Everyday life at the Red Cross Nordic in 2019 - and in 1995

The dispatched RCN-students return from the peace ceremony in Oslo to Haugland. At school it is back to everyday life- although it might not make sense to talk of routines and normality in the context of such a vivid community.

They wake up in the student residences and walk the two hundred meters to the heart of campus. Between the residences, the administration building and the classrooms, lies an assembly building with a canteen, auditorium, library and study room. The distance is short from the breakfast table - where Ghulam, Edda and all the others are now eating - to rooms that are designed for the exchange of information. While the canteen is wide with big windows looking out onto the fjords, the auditorium appears deep, with rows of seats ascending steeply from the stage. It matches the steep mountainsides surrounding the building. At present, there is still only daylight filling the hall. The room has an air of solemnity, despite the modest materials from which it is built. Slowly, the students arrive, one after the other, from the breakfast table to the auditorium where they take their seats. I, who wrote this book, visited the school with a new pair of eyes that I am using to find a seat that nobody has claimed yet. I am reminded of my student days and how visible outsiders used to look. Apart from the College’s employees and students, three are not many dwellers in this community. Still, Haugland Rehabilitation has at any given moment around a hundred and fifty patients and employees, and a lot of them pass by the school on their way back and forth to the center in this little stretch of fjord. The landscape has not changed in the 25 years since my student days. Neither has the general dramaturgy changed substantially. The Rektor welcomes everyone and proceeds to introduce a guest who will hold a presentation for the plenary. Today it is the Chair of the Council, Pär Stenbäck. He stands there without a manuscript and speaks non-stop for three quarters of an hour. The theme is democracy and the lack of it:

1. The first generation of teachers.

2 Elin, Edda, Ghulam, Leanna and Manuel in the Oslo City Hall.

3. Most of the time the dress code is informal, but there are also times for dressing up.

– I have heard powerful people call democracy the worst of all systems, says Stenbäck who in Finland may be an equivalent of what Thorvald Stoltenberg is in Norway: a former Minister in various fields but most famous for being the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Stenbäck also worked as General Secretary for the Nordic Council of Ministers at the International Red Cross (IFRC). He is the author of several books on democracy and related topics.

– Throughout history, attempts have been made to destroy the legitimacy of democracy or simply to discredit it. Does democracy hand out rights and benefits to the people? This seems to be what some people expect from democracy, Stenbäck continues:

– People start doubting democracy. They witness growing inequality. In many countries participation in elections goes down. In African countries most leaders call themselves democratic. But conservative forces are at work in the underground to prevent change. Look at Sudan. It took twenty years to overthrow a dictator. China proves that it is possible to have a successful economy without democracy. It is a handy model to use for those who want to undermine the idea of democracy. Will democracy survive or not? Can democracy exist without political parties? Stenbäck asks and gives a tentative answer: “No. One needs institutions that support democracy by building bridges between the governing powers and the people.”

Stenbäck has much experience with Finnish politics and Nordic organizations. In the north we are raised to give our opinion in any kind of discussion. Not everyone sitting in the auditorium this morning was used to raising a hand on all occasions. Some grew up in societies where they had to be diplomatic, discreet, or silent.

After the presentation there are nonetheless many raised hands.

– Troughout history, attempts have been made to destroy the legitimacy of democracy or simply to discredit it.

– Do you believe sixteen-year-olds should have the right to vote?

Why do so few cast their vote during elections?

The keyword in Stenbäck’s answers is patience. You must first get to grips with one thing before

Jump for UWC!

approaching the next. Besides, political processes are quite resistant to change, says Stenbäck.

20 Years earlier The questions that the students are asking the Finnish Honorary Minister seem to reflect both curiosity and a critical mindset. As an alumnus I conclude that much - and nothing - has changed here at RCN since it opened. The high temperature - as well as the feeling of great seriousness that pervades the Auditorium now - was the same in 1995-1997.

While the pioneering students were at RCN, there was a civil war underway in Yugoslavia:

In 1991 Slovenia was fighting for its independence from Yugoslavia. The people’s army intervened, and a civil war broke out. When RCN opened in 1995 there were students from each ethnic group in the federation represented. One of them was Bosnian Elma Daut. Only one month before coming to Flekke, she had lost her mother in the Srebrenica-massacre. Naturally, this had had a terrible impact on her. At the same time there were students belonging to the same ethnic background as the perpetrators of the massacres. Srdjan Djurovic from Serbia was one of those students. In 1996, Jelena Vojnic also came to the school. She was from Montenegro and we became roommates. Jelena and Srdjan became friends. Srdjan would constantly come to our room, and discussions were loud. They would switch languages from English to Serbian as tempers flared. It was emotional and complex. At times it is even hard to distinguish a discussion from an aggressive argument for someone like me to whom their language was foreign.

But Srdjan always returned. And Jelena and he stuck together. Like all the others, they lived, ate, and studied together. We were fellow human beings who felt that we needed to address certain issues because we lived together here on campus. Personally, I could feel it on my body from the very first day what it does to you to be part of a group of adolescents who together make up a “deliberate diverse” student body.

As a part of a TV program on the channel NRK broadcasted in 1999, a student from Bosnia, Lana Kecman, was asked if she still harbored any hope for peace. «Certainly! », Lana replied. She made no attempt to hide her conflicting emotions about enjoying peace while war raged on at home:” All of the Balkans is like a stranger. The situation saddens me. I think about those at home all the time.

