A Neverending Affair (7 page)

“I can s
ee that friend meant a lot to you,” Sandra said, perhaps the first time ever she commented on something personal.

“Yes
, she did,” he agreed. He saw how Sandra startled from the “she.” He continued, “I assume you will you brief Andrea on the situation for the informants.”

“I already did yesterday evening
,” she responded; Sandra, always the efficient and correct one.

The day went well. The Padania
n government had, not surprisingly, staged a counterattack. In a four-page statement they claimed that HRI was strongly linked to suspect elements. For instance, the Manager—that was Olaf—had a background as a human trafficker; the key mission of HRI was to destroy the civilized world by promoting a tsunami of immigrants, criminal and violent immigrants, referring to the proposal of HRI Rome as something that was already adopted by HRI; and the main income from HRI came from one of the oil-producing states that held the rest of the world at ransom. In addition, they collected quotes from a number of somewhat respected citizens in Padania that opposed the allegations in the HRI report. Those quotes were most likely not associated with the report at all, but made in a completely different context, some of them many years earlier.

Most of what they wr
ote about HRI weren’t blatant lies. They were just heavily distorted facts. For instance, that the “oil producing state” was Norway was not stated, which meant that most of the readers assumed they were financed by Nigeria, Venezuela, Saudi Arabia or Russia—God knows which one was the worst. Olaf had once been charged with human trafficking in Sweden for hiding illegal immigrants, charges which were soon dropped. The immigrants in questions, a male homosexual couple from Sudan, facing death on return to Sudan, were granted asylum. 

The press conference went well. Of course
, there were provocateurs from the Padania government there, and representatives of the Padania media took every opportunity to ask questions about the allegations from Padania. But allowing Olaf to tell the story of hiding illegal immigrants in an attic for four months didn’t exactly put him in a bad light, rather the opposite.

Apart from the usual friends at the
press conference, there were correspondents from
Le Monde, 20 Minutes, Der Spiegel, Dnevnik, Delo, Die Presse, Der Standard, Corriere dela Serra, La Stampa and La Republica
, as well as several news broadcasters, all of them posing well-crafted questions, allowing Olaf to convey a somewhat sharper message than what they could write. On the direct question from
Le Monde
if “fascism has returned to the heart of Europe,” Olaf said a short and simple “yes.” The press from the two countries neighboring Padania, Austria and Slovenia, wanted to understand if there was anything of relevance for them. Olaf explained that the focus of HRI was human rights and human rights only, and that it was not within his mandate to have opinions about other political issues. But as a general statement, he said that there were clear correlations between countries that are aggressive towards their neighbors and those that are aggressive towards their own population, even if there are exceptions, such as China and Belarus.

At the end of th
e day, they met the inner core of the chapter for a debriefing. Some of the members of the chapters asked about the counterstatements from Padania. They just couldn’t believe that a democratic government in the center of Europe could lie like that. Sandra did a good job assuring them that the basis of the report was solid, that there could be some minor errors, but that any such error did not invalidate the rest of the report.

After the Geneva encounter, Olaf and Ronia were in very close contact. Email started to play a big role in their relationship. This was more natural for Olaf. His business contacts had slowly started to use emails. Even some of the African contacts had it, as the costs were tremendously low compared to faxes and phone calls. Still, emails often got lost, or so his business associates claimed. There were viruses and there were lost internet connections.

Ronia had no
other reason than social interaction to start using email. The truth is that she hardly ever used the computer, as it had very little to offer her work-wise, and socially she never saw any value in it. Now she realized how cheap it was to keep in touch with Olaf and others. Email was also a kind of communication that suited her quite well. Letters took such a long time to write, and when the other party got them, the situation described and the feeling expressed in the letter was perhaps already gone. And then the other party wrote a response arguing or discussing something that was important weeks ago.

