Oslo's untold story

THINK of Norway and you imagine tall, blonde, blue-eyed and white people. Go to Oslo, its capital, and you are in for a surprise. All around you are rainbow colours, all the colours you find in the world. Shades of black from African countries, Senegal, Sierra Leone, Ghana, Nigeria. Shades of brown from the Palestine, Lebanon, Turkey, Iran, Iraq and other countries of Central Asia. More shades of brown from Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka. And white from East Europe.

In the last five years, the face of Oslo has changed. From being a distant and much more insulated city, compared to its other Scandinavian counterparts, Oslo has now become like most other major European cities. It reflects the realities of migration, of exile, of the search for a home by individuals and communities around the world.

Amongst those who have made this city their home are thousands of Pakistani families. Many of them have been in Norway for over three decades. They came in officially as workers which Norway then needed. Now with family reunion being permitted, and marriages, their numbers have increased substantially. The Pakistanis are a noticeable presence in Oslo.

If you walk down one of its main streets, practically every shop is owned by a Pakistani. They sell groceries, fresh vegetables, fabric and ready-made garments. Mohammad Ali and his wife Anaida Begum have run their clothing store for 17 years. They speak fluent Norwegian, with a strong Pakistani lilt.

Mohammad Ali stands behind the cash counter while Anaida Begum, dressed in a black gown with a black headscarf which slips on and off her head, deals with the customers. She cajoles them, jokes with them, talks them into buying shining colourful fabrics that have travelled from Pakistan and India. A little girl looks longingly at the glass bangles on display. There are tiny ones available in her size.

As soon as I walk in and introduce myself, I become victim of South Asian hospitality, which never changes regardless of the location. Rubina, who helps the couple in the shop, is sent off to make a cup of tea as we stand around and talk about life in general and life in Norway in particular.

Anaida Begum does most of the talking. She is a powerful presence. "How do you like living in this country?" I ask. "Oh, it is very peaceful," she says. "We went to Lahore recently for three months. There was so much noise and filth there. We were really glad to get back."

But were they worried about the next generation, I ask. "Oh, we will not let our children become like the Pakistani children in England," says Anaida Begum. She says that she has insisted that her children stick to their customs even if in school they have to conform to the Norwegian dress code. And she strongly disapproves of the song and dance numbers in Hindi films, shown widely on Zee TV, which is popular with Indians and Pakistanis. "The way you Indians are going," she says, "you will soon exceed these people in the West!"

And what about marriage? Boys can marry Norwegian girls if they want, or if they need. "It helps some of them get Norwegian citizenship," says Mohammad Ali. But girls? They must marry Pakistanis, ideally from the home country.

I ask Anaida Begum whether she thinks life for women of her class is easier in Pakistan, where she would get domestic help, compared to Norway. Not at all, she insists. "It is best to eat food that you have cooked yourself," she says. "The issue is not how you fill your stomach, it is what goes into your stomach."

The Begum, I discover, is more fastidious about cleanliness and food than most people. She says she never eats out in restaurants. I presume that this is for religious reasons. But Anaida Begum's objections are not to the way the meat is slaughtered but the way the dishes are washed. "Have you seen how they wash dishes in this country? They put them all in a machine!" she exclaims. "And have you ever seen the cloth with which they wipe dishes? No, baba, I will never eat in these restaurants!"

But then she must have to work a lot, I suggest, given that she also spends time in the shop. "Oh, no," she says, "food at home is cooked by my betiyan (daughters-in-law)."

That, in fact, is the real story behind the apparently well- settled immigrant communities in these countries. It is hidden from view and comes out occasionally when women turn to centres for women in distress. For behind the shining shop fronts and the confident women walking around in their traditional clothes are hundreds of women who feel trapped and helpless.

I hear of the other side from Sepideh, a young woman from Iran. Her parents come from the Baluchi part of Iran, which adjoins Baluchistan in Pakistan. On both sides of the border live the same people, separated by an international border. The Baluchis of Iran are a minority, they are Sunnis while the ruling majority are Shias. They also have a distinct tribal identity. And they have felt marginalised under the Shah and under Khomeini.

This young woman's father escaped execution after the revolution that brought in Khomeini. The family lived in Pakistan for a couple of years before getting asylum in Norway. Now 22-year-old Sepideh considers herself Norwegian in all respects except in her emotions, which remain firmly tied to her homeland.

She also knows the choices other young immigrant women face. Sepideh tells me stories of forced marriages, of young women who have grown up in Norway being forced to marry virtually illiterate young men from Pakistan. They come back with these husbands, who can then help in the family business. But life for the woman who has been exposed to a different culture becomes a misery.

The other women are those who come to Norway as brides to resident Pakistanis.

They too struggle in the cold, without any knowledge of the language, of the customs. Most of the time they are bound to their homes where they spend their days cooking and taking care of their homes. When they turn for help, they speak of being psychologically oppressed by both husband and mother-in-law.

The subjugation of women, in the name of religion, or culture, does not change - even in locations thousands of miles away from the homeland.

KALPANA SHARMA

E-mail the writer at ksharma@vsnl.com

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