Born in Exile - feeling at Home. Also, in 2019 the conflicts around the world shape the everyday routines at school. Some examples are the migration crisis, the tensions between religions

Around the fire on the Haugland Iceland, 2015.

and secular norms around the world, unrest in the Middle East and in Sahel, and the possibility of a major conflict between USA and China. There is an American president who pulls his country out of international collaborations, and there have also been reports of a contagious new coronavirus from Wuhan, China. Yet another virus that makes humans sick and reminds us that we live on a fragile planet. But for Pär Stenbäck the most urgent issue is the threat to democracy. One of the main points in his lecture is that everyone must join in and help build a new democracy through active participation.

For dinner, we gathered in the canteen again. I meet Jonathan who is from Sweden, queuing up in front of me. He hands me a soup bowl. He has read the sign above the bubbling cauldron. Soup, he tells me. When it is my turn, I recognise Lapskaus, which I was always taught to call a stew and not a soup. But why not eat lapskaus from a soup bowl the way Jonathan does it? The dish is a version of Goulash after all.

We take a seat at a round table. Sitting at this table reminds me of a friend. Kristian was a student here from 1996 to 98. He did some of his medical studies in China and has since then taught me a thing or two about Chinese culture and language. One of his lessons was that circular tables mean good fortune for meals and conversations. Everyone can take part and talk to each other across the table.

– The food’s been improving every year, says the young man beside me who knows that I am an alumnus. Then suddenly somebody chimes on a glass with a spoon. A group of students standing by the salad bar are holding up a picture of a little boy. They start telling us that Gedhun Choekyi Nyima was born today on the 25th of April in 1989. At the young age of 6 he was declared the 11th Panchen Lama of Tibetan Buddhism. He was the reincarnation of the preceding 10th Lama. He was captured and accused of fraud. He has been in Chinese captivity ever since.

The boys encourage everyone to sign Gedhun’s birthday card that is laid out on a provisional stand by the notice board.

On a bench the next day, I am sitting beside one of the students responsible for this special birthday card. She was so articulate when she told the story of

But why not eat lapskaus from a soup bowl the way Jonathan does it? Te dish is a version of Goulash after all.

that captive man. Equally clear in her speech, she now tells me her own story:

–I usually start off the story about myself by saying that I am Tibetan and feel Tibetan without ever having been there, says Tenzin, who is about to conclude her first year at RCN.

– I come from a Tibetan community in India and am a third generation Tibetan. We are refugees without being recognised as such. All this motivated me to become a patriot, an attitude that grew more pronounced here at school: Here I can talk with people who will listen. When I talk about myself, it often involves a lengthy introduction. People want to know how I can feel Tibetan without ever having visited Tibet. We have this Tibetan community - in India, is what I usually answer. There is a Tibetan parliament in India. I have a yellow, Tibetan ID card but no passport. Traveling is always very time-consuming for us. I could apply for an Indian passport, but that never felt natural.

But now, as a student at UWC you lead an international life. Will you maybe travel home this summer?

– Yes, this summer I will travel home to India, Tenzin confirms.

School landscape.

Te need to work harder UWC offers Tenzin an extra option with regards to identity. Here, she is ‘permitted’ to be wholly Tibetan, not just a Tibetan-in-exile. In a sense all UWCers could be seen as being in exile, since they all live away from home. When I question Tenzin about the future, what she would like to study, and what her chances are for attaining those goals, she explains that exiled Tibetans in India must work harder and prove themselves more to secure their places in schools and at universities:

– Grades are very important, especially for Tibetans. We follow an Indian education system where everything is assessed: behavior, grades, English skills and of course, the test results. It was a long and tough application process at UWC. We were interviewed by four Tibetan military men. They questioned me about my relationship to Tibetan history and politics and about global relations.

Then you came here and can now compare yourself with people from all over the world. Has the hard training from India’s school’s primed you in any way, do you think? – Yes, I believe so. I feel comfortable and in control of the faculties. Math, Physics, Chemistry, biology. I want to go on to study medicine after UWC.

– How do you feel about living, working, playing sports, and doing other activities together with your fellow students from China?

– The Chinese and I get along. We try talking to each other even if our ways of thinking about most things do not align. We try listening to each other. But our countries tell very different versions of history. In my version, our common history begins in 1949 when the Chinese were officially allowed into our country. In the beginning we believed they had come to help and protect us. The turning point was 1959 when they stole our land. In their version of history, Tibet has always belonged to China. The situation has left Tibetans disillusioned. They suffer from being accepted neither here nor there. One of my goals in this life is to change the troublesome feelings related to this.

I manage to ask a final question about Tenzin’s everyday life at RKN before she runs along to her next lesson. And my question is not all that unrelated to where I started this text: that meat-heavy lapskaus stew. Tenzin has always been a Buddhist. I want to know how she can practice her religion at school.

– There are vegan alternatives for every meal, Tenzin tells me and adds:

– I can practice my religion in the Silent House on

There has been a gradual expansion of the campus. Here the new centre for visitors under construction in 2014. campus. There are others who use it with me, especially in the morning. It feels nice sitting there hearing the others, a couple of praying Muslims for example, beside me. That is a special way to start my day off, one of the things that makes me feel at home here.

The school endeavors to make youths whose families reside on the other side of the world, feel at home. How did all this happen? RCN’s history would probably look a lot different depending on who tells the story. That is why I will tune in to other voices in the following chapters. It is an attempt to paint a picture of the processes that created the school, from top to bottom, east to west, from an architectural perspective, with regards to politics and administration, economy and budget, or else with the focus on the UWC’s core values. We will meet people who, each in their own manner, left a mark on the College, throughout these 25 years.

Constitucion work just before the opening.