Telephone
, on the other hand, was so immediate; it gave no time for reflection. At the same time, the bandwidth of a telephone conversation felt so narrow compared to personal encounters. There was no body language, no way to see the face of the other person, which said a lot more than the words. Of course, a telephone call has more information than an email message, to some extent, but an email message was more reflective and you knew, like with a letter, there was some thought behind the words. At least, that was how Ronia’s generation used email, as a kind of letter.

She noted that her niece, Sara, used email in a much more casual way.
Her messages were so full of typos that she clearly never read through them before sending them off. And she didn’t respect grammar at all. When Ronia sent a message to Sara, the response was normally delivered within five minutes. Ronia typically read her email once every second day. And when she wrote a note, she very rarely sent it off the same day. She was still hesitant how the message would be received at the other end. But she had to admit to herself that the prospects of an email from Olaf made her inclined to check her inbox more often. Much more often.

1996-06-20

[email protected]
wrote:

Hi Ronia,

It has now been several weeks since we parted in Geneva. I hope you had a good trip home, that you are making progress with your paintings. From Geneva I went to Milano, to a fashion company that wants to use bracelets and necklaces from my Ethiopian group for their next fashion catalog. It will be a great boost for us. They get them for free, but we get a clear reference to them and to our web site on every page, and half a page for free in the back of the catalog. 

Do you want me to
arrange for a hotel in Gent? I have a friend there that can look around for something nice.

Yours,

Olaf

1996-06-23

[email protected]
wrote:

Dear Olaf,

Thanks for your message. I am still new with this email thing. I don’t know if I should handle it like a letter or if it’s another kind of communication altogether? How do you see it? It sounds like you did great work in Milano. I admire your constant effort to make the world a better place to live in. Sometimes I feel that painting is a bit asocial, not enough in this world, not making it a better place. But then I love my paintings and some people really love my work, and that can’t be a bad thing to do, can it?

Mais oui
, book me a room for Gent. That would be nice. If possible, an old hotel with a nice view. I plan to arrive Wednesday afternoon. I will go by train from Paris, where I will spend a few days with my father. If I leave Paris at around ten, I will be in Gent around four, I believe.

I started a new painting, inspired by Arusha, by African colors and smells. It will be a large thing with strong, but still earthy
, colors. There are masks and fantasy creatures—very different from the stuff I normally paint. I am not sure it will become a good painting, but I got inspired one night and just let it flow. I am not sure it will ever be completed. 

I wish you all the best
,

Ronia

1996-06-23

[email protected] wrote:

Hi Ronia,

Just got your message. Yes, email is its own kind of communication channel. Can’t say I reflected a lot over it, I just use it. Mainly for business communication, where it gives a good track record to follow, especially if you keep the old messages in the body. But after your asking, I started to reflect on it a bit more. Almost instant as a phone call, written as a letter, but much less formal and heavy, more like a post card perhaps? 

I will book us something nice, hopefully in the old parts of Gent. I look forward to seeing your paintings s
omeday. I did see one on the internet, at www.art-inmotion.com. It was an Alpine landscape but with colors that reminded me more of a desert. Perhaps Nevada? Did you ever think about putting your art on the net? 

Thanks for your kind words about my work. I think very highly of you and your work
, Ronia. For me, art or music or other cultural expressions are the essence of humanity. Simple souls like myself can only be grateful that there are others that can bring it out. And that I can be there to help with the practicalities.

I often think about you and our conversations in Geneva. I feel we came rather close and I value that a lot.

Hugs,

Olaf

1996-06-2
4

[email protected]
wrote:

Dear Olaf,

Thanks for your kind words. I also value that we came close. As I told you, I am not spoiled with a lot of social interaction, and it is even rarer I meet somebody with whom I have so many things in common. And who is both charming and still straight-forward. Also, great thanks for organizing Gent.

I have not at all considered putting my art on the net. The whole internet thing is for me somewhat un
real, and its use seems to be mainly for games and pornography (If I should believe what I read). I must admit that I am a bit of a Luddite and basically conservative in those matters, even if I claim to be a social and political radical. Also, where I live, the internet is painstakingly slow, and I can’t see how anybody would like to look at pictures emerging slowly on the screen and then when you’re almost there, the whole thing crashes and you have to start all over again.

