Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.04.2015, Síða 14

14
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 4 — 2015
Language
Culture History
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Ásmundur Sveinsson, The Water Carrier, photo Harpa Björnsdóttir
I have once been witness to racism in
Reykjavík. On a bright summer night,
partying in the streets, I heard a couple
of Icelandic boys howl at two black men:
"Go back to Africa!" In the blink of an
eye, the small groups of young folks
still lining the streets transformed into
a righteous mob out for justice, and the
two Icelanders ran away, fear of God put
into them.
I spoke to the men afterwards. Ironi-
cally enough, it turned out that they
were indeed from the continent of Af-
rica, and on their way back there. They
also told me they had not encountered
any problems in Iceland before the inci-
dent, which they said came as a surprise.
By the response of the group/mob, it felt
clear that casual racism in the streets of
Reykjavík is neither a common thing, nor
something tolerated by the locals.
Sambó, the liquorice
But... there is one thing. Icelanders, along
with their Nordic brethren, harbour a
deep love for liquorice. In Iceland, choc-
olate covered salty liquorice is actually
a thing—quite a popular one. One of the
main producers of liquorice in Iceland
is Kólus, who call their liquorice prod-
ucts “Sambó,” after the often banned
children's book 'Little Black Sambo' by
Helen Bannerman, first published in
1899. Their black candy is named after a
black boy.
The story of Little Black Sambo is re-
ally about a young Indian boy who tricks
some tigers into turning into butter for
some reason. Some have said the story
itself is not racist, just the illustrations,
like the ones used in the packaging of
Sambó liquorice, and the names of Sam-
bo's parents “Mumbo" and "Jumbo.” The
name Sambó is inappropriate enough,
but that it is also a racial slur is another
story. The Racial Slur Database has this
entry on Sambo: "Currently embodies
stereotypes of docility, laziness, stupid-
ity, and disloyalty."
Kólus don’t go as far as calling their
product “Jim Crow liquorice,” but the
name they chose is the second most of-
fensive one they could have gone for.
Seriously, Sambo is second only to Jim
Crow on Wikipedia’s list of “African
American stereotypes.”
Dabbling in drunken
civil rights activism
One drunken night last summer, I start-
ed a Facebook group demanding that
Kólus change their liquorice brand’s
offensive name. I furthermore sent the
company a polite letter asking them to
forego Sambó.
The response I received for my Face-
book group was underwhelming. I said
Icelandic people are not racist, I never
claimed they aren’t apathetic. As for my
letter, Kólus never answered, and I de-
leted the page a week later. Thus were
fated my attempts at drunken civil rights
activism.
Last week, however, a friend of mine
sent me a picture of Sambó's packaging
that show a tiger following a young black
boy. This is not the version that goes on
retail shelves, so I had never seen it be-
fore. I thought: "This is going too far."
Yes, just the name Sambó is going too far,
but using a picture of a black boy to sell
black candy is going farther than far.
“Negri” this and
“negri” that
So, I called the offices of Sambo HQ and
spoke to a man who claimed he often
speaks on behalf of the Managing Direc-
tor. My intention was to ask him whether
they ever thought about the racial con-
notations of the name. Before I could ut-
ter my question, he started ranting:
“People that take offence to this
name are seriously sick... If we wanted
to name it after a black person, we would
have just named it Negró!”
Throughout our conversation, Kó-
lus’s representative used the word
"negri" often, and does so here when
suggesting the name "Negró.” An ar-
chaic Icelandic term for people of co-
lour, mostly acceptable until the 1970s,
“negri” is now considered the Icelandic
equivalent to "nigger." Our conversation
went on:
But why name a black candy after
a black person?
“It isn't. It's just a name we like.”
Why then is there a black boy on
some of your packaging?
“If you look closely, he is running away
from a tiger. There aren't any tigers in
Africa.”
I understand that the original
story happens in India, which
has tigers, but no Indian has such
curly hair as the little boy in the
picture.
“The main point is that people who have
a problem with this name are sick, sick in
the head, there are many sick people in
the world; the Muslims that are fighting
each other in the Middle East, the pilot
that flew that plane into the Alps. You
can't endlessly pander to sick people.”
