Reykjavík Grapevine - 11.09.2015, Blaðsíða 18

18 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 14 — 2015
rauða húsið
r e s t a u r a n tEyrarbakka
“Very good food,
excellent service
and a very friendly
restaurant.”
“Amazing seafood in
this little town...”
“Not to be missed. Food fabulous and
staff wonderful ... This spot is worth the
trip to the small village alone.”
raudahusid.is
Búðarstígur 4, 820 Eyrarbakki • tel. 483-3330
open for lunch & dinner 7 days a week
1
1
Selfoss
Hveragerði
Eyrarbakki
to Blue Lagoon
ca. 50 min.
to Reykjavík
ca. 45 min.
to Þingvellir,
Gullfoss, Geysir
ca. 45-60 min.
39
“One of the best
restaurants in Iceland.
Fresh lobster, amazing
cod fi sh!!”
“Our privileged continent
must wrap up its
colonialism; its borders
and racist institutions,
before it can scratch the
surface of the disaster it
has made of history.”
Having endured persecution, fear, flight
and agonizing uncertainty, the six fami-
lies were finally home.
Flight
By the early 90s, nationalism had re-
placed communism as the dominant
force in the Balkans. As the Yugoslav
Federation commenced its slow, pain-
ful process of disintegration, centuries
of animosity between Serbs and Croats
reached a