Chaleureusement
,

Ronia

They also exchanged ideas about things happening in the world and their r
espective world views:

1996-07-10

[email protected]
wrote:

Dear Olaf,

I was horrified when I heard about Dolly. Why would we try to clone animals and, even worse, humans? It is a bit hard for me to describe my motivations, but I certainly object strongly to cloning in that way. Probably it has something to do with the idea that we can manipulate and select our children. And this is bad already on the personal level, but think if we end up with a situation where society decides who is going to reproduce, whose genes should be mixed and who could just simply be cloned. I mean, how fun would it be to have four Ronias, ten or even hundred? Not that I really think society will favor my genetic makeup. They wouldn’t want more wacko artists, would they? And perhaps I am even more afraid that I would never have existed if cloning was already widespread some forty years ago. I do admit that I hope that miserable sheep will die. I want them to fail, because once we humans of today know how to do something we seem to have to do it. 

Bien à toi
,

Ronia

W
hen she wrote this, the thought of two Olafs came to her mind. If there were two of them, it didn’t matter that he was married. She added:

PS
. I must admit that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if there were two of you, though. DS

She almost pressed the send button, but in the end she deleted the PS and sent it off without it.

Olaf responded that he agreed with her in principle but added that “sometimes I wouldn’t mind if there were two of me, if I could be in two places at the same time, though.”

The communication went on. Often witty, often emo
tional. Many small signals, and a lot of appreciation, was visible in and between the lines, but it was left at that. Neither of them seemed to dare, or want, to take another step. 

He had not heard anything from Diana, so he called and asked her if she wanted to meet, and she
agreed. It was a bit too early for dinner, very early by Italian standards, so they went to a café. They ordered some coffee. He started the discussion.

“So tell me what the secret is with how you manage the finances
, Diana. I’m really impressed from what I see and hear. Most chapters are in dire straits financially, and they come to me all the time with their needs. But as you probably know, we have very little money to assist local chapters. Ten percent of the budget is allocated to chapters and that’s actually supposed to be seed money for new chapters and not money to help those that have been running for twenty years. Most of that ten percent has been used for our chapter in Russia, as you probably know.”

“I don’t have any secret trick
,” she said, “but I guess it’s a combination of the bazaars, some targeted donation campaigns, facilitated a lot by my—or rather my husband’s—contacts in certain wealthy segments of the population and finally just good management, reporting and follow up, the kind of things that I am sure you are very well versed in. These are hard times, but it appears to me that in hard times people are more willing to give than in good times.”

“True. I have noticed many times that hospitality is much greater in poor countries and that the willingness to hel
p one another is greater among the poor than the rich,” he reflected, “and also other chapters report that people’s willingness to contribute is as good or better than before the financial crash. I remember visiting dirt-poor people in Africa and they were more generous than any wealthy people I’ve met. They would gladly slaughter their only remaining chicken to offer you a meal....Your husband. What trade is he in?”

“He
’s in publishing, mainly magazines, but also a smaller book publishing arm and some internet-based publishing, a print-on-demand service and a news broadcast on
Tablets of Testimony
. ’It's a newspaper-like product that’s automatically updated once a day, via mobile broadband, and you can choose your content profile as you wish. The name is apparently ironic. I can’t imagine something further away from
Tablets of Testimony
. A marketing wizard must have come up with that one.”

He nodded, confirming that he knew about it and continued
, “I am perhaps more concerned by your immigration motion than I let you know earlier. I mean, don’t misunderstand me, nobody would support this more than me as a person, as an individual. And I must also admit that it fits very well with the mission of HRI. It’s not that—it’s more the strategy of it, or perhaps the tactics. It will, of course, put us in the limelight, which is good. It may even attract a nice little crowd of new, hopefully young, supporters. But I’m afraid that it will turn out that we lose a lot of supporters who see our job more limited to the traditional freedom of speech, freedom of opinion issues. And in the end, not only supporters in general but also those contributing to our finances, perhaps even our major donor, Norway. You saw that today how our current policies are easily twisted against us.”