Do you understand that this is a
racial slur in other parts of the
world, for example in the US, and
the name Sambo has a different
meaning than you maybe even
realise?
“Then, those are just sick people. And we
don't export much anyway.”
I wanted to ask him if they ever con-
sidered renaming their liquorice, e.g.
Samba or Mambo. But he said he was
busy and hung up.
After that exchange I was a bit taken
aback, I was expecting a rehearsed spin,
pointing out it was just a children's story
and so on. What I got was a tidal wave of
the word "negri," which you usually only
hear from people making fun of stereo-
typical racists.
A sweet and salty relic
Common views on different races, sexu-
alities, religions, et cetera, can be quick
to change in Iceland. Gay people were
often assaulted in the streets in the early
1990s—by the end of that decade they
flooded those same streets by the hun-
dreds, dancing in celebration as they as-
serted their rights. With children hold-
ing balloons cheering them on.
I accept that the name “Sambó” is a
relic of a simpler, more racist time, but
that does not mean we should condone
it. I will continue to boycott Sambó li-
quorice and they will continue to feel the
repercussions. You can help them see the
light by sending them an email at kolus@
sambo.is.
Appolo's liquorice is better, anyway.
You probably know that when a sentence begins, "I am
not a racist, but..." the second part of that sentence is usu-
ally destined to be pretty racist (which is the polar op-
posite of when people say, "Well, I am no scientist, but..."
where what follows will definitely not be scientific). My
father once said to me "I am not a racist, but..." and then
exclaimed, "... I was once in an elevator in New York with
a black guy, and he smelled."
Racism | In Iceland?
By Gústaf Hannibal
@balinn74
Photo by Stefanie Mnich
A Letter
On Icelandic
Racism, Which
Doesn't Exist
By D. Atacho
@Damsan2910
Grapevine recently ran a few articles
about racism that greatly annoyed me.
Let me explain myself. I am Dutch. I’m
Dutch Caribbean: an Antillean. I have an-
cestors that have worked on a plantation,
others have owned it. In my family trees
are German landowners, Spaniards,
Native Americans, African slaves and
Chinese sailors. I’m a dark-skinned (fyi)
melting pot, which is the norm for most
people coming from the island of Cura-
çao, where I am from.
In my experience, after living here
for over a year, Icelanders are not racist.
I spent eighteen years in Curacao, after
which I lived for three years in Maas-
tricht and two years in Berlin. I also spent
six months in New York before moving
here. While holding a Dutch passport, as
all those from the Dutch Caribbean are
bound to do, I have been discriminated
against in the Netherlands. We’re seen
as and registered as “foreigners” even
though we’ve been part of the Kingdom
for longer than most of the south of The
Netherlands. I’ve been called a dirty
Turk, been told that “All Antilleans are
uneducated parasites,” and been given
nasty glances by some of my fellow Dutch
citizens.
In Germany I was brusquely told that,
as I’m in Germany, I’m expected to speak
German. And while that’s not a racist
thing to say, it was definitely not friendly
or welcoming toward a foreigner. I’m not
even going to mention New York.
But in Iceland? Never. People here
have always been friendly and welcom-
ing. And yeah, there was a restaurant
with a black man’s caricature on it, and
people have painted their faces black for
a party. So what? I come from an island
where every December, Sinterklaas and
his blackface Petes hand out presents to
little kids. While this has sparked a huge
debate in the Netherlands, the islands,
where slave trade actually took place,
wouldn't think to get rid of this tradition.
Icelanders are not racist. They are
also not politically correct. Their blatant
curiosity, while occasionally intrusive, is
also extremely charming. When you’re
from a homogenous population and you
meet someone that looks different, of
course you want to know where they’re
from, what they’re doing here.
I am tired of these oversensitive peo-
ple constantly pointing at stuff and call-
ing out “racism!” Political correctness
has made the race issue something it is
not: omnipresent. Mistaking curiosity for
racism is extremely dumb. Generalizing
the whole Icelandic population to the
possible 0.0001% that actually doesn’t
like you because of your skin colour… well
that’s racist isn’t it?
Icelandic People
Are Not Racist, But...