Sunrise/sunset: Up all day.

I thought I’d start this week with a dog level view of the world. This isn’t exactly what Triar would see, because dogs don’t see red, so his world is probably toned in yellow and blue, but at least I got down to his level.

He spends a lot of time running through all those plants at the moment, which must make a change from sinking into deep snow!

When I was growing up, the world I knew was very much split in terms of east and west. There were huge chunks of Europe cut off from each other by the so-called Iron Curtain. Of course that’s a western metaphor, or at least I assume it is. I don’t know how we were regarded by those living within the Soviet Union (perhaps that’s a question for next week!) but I know that I was told that those living there had it a lot harder than us, partly because of a lack of goods and partly because there was an air of suspicion hanging over everyone and a risk of awful things happening if you were found to be in any way less than supportive of the regime in power.

Back in the south of Norway, one of my best friends had grown up in East Berlin. She told me that though there was a poorer selection of food and much less choice, there were things to value as well. Education for all was free at all levels, and everyone, whatever their job, could educate themselves to learn to do it better. And those jobs, though they might not pay brilliantly, were very secure and everyone had a job. There were free sports available as well. In some ways, life was less precarious and safer, from her perspective and my friend obviously valued that feeling of safety over the greater selection of goods available to those of us on the other side.

But I spent some time talking to Konstantin about his life within a very different part of the Soviet Union, living in Latvia. His story was very different and for him, the air of suspicion and the risk of awful things happening was very much more to the fore. Though he was born and grew up in Latvia, his family were Russian. Even back then, he says, there was huge tension between those who spoke Latvian and those who spoke Russian. He compared it to the tensions between the Sami people and modern Norwegians, though not as it is now, in Norway, but as it probably was thirty years ago.

He went to university in Moscow and while he was there, there was a war in Chechnya and a friend of his from that area was simply told one day that his family back home had been entirely wiped out and there was no point in coming back.

And now, with things becoming ever more unsettled, life back in Latvia for the families regarded as Russian (who may have never been to Russia) has become desperately difficult again. He tells me that some of the Russian speakers are now being forced to take exams in the Latvian language and that, if they fail, there is a thread to deport them to Russia. I asked him whether it was like the language tests in Norway for those wanting citizenship. There is a language requirement here, but those over 67 are not required to pass. That isn’t the same in Latvia, he told me. There are no exemptions, and of course those who have lived all their life there and are now old, are therefore the most likely to be living under this awful threat. Many of them don’t have passports and are not eligible to get one, a situation that seems unutterably awful.

Sometimes at the moment, the world seems very unstable to me, in comparison with how it was when I was growing up, but speaking to Konstantin brings it home to me that stability perhaps isn’t some kind of norm that we can expect. He also said that, given that kind of instability, there were a lot of people who might have been civilised in different circumstances, but were made worse by the hardships and would grab any opportunity that came, even if that meant killing someone. No wonder he has found such value living here in Norway, though he says, even now, he has to temper what he writes on Facebook as the authorities back home still watch out for anyone posting negative things and he could find himself summoned by police back there.

I am sorry that this week’s entry is rather bleak, but I am glad that those from the former Soviet Union are, at least for now, able to travel and I can meet them and try to understand better how it felt to be on the other side of that “curtain”. Though I grew up to the background of the Cold War, it was mostly a distant threat, with occasional crescendos of concern when faced with leaflets and information about what to do in the event of nuclear bombs dropping.

And I am also gradually finding out that Konstantin, who keeps a lot of things running in the abattoir, has an interesting history as a veterinary surgeon. He was obviously quite high up in the ranks back home, but values his current position with more limited levels of responsibility. He obviously finds a lot of peace in Norway, fishing and learning about geology. I hope that, in time, his position will be stabilised further.

Anyway, I have to go now and buy some fence posts and collect the long brushes to insert into the gap under the wooden walls of my house to stop all the mice in the region invading my loft next winter. I will leave you with some pictures of the incredible burst of summer as experienced in the far north under the twenty four hour sunlight. Have a good week!