Togo
Saturday, April 22nd, 2006Dette er da en gammel engelsk-stil fra siste året på Ungdomsskolen. Jeg husker ikke hva oppgaven var, men jeg er temmelig sikker på at jeg ikke fulgte den. Men jeg husker at jeg oppdaget Togo på Afrikakartet da jeg skrev den, og siden da har det vært mitt favorittland. Fantastisk bra navn! Jeg har ikke lest korrektur på den, så dere får leve med dårlig engelsk og skrivefeil. Men kanskje synes dere den er underholdende allikevel. God lesning!
Somewhere in Norway 1. 4 in the year 2000
“In the year of 2001, a fleet of alien warships will attack the earth and extinguish the human kind.” The gypsy peered deeper into the crystal ball. “The earth will be a devastated place, where only insects can survive in the poisonous and radioactive environment” She stopped, and slowly … she reached out her hand: “Thank you that’ll be $10”
This was – of course – nonsense, and nothing happened.
This was what actually happened (s?)
Sweden had for several years been suspecting Norway for making fun of them. The government gathered a group of scientists, and gave them a task: find out what the “Swedish jokes” are all about. After studying the phenomena for several years, the conclusion was clear: The jokes had hidden messages inside, that made fun of the Swedes!
The Swedish government had to take action. There was no doubt: Norway was to pay for this insult!
A week later, Sweden declared war against Norway. Bondevik tried to apologise, and blamed the devil for luring the Norwegian people to make fun of the Swedes. It didn’t help, Jöran Persson didn’t believe in God. (And he hadn’t forgotten the Telia/Telenor merging)
I had to leave the country, since I had been an active member of the Swedish-Joke Cult, and had written several texts that made fun of “söta bror”. Since both Bangladesh and China had enough people already, Togo was to be my new homeland. (As long as the word-war was raging at home)
A few days after the war-declaration, I landed in Togo. A small land, somewhere in Africa.
I carried my luggage out of the plain, and looked around. Tan and green was the two dominating colours. People were black. Things were either jungle or desert there, as it seemed to me so far. I went to the little aerodrome to get registered as a refugee. It was a small house, with a big guard standing outside. He looked suspiciously at me, lifted me up and took me to a room where more suspiciously-looking people were sitting. They ransacked me, and searched for drugs. Then, an uniformed small thin man with thick glasses entered the room. I got dressed, and as he sat down behind a table, I gave him my wallet. It contained the papers I knew he would ask for.
Two hours later:
“Weeell, that doesn’t sound likely.” He said, slowly and arrogant. “For the last time: I AM 26, and I’m not coming here to take your jobs and steal your wives! I’m a refugee GODDAMMIT!!”
More hours later:…
“Weeell, that doesn’t sound likely.” He said, still with the same voice, and a little smile. “It’s true! I am not working for the Mafia! I just tend to LIKE black suits, that’s all!”
Late at night:…
“Weeell, if you would just fill in these forms and sign here, the guards take you to the village”
“Thank you!”
I was exhausted, and I think I fell asleep, because the next thing I remember was lying in a bed, being waked by something in my face… I took it away, and felt something crawling in my hand. I opened my eyes: I was holding a green bug at the size of my palm. I sat it on the nightstand and tried to go back to sleep. 3…2…1… A giant bug in my hand!!! I grabbed a picture from the wall, and smashed the bug several times until I felt safe that it was dead. A woman came in – she looked frightened. “Enod uoy evah tahw!!” I couldn’t quite make out the words, but it seemed like if I had just ruined a nice picture and a perfectly good meal.
She was my host, and I hadn’t had the best start in our relationship. She owned the house, and ran a small farm. She had no husband, but it was obvious that there had been one: nine children. They were all from baby level to 15-16 years old.
The government was paying her to give me shelter and food every day for a year. After that: I would be on my own. She wouldn’t let me work at the farm, she thought I was insane, and was afraid to what I might do to the children and/or animals.
