The happiest day of my life (this far) was when a big production company at home told me they want to buy a radio documentary from me. A documentary about children slavery in Mauritania.
Oh My Word how I was jumping around laughing to myself for five minutes. Then reality struck me. I have never made anything close to a radio documentary before. A few short reportage’s, sure, but forty minutes one subject exciting interesting gripping….. no.
It’s ten to three in the morning and I’ve got some sort of flow of nightly creativity in my mind and body. From a chaos of hours of sounds and interviews a small stream of words is finding the shape of … of what?
Challenges enrich our lives.
There is still slavery in Mauritania.
Mbarka was born into slavery and forced to work every day from the day she learned to walk. As she gave birth to her daughter she decided to run away. Two years ago she escaped from her owners and got to a safe house in the capital where she lives today. But her mother and brother are still with the owners, not wanting to get away.
I met her earlier this year, and listened to her story.
Interpreter is my dear friend Rabia.
The second of september I was in Hamburg to listen to The Ark. This is a compund of the sound collected from the concert. Thanks to my friend Patrik, who took these photos, it’s not just a black still pic.
What do you think about when you’re on a train? Rushing through the south swedish landscape, going from Kristianstad to Hässleholm.
This summer I’ve been thinking a lot about The Ark, what they mean to me and I’ve been feeling very sad because of their break up. I’ve been thinking about the good moments with friends, about the ghost house we’ve been to and about those small moments that stays in the mind. About the travels, the big ones and the small. This is a compund of the past summer. Now I’m back in the north, yesterday the leaves fell to the ground as my friend and I walked from the city center. The trees are already colourful and winter doesn’t seem far away.
It’s not the goal of getting there. It’s the road that’s worth it. Just as with everything in life. It’s not where you go that teach you stuff, it’s the path you walk to get there.
The path to the top of Kebnekaise is sometimes full with water, sometimes stoney and sometimes the path dissappears for a while just to reveal itself again on the other side of that river. Somtimes you have to jump from stone to stone, sometimes wade in water. Some parts of the path is the same as the brook, so do not forget good shoes if you plan to walk here.
It takes about 12 hours to trek from the mountain lodge to the top and back again. Start early morning, I never made it to the top because a thick fog came in by mid day. I turned back, admired the surroundings and drank of the water. The water in the rivers in Norrland (“North land”) is the best you get. The air the freshest. The woods not untouched but still the cary a spirit of an old land. Norrland. The northen land of Sweden. I love you.
Charly asked if we wanted to have dinner with him and his friends on the friday night, and ofcourse we did. “What do you want to eat?” Hmm, something french of course. Celine suggested Raclette, and that’s what we made. At the subway they sang us a french song, Aloette, but didn’t want to tell us what it meant. It was mean and bad they said. We played guitar and went to a rock n roll club later in the night.
And now, as I’m about to upload the sound, I realised that the beginning is from thursday night, and the dinner from friday. So it’s actually part of two nights in Paris.
We left Charly’s place in the forenoon, walking towards the castle in Vincennes to have breakfast in it’s shade. On our way there, we came across a childrens festival with hundreds of children dancing and laughing. And, as we arrived in Paris, we found ourselves in the middle of a demonstration. People from former French colonies wanted their papers. Their right to school, health care, homes and work.