Living in Whoville

It had always been difficult to sum up the Norwegian character for folks back home. How are they like us? What's different? I never knew how to explain these things. Then there was a moment back in June when the perfect metaphor hit me like a bolt from the blue.
To set the stage: we're just under the Arctic Circle in Mo i Rana (though I kept calling the place "Mo' Money! Mo' Money!" and doing the raising-the-roof gesture with my hands the three days we were there, giving Inki cause to wonder what sort of idiot she had married.) We have just come from a lovely wedding/baptism and are on the way to the reception. To give the couple and their child a bit of a break before the party, we're going on a bus tour of the area that's supposed to last an hour or so before dropping us off at the reception. The road is winding and I don't have a good view straight ahead, and as I am sometimes wont to do in such circumstances, I start feeling a bit carsick. All I want to do is get out of the damned bus. We reach the turnaround and the whole bus realizes that we're only halfway there. I'm trying to quiet my stomach and wishing the hell I was anywhere else. Everyone else on the bus realizes the situation they're in and...breaks into song. They sing merrily away as I push my forehead against the cold window for relief, grumbling and muttering incoherently to myself, and it hits me. They are the Whos, happy and good-hearted, singing out their joy as one. I am the Grinch just wanting to get the hell out of this bus. As I am wishing the seven plagues of Egypt on our bus driver, the man upon whom I have focused my fury, everyone else is singing his praise to the tune of "O Tannenbaum":

"En bussjåfør - En bussjåfør, en bussjåfør, det er en mann med godt humør. Og har han ikke godt humør, da er han ingen bussjåfør" ("A bus driver - A bus driver, a bus driver, that's a happy man. And if he's not a happy man, then he's no bus driver.")

They've got songs for every occasion and will break into song at the drop of a hat. Once, to test her, I picked an object at random (a potato) and asked if they had any songs about potatoes. Inki could only think of two off the top of her head.

There's more to their Whoishness than just the singing and the being happy and nice, though. It's being so nice that they can't imagine other people not being that way. An example: tax records are public here. If you want to know someone's 1) income, 2) net worth, 3) tax paid, or 4) address, the tax rolls are printed out in binders and set out in the foyer of the city hall. They're also on the Internet. In the States if you work for the IRS and look at someone's returns that you aren't responsible for (say Michael Jordan or your next-door neighbor) and they catch you, you're fired. Period. Here it wouldn't occur to anyone that someone might, say, walk down to City Hall and peruse the "net worth" and "income" columns of the tax rolls looking for someone to rob. And, for the most part, people don't.

Although there aren't a lot of criminals, there aren't a lot of jail cells either, so there's a waiting list to get in. Unless your crime is really outrageous, convicts end up waiting to serve their time. Then, when the police notify them that their cell is ready, they are supposed to show up on their own. There was an article in yesterday's paper talking about how 20% don't show up and tracking them down isn't something the police spend a lot of time doing. Given that not showing up is not a crime, that doing so doesn't add to your sentence, and that the cops don't come looking for you afterwards, I think it's amazing that 80% DO show up on their own.

There's a new jail here that is just opening. It's not finished, so the first prisoners assigned to it were chosen on the basis of job skills -- carpenters, plumbers, construction workers, etc. -- and they're finishing the buildings as they serve their sentence. It's sort of like an Amish barn raising would be if no one was allowed to leave the barn afterwards. Oh, yes, and they blew their budget on the cells before they built the planned fence to surround the place, so there won't be a fence to keep people in, at least not for a while. That's one big difference right there: Americans build the damned fence first and worry about cable TV for the cells later.

Not everyone showed up to build their new jail, although most did. One furniture maker convicted of assaulting a policeman was a real disappointment for the work crews when he didn't turn himself in. This guy was quite a talent and had managed to build himself a cabin from scratch in his free time (i.e., when he wasn't out attacking cops). He explained his not showing up to a journalist, though: "I understand very well that they've called me in [to serve my sentence]. I am good with my hands and could have done a good job, but I have such big psychological problems that I just can't [go to jail]." The reporter goes on to say that "after his mother died last year he has strong social anxiety and is afraid of large groups of people." "I would like to serve my time," the convict continues, "but I just can't right now. I need help. I've talked to the police and will try once again to get myself declared unable to serve my sentence."

That's great. He'd really like to serve his time, but he just can't right now. He's got social anxiety, and his mom died. Prison would be too difficult for him. Sorry. Like I said, I still can't believe that 80% show up on their own.