I could be staying here for years, so I’d better get a job. I tried to ask S’sètsoh (the name of my hostess) where the all-famous village was, and through primitive gesticulation, she explained that it was close, and she pointed out the direction. I thought: “Close, well, good I don’t feel like walking a mile every time I’m going there.” I followed a path going the right direction, and looked around as I was walking. The tropical trees and plants were amazingly green, and there were flowers and smells that were new. The sun was shining through the foliage, and strange birds were singing their own songs. The brown sand that made the path was very fine, and I could understand how people could walk bare-footed here. After walking for ten minutes I started wondering where this village could be. Time passed, and I was tired. This couldn’t be the right way. Even so, I continued, and one hour later I came to the village.
There were lots of houses: some modern, some huts. There were lots of people too, and they were smiling and talking – until I came. Where I walked, people stepped aside, and everybody was pointing or scowling suspiciously at me. The children were scared when they saw me: I was white. I had a lot of money, so I gave some to the beggars, and bought a lot of useless stuff. This was in hope of being accepted. It didn’t help. I went to what looked like a municipal building, to see if there were any vacancies. There was a note with the word computer on it. “Ekat erac fo eht computer ssenisub f’fus ”To work with computers would suit me just fine. At home I had studied computers for years, and was well educated. I entered the house, and while I was waiting for permission to the boss’ office, I saw The Village computer expertise. They were two guys playing solitaire – on the computer. I could see why they needed to enlarge the staff.
The secretary let me in. It was a nice office, and therefore, the other applying candidate seemed a bigger contrast. He was filthy, and didn’t smell good either. His name was K’cuy. He was the only candidate except from me, and he had a long criminal record. The boss had doubts, but he didn’t want a criminal in his company, so I was hired. Work started early in the morning, so I had to get up very early. It was a long way to work, but it got shorter as the weeks and months passed by. I was getting in shape. I understood why no white man had won an international championship in running/sprint since the early ‘60’s.
I ate at the farm in the morning and in the evening, and worked in between. Some days, I would go back to the job, and work during the night hours. I revolutionised the entire computer system, and ordered new computers, made business contacts via the web, and made the village a wholesale merchant in computer merchandising. As the weeks passed I upgraded the system further, and educated the people in the village. To run the busyness. I worked day and night. Then, one day the boss decided to promote people. The two others got a promotion. I didn’t. They had been playing their solitary, and didn’t really know what had been going on. They were now earning a lot – and now they were playing bridge. I was angry, and complained to the boss, but he wouldn’t listen. I was white.
The other candidate, K’cuy was angry too. I had taken his job. He started an anti-white organisation. They were mainly pissed off because the immigrants took their jobs and their women. They mainly consisted of ugly, unemployed, petty criminals in their late 30’s. In secret, they held meetings were they talked about how bad these white people were. They called themselves Uk-Xulk-Nalk – and wore black hoods. They decided they had to do something about me, and left a scary threat-note at my pillow one night. But they didn’t scare me. (Because I didn’t understand what the note said) More days passed, and Uk-Xulk-Nalk was not happy. They left another scary threat-note at my pillow, but I was too brave for them. (I still didn’t understand what was going on). They gave up the note-project, and came to the farm one night. That’s when I somewhat understood what the notes were all about. I wasn’t hurt, but that was only because S’sètsoh scared them off with her broomstick: they were scaring the children.
Things were getting dangerous. Nobody liked me, and I was kind of sad. They didn’t like me because of my colour, and they didn’t even consider getting to know me before they judged me. I was prejudiced. I wondered what had happened to me if I hadn’t been educated when I got here, or if I hadn’t found a job. Luckily the timing was good: I could go home again. Norway and Sweden had signed a peace treaty. This was because a group of Swedish terrorists had made “Norwegian-jokes”, and Sweden now felt even.
Now, I’m sitting on the plane, on my way home. I have missed my homeland. After all, that’s where I wanted to be all the time, not in Togo. What I have left from Togo is good condition and a deeply tanned skin. I haven’t been treated well, so I’m proud of coming from Norway, a country where we treat the immigrants nicely…