Like school pupils all over Europe, AUDREY ANDERSONwrites, Norwegian teenagers have this week been returning to classes – though with some notable exceptions
MODUPE ELLEN Awoyemi looked forward to three occasions in the summer of 2011. One was the celebration of her 16th birthday on August 14th. The second was beginning her first year at Drammen Videregaende School.
The third item on her checklist was to join friends on a summer camping trip to Utoeya island in Tyrisfjorden, a summer camp destination for politically engaged teenagers and young people associated with Norway’s Labour Party.
But Modupe only got to fulfill one of her aims. She was one of the victims of the Utoeya massacre on July 22nd, 2011.
In the past few days, children and teenagers all over the country stumbled early out of bed to face the new school term. But others faced the cruel task of remembering 68 students who would not be returning. Modupe should have been joining her friends at her new school.
Instead 1,400 teachers and pupils gathered recently to mourn the loss of a student they never got the chance to teach or know.
“It was healing for all to mark it in this way,” said Trygve Andersen (54), a political science teacher at the school. “It helped in so many ways.”
Johanna Hauge survived the nightmare on Utoeya. She was one of Modupe’s many friends and now faces the future without her close friend and confidante.
“I am glad that I am alive but so many of my friends died – one of them was Ellen,” said Johanna at the school’s commemorative service held to remember Modupe and the other victims.
Modupe, known as Dupe or Ellen to her friends, typified the multi-ethnic nature of the ruling Labour Party and of Norwegian schools in general. Her mother, Lola, fled Kenya more than 20 years ago to live in Drammen, in Buskerud county, not far from Utoeya.
The Norwegian national memorial ceremony held two Sundays ago was also a timely reminder of the loss of so many young lives. The majority of the Utoeya victims were aged under 18 years, some as young as 14.
The pictures of each youthful beaming face projected on a screen as five actors solemnly announced each name bore poignant testimony to their youth and their loss to their families and to the wider community. The survivors, who witnessed the death of many of their friends, had nightmarish experiences as they tried to escape and hide.
Education minister Kristin Halvorsen sent details of advisory precautions to schools outlining how they should handle and help students with the psychological effects of the terrorist attack. She emphasised the need for a monitoring overview for those directly affected and further support if needed.
She concluded by saying that “a purposefully structured school day can be really helpful in a difficult time for students and young people”.
The need to balance structure with the need to recognise a national tragedy is also an important aspect. Jon-Hakon Schultz, a researcher at the Norwegian Centre for Violence and Traumatic Stress Studies, emphasises the importance of involving children.
“A lot has been spoken about a new Norway after July 22nd and how we are all a part of that process. There is to be more democracy, more openness and more love. The educational challenge is to involve students in such a way that these words are meaningful and relevant for them.”
Today’s children will tell their children and grandchildren about this. The date July 22nd, 2011, will be recorded in history books and revised school curriculums. Historically, the date will join another dark period in Norwegian history, the German occupation of Norway on the morning of April 9th, 1940.
It will surely also go down in posterity as a unique time when a whole nation united to reassert its core values of democracy, tolerance and inclusion. The floral tributes and commemorative services mobilised a nation in sorrow. King Harald revealed himself as a very human and compassionate monarch. The prime minister, Jens Stoltenberg, showed true leadership skills in a time of crisis. Social cohesion, not hate and revenge, captured the mood of a nation trying to come to terms with a monumental tragedy. In Oslo, which has a population of 600,000, as many as 200,000 people poured into the July sunshine to support a rose parade. Mass mobilisation on this scale had not been seen since May Day, 1940. It was a summer of loving messages, memorial events and floral tributes.
A new study from the Uni Rokkansenteret in Bergen and the Institute for Social Studies in Oslo shows an increase in trust between Norwegians and especially towards strangers.
“There is a more positive mood in Oslo. It is as if we are sticking together against a common enemy which has brought us closer together in a strange way,” said Rune Olsgaard (48).
“I feel I am more included as a Norwegian since July 22nd,” said Abimanju Wijayendran (17).
Overall, there is intense relief among both Norwegians and immigrants that they were not dealing with an attack by Islamist terrorists, as was originally suspected. Abid Raja (35), a prominent Venstre (Left) Pakistani-Norwegian politician felt the same. “The first thing I felt was fear. Everyone thought it was Muslims who were behind this, including me.”
This is a country which rightly has prided itself on being one of the best, and until now, safest places to live in the world. Norwegian national pride has been undermined by the actions of one of their own.
As Oslo gets back to normal, the single rose is prominent once again. The municipal and county elections are now under way. Roses are traditionally handed out by Labour Party campaign supporters. Only time will tell if the “sympathy effect” for the Labour Party will be sustainable; it is already waning. But the rose, symbol of solidarity and freedom, will live on in the young.
Crown Prince Hakon posed such a challenge when he addressed the youth of Norway within days of the tragedy.
“It is you who will shape and determine which Norway we will have in the years ahead. Each one of you is priceless. But we have lost many.”