14 Aug 1998

Hi all,

I promised many of you that I would write in detail about my first week in Denmark. So here it is. Some of it is transcribed from my journal, which I write every night. At the end of each day it is nice to reflect on what has passed since every day here brings with it some new challenges.

Like I mentioned in my previous mail, the first weekend in Denmark was spent entirely in meetings. A forum called “common meeting” brings all my team mates back to DNS every couple of weeks to discuss issues regarding our finances, travel plans, Danish, our studies, and the experiences in our different work places. The trip to India is now slated for Jan 5. Hopefully we will not have to change this departure date again.

The economy works in a strange way. Essentially we pool in all the money we earn and then spend from the common pool. All the figures
are 7 or 8 digits long and figuring out what goes where is a little tricky. Not one to shy away from moola, I promptly signed up to be part of the core group that will handle all the finances. 🙂

Considering how much money is earned and spent by so many of us, this thing is going to require some careful micro-management. Each of us gets a small amount (we decided about 600 DKr) as pocket money every month.

Our rent and food is deducted from our salary. Before we leave for India each of us needs to earn the equivalent of 3 months pay + 25.000 DKr. The 25K is meant to come from selling postcards, newsletters, grants from family, friends and others, or any other means one can devise. I already brought with me about 12K so I will need to find some way to earn the remaining 13K, which I will probably do by working for an extra month at this school since I have no desire to sell flowers on the streets of Copenhagen in the middle of a Danish winter! It is still a little unclear whether I can do some programming job on the side but already it is obvious there will be little time for that.

Speaking of the weather, it is frighteningly similar to English conditions. This summer has been particularly wet – it has been overcast most of the time, except for a couple of wonderfully sunny days. One such day was Monday when I left for Gansager, the school where I will be working over the next 3 months. In order to save money, which is the mantra at DNS, all of us hitch hike rather than travel by train. These are very long distances and I am the luckiest of the lot in that my school is just about 150 kms away from DNS. Some others have to travel right across the country, more than 500 kms. Like everything else in Denmark, train tickets are so very expensive. We would not even be able to afford a single return trip on the pocket money we receive. In fact when I went to cash my traveller’s checks the bank charged me 20 kroner for each leaf, which amounted to nearly $100! Luckily the headmistress of the school was with me and she asked them to waive the charge. The Danes are willing to pay these exorbitant prices and massive taxes (40%) in return for their social security system. An unemployed person could receive about 5000 Dkr every month and live quite happily with 3 very decent meals each day. There are a few very rich people but the average over here spans a large percentage of the population. I guess it atleast ensures you are not starving.

Initially I was very skeptical about hitch hiking across the country but I must admit it is quite fun. At least when you are lucky. The people you meet on the road are so varied and interesting. Of course only certain kinds of people stop to give you a lift since many do not approve of hitch hiking. But these are especially fun to talk to because they are probably doing something offbeat themselves. Like the mother of three who is a mink farmer – she took us to her home and fed us lunch before sending us off on the next leg of our journey! Or the factory worker who makes doors and windows, who had driven 16,000 kms on a 6-month trip to Australia and had given a ride to a hitch hiker for 1500 kms across the country!

The school I am working at is one of the 30-odd schools under the Tvind system. These schools are special in that the children who come here are drug addicts, juvenile criminals and from broken homes. The “normal” schools will not retain these children so the Tvind schools try to rehabilitate them. The kids are very lonely here. They have not had much affection in their lives and they are driven to some rather hard physical work here. The idea, of course, is to keep the kids so busy they do not have time for mischief or to shoot drugs. But whatever is achieved, which I fear is not much really at a fundamental level, is through sternness and hard discipline. Fear is rampant and is the only ruling force. The kids form a very tightly knit group and do not let you enter it easily. My first couple of days were really tough because the kids were very hostile and brash.

It takes time to get used to such harsh language, thoughts and actions from one so young, and I certainly had no adjusting time at all. As you know I am not much of a disciplinarian and these kids just chewed me alive. And I let them. I figured I could not take on a role I was not cut out for – I could not even pretend to be authoritarian if I wanted to. Besides I was convinced that behind the swagger and contemptuous look lives a kid. A confused and abused kid perhaps but a kid all the same. I wanted to see if I could connect with that child in them. They had grown up way too quickly and they wanted attention. The only way they knew to get it was through extreme behavior. I endured two days of hostility and last evening the chink in their armor opened just that wee bit. The transformation was remarkable. Overnight these kids were walking into my room to talk about their lives, drugs, parents, teachers, friends, religion and what not. They were smiling and greeting me at each step, as if finally they had all decided that I qualified to be their friend, not
one of “those ****ing people” – teachers, parents, and the rest of
the world that had castigated them.

For instance, take Jenny (the name of course has been changed). During one of our breaks while digging a trench for a picket fence I asked Jenny about the vicious scars on her forearm. Some of them had been self-inflicted and others were reminders of nasty battles on the street. When I asked if they hurt, the defensive mask was quickly in place and she said, “not when I am angry.” In the afternoon, we went to the beach by the North Sea. After taking a dip in the waters, Jenny held up her arm to me and said it hurt. Of course the salt was penetrating the fresh wounds but I wondered if she was making a reference to our earlier conversation. Perhaps she was too proud (and even afraid) to acknowledge the pain directly. I did not want to pry open the only the defensive mechanism she probably possessed, so I just let it be.

Or consider Johann. He has been to jail twice for armed robbery. He has stolen any number of cars, raided shops, and vandalized public property. I asked him why he chose to steal and he said he needed the money to buy hash.

“Why steal? Why not work instead?”

“It is the same thing – it is just as hard to steal money. Besides everyone is doing it, some more directly than others.”

“If I gave you a job tomorrow where you can earn some money without stealing, would you quit stealing?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it hurts my mother’s feelings.”

“What about your feelings?”

“I don’t care about my feelings.”

“Why not? Are they not important?”

“No, my life sucks. I have to die any way, so I want to have some fun before dying.”

A sample of the kind of conversations I have been having. Another one was on religion – these kids are amazed that I do not smoke (let alone hash), drink, eat meat or have sex at the drop of a hat. They asked if it was b/c of any religion (one of the kids knows about Shiva), and we then started talking about religion. One boy said all organized religion was nonsense b/c all it does is brainwash people into thinking the way the organizers want them to. Then they can control the poeple and make them do whatever they wanted. He said the only religon that makes sense is to do what one truly believes in. So I asked him “in that case, how are drugs different than religion?” He thought there was not much difference and he felt we need to fight against religion, politics and drugs.

One of the teachers at the school saw me interacting with the kids and told me I need to be firmer or else they will take advantage of me. He said “remember, they are after all abusers.” I was left speechless as I kept wondering what insanity leads us to believe 14-year olds who have never known any affection in their lives could be labeled as abusers. Were these kids truly abusers or just the abused? Soon they might graduate from one to the other, and the vicious cycle will continue to propogate. Unless some how they can gain some self-respect and believe their lives are really worth living. More than society allows them to.

Arvind