Foreigners

Twenty years ago, Norway was fairly homogeneous, but today, it’s looking more like the melting pot we call America.  Over 20 percent of Oslo’s population is made up of foreigners.

Because Norway’s economy is strong, they have jobs.  Many people from the Eastern Block come to do the work Norwegians feel is below them.  Nearly every woman in my Norwegian class had a job as a cleaner.  One cleaned a slaughterhouse, another cleaned ferries, one cleaned hotels, another cleaned at the hospital and My Pal Vestina cleaned fish.  I’m sure Norway wouldn’t be as clean as it is, if it weren’t for the foreigners.  If someone doesn’t speak Norwegian, cleaning is about the best job they can hope for.

There are other foreigners populating Norway these days too, many from the Arab nations.  Some have come as refugees because America was bombing their homeland, but prejudice runs deep against Muslims, so they have a hard time even finding a cleaning job. Most don’t work, but they still live well off welfare.

It didn’t take long for word to spread about how generous Norway’s socialized systems are, so even if someone isn’t inclined to work for a living, many foreigners have figured out how to get their foot in the door and benefit from all the handouts. 

There’s been an epidemic of Arab men marrying Norwegian women that aren’t very “desirable” either because they’re not very attractive, or they have some developmental problem.  They have a predictable routine wherein they start going to church, meet a woman, treat her like a queen, then quickly convince her to get married without telling her family.  After three years of being married they can become permanent Norwegian citizens with full benefits.  So, after three years, they get a divorce and then often return to their own country to bring back the real love of their life, who can now also become a Norwegian citizen.  It happens time and time again and it even happened to one of Kory’s relatives who was slightly brain damaged at birth.  It was so sad to watch it play out, as everyone knew how and when it would end.  And it did, right on schedule.

We had one Arab guy in our Norwegian class.  One day our substitute teacher made it clear she was fully aware of his “agenda.”  She was teaching us about pronouns, and she asked this guy if he was married to a Norwegian.  He said he was, so she wrote on the board, “Hans kone er norsk.” (His wife is Norwegian.)  Then she wrote, “Han liker hun.” (“He likes her.”)  But as soon as she wrote it, she said under her breath, “I sure hope so.”