“Olaf
,” she said and looked firmly into his eyes, “I hear you, and I do understand you from your position as the Secretary General. But this is an issue of global significance, and it appears to me that HRI is absolutely the best vehicle to move it ahead. The freedom to move is such a fundamental human right, and it is relevant for billions of people. How can we deny them that right?”

After a pause
, she continued. “I have some very personal experiences that made me engage in this issue. I am from Lebanon, from the Maronite part of the population—those are the Christians. My father, who was in publishing, was not in favor of the politics of the ruling party towards Hezbollah, the militant Islamist party. This was in the late 1990s, and he was outspoken about it, wrote articles in the press. One day in December 1999, he just disappeared, and we never heard from him again. Three masked, armed men came to our home the day after his disappearance. They told us at gunpoint—my mother, me and my brother—that we should ask no questions about my father. I wouldn’t just accept it like that but cried to them, ‘Who are you? Where is he? What have you done to him? We have money! We can pay for him!’ My brother tried to calm me down. The leader said, ‘I think this bitch didn’t understand the message. I believe we will have to give her a private lesson.’”

She bit her lip
. He could see tears in her eyes when she continued. “I don’t think I have to go into details. They forced my mother and brother to watch. My brother went wild, and they hit him again and again with the butt of their guns and threatened to shoot him. My mother was frozen, like she’d been petrified. In the end, I believe both of them were more hurt than I was. I think sexual assaults are bad as they are, and I refuse the idea that the victims should take up the burden of shame.

“My brother never
got over it. You know, in our culture, men are supposed to protect their women, and when he failed, he just couldn’t bear it. He didn’t even want to see me afterward. He drank himself to death, ultimately, for him it was either that or to kill those men. But he knew he could never do it. My mother sort of blamed me for what occurred. ‘If you had just shut up, this would never had happened,’ she said the only time she ever mentioned it, a week after the event, when I had started crying. Of course, the death of my father also overshadowed my fate.”

“I a
m so sorry,” he said after a rather long silence. Even if he was used to bad stories from his work, it was not often he got them directly from the victim. He felt a very strong connection to Diana, so the personal effect was bigger than normal.

“Ulti
mately, I went to the Italian Embassy to apply for asylum in Italy. They plainly refused. They didn’t believe in my story. They asked for a medical certificate that I had been raped. I told them that I couldn’t find a doctor who was willing to sign any such statement, that they even refused to examine me when they heard the story, that they were afraid of reprisal from the thugs. To sign a statement would equal signing their own death sentence.

“However, my mother
called an Italian business contact of my father and explained the story to him. Not completely truthfully I understood afterward, but anyway the essence was that I was under threat in Lebanon and that the Italian Embassy refused me a visa or asylum, both of which were true. This meant that I was now in the database of people who would be denied even a tourist visa. She pleaded for this man, who had met her twice very briefly, to agree to keep me for at least a couple of months if she arranged to get me to Italy.

“He agreed very reluctantl
y, not because he didn’t want to help, or because he was afraid of repercussions in Italy, but mainly because he was afraid of my safety. Every week there were new horror stories of refugees drowning in the Mediterranean on their way to Greece, Italy or Spain.

“To make a long story short, he smuggled me himself on a friend’s yacht. Later he said that this was because I was the girl of his dreams, but I know that is an after-construction. He was actually pretty awkward when we met, and I was as well. I feared that he had expectations of me. It took only half a year before he asked me to marry him. Of course, then we still had a lot of work to actually get the permits and all that. The fact that I was once denied a visa was a real problem. Here as everywhere else, a bit of money speaks—I must admit it even if I hate it.”

Olaf was stunned over this story, over Diana, her hus
band and everything. “Diana, I hope you understand how much I appreciate that you told me this.” He fought a tear in the corner of his right eye.

“Thanks
.”