reveal more henna on her leg. Their son runs around, laughing and playing, his eyes round and smiling like his mothers. Barakat scoops him up and points at Shirley. “Who is that?” he asks his son. “That’s Mama Shirley, isn’t it?” The boy reaches over to hug her.

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