Майя Лунде - The End of the Ocean

I went over to Magnus.

“You went to get him?”

“He wanted to come along.”

“Good. Finally.”

“He has something to say.”

It was only then that I noticed that there was something agitated about Magnus; his movements were sharp, his eyes alert.

We sat down with them by the fire and many people joined us. Sønstebø was treated like a guest of honor.

“Yes…” Sønstebø said finally. “It turns out… that… it seems that we, those of us in Eidesdalen, we think you should end this.”

“What?” Daddy said. “You don’t mean it?”

Sønstebø threw out his arms. “It’s an impressive set-up, all of this…” He waved around him to show that he meant the camp. “And we… we are very glad you’re doing this for us… but we think maybe it’s getting to be enough now. Yes, it’s enough. People should maybe start going home again, little by little.”

At first, Daddy didn’t say anything; several people around them murmured but he was completely silent.

“It’s not that we don’t appreciate everything,” Sønstebø continued, “and we think it’s good that the issue has been in the newspapers and that people in Oslo have been informed about what’s happening. But the way things have evolved, I think it best if we call it a day. Before there’s trouble.”

“Trouble? You don’t have to worry about that,” Daddy said.

“We will have to live with this for many years to come,” Sønstebø said.

“That’s precisely why it’s so important.”

“And we will receive revenue. Waterfall rights?” He turned to face Magnus.

“Waterfall rights revenues,” Magnus said.

“But you’ll lose everything else,” Daddy said.

“It’s just that… it’s enough now. We don’t want any trouble,” Sønstebø said.

“Are you frightened?” Daddy said.

“No. No. We’re not frightened.”

“The man who blew up the bridge is afraid,” Daddy hissed suddenly.

Sønstebø started, looked around him and laughed suddenly. “I was a shot firer, once upon a time, yes. You have a good memory. But I never blew up any bridge.”

He’s lying, I thought, you have to say something, Daddy, he’s lying. But Daddy sat in silence, leaned back a little, his eyes narrowed.

“I think you’ve misunderstood,” he said finally. “We’re not doing this for you.”

“No?”

“We’re doing it for all of us.”

“Yes. Of course. Yes—”

“For our children. For our grandchildren. The waterfalls are supposed to be eternal. Their destruction will be too.”

Sønstebø squirmed. “So you won’t leave?”

“No. We’re not leaving.”

Then Magnus took a step forward. He spoke loudly and a little too quickly. “The people of Ringfjorden are mobilizing, Bjørn.”

Daddy turned towards him. “And?”

“The construction workers are losing thousands of kroner every day the machinery isn’t running. That’s stirred up anger. These are ordinary people, you see, they’ve invested, they are counting on this development. Waited for it. And with every passing day, they are becoming angrier.”

“So much the better,” Daddy said.

“You cannot mean that.”

“More attention.”

“I don’t think you realize what you’ve started.”

“What I’ve started?”

“Yes. You.”

“I’m not the one who wants to develop the river, I’m not the one who sold the land, I’m not the one who arranged the sale of the waterfall rights. I’m not the one who’s married to the head of operations for Ringfallene.”

Mommy—again it was about her, again it was about the two of them. There was no end to it. A break-up lasts forever.

“We’re going to have to live with this for many years to come,” Sønstebø said again. “Enough bridges have been blown up.”

He looked at me as he said it.

After that the camp changed, the singing died out, the laughter as well.

We just waited.

Two days later they came, when we’d been up there for twenty-one days.

It was in the evening and the first thing we saw was a gleam of light above the mountain, then we heard the sound of tires against the wet road.

A convoy—we couldn’t see the end of it, that’s how many there were. They parked in a line along the roadside, the doors opened and men poured out, every single car was full, four or five in each one, some people also came on motorcycles and one even came on a tractor.

They gathered into a group and walked towards the camp. We had gotten to our feet, people came out of their tents, stopped their cooking, hushed the children, left the guitars in their cases, shoved pipes into the pockets of parkas.

They looked like us, we looked like them; I recognized farmers, fishermen, colleagues of Svein at the plant, familiar faces, people I associated with the place where I grew up, associated with security, predictability, men whom I’d perhaps laughed at a little—for their taciturn sturdiness, their lack of knowledge, of education—but also respected, for the job they did, the investment, the ability to take pleasure in the life they had been allotted. First and foremost, however, these were men I had never thought about much, just taken for granted—they were there, they hauled the fish out of the ocean, harvested grain, picked apples, day in and day out, in the sun, in the wind, in the rain.

They had brought signs and banners, all of them hand-painted, like ours, but the message was different.

LEAVE OUR VILLAGE IN PEACE!

GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM!

HIPPIES, GO HOME!

We moved towards the end of the road and they followed suit, approached us from all directions like magnets towards a pole.

A man stepped forward—it was Svein. He had a megaphone in his hand and a thick wool cap pulled down over his ears, he who usually wore a hat. He lifted the megaphone to his mouth and looked around, his gaze swept over me, I was sure he saw me, but it didn’t have any effect on him.

“We, the citizens of Ringfjorden municipality,” he said, “hereby present you with the following ultimatum.”

He took out a piece of paper and started to read out loud: “We demand that the camp be taken down by midnight tonight, so the work on the access road in connection with the development approved by parliamentary resolution can continue without further delay.”

Magnus had come up beside me. He took hold of my hand.

Svein continued: “If you don’t voluntarily clear the road by the above-stated deadline, anything could happen. I repeat: anything could happen.”

Then he lowered the megaphone and put away the piece of paper and cheers broke out on his side of the road. The men shouted, raising their firsts in the air.

Magnus squeezed my hand, whispering quietly, “It’s enough now, Signe, you see that, it’s enough now.”

“We can take more than this,” I said.

But then he dropped my hand and walked towards our tent.

I was left standing alone. I saw Daddy leaning his head towards Lars and a couple of the others; they were speaking quietly together. I approached them. Daddy’s voice was an intense whisper.

“I’m staying here till they have to carry me away.”

“No,” Lars said. “You see them. What they are willing to do. This is over now.”

Meanwhile a disturbance had arisen among the people from Ringfjorden; several of them were screaming and shouting and now they started to approach us, slowly, a huge, crawling animal, and I jumped at the sight of knives gleaming.

They drew their knives on us.

Svein walked forward, positioned himself between us and them, tried to restrain them, but they kept shouting and clenching their knives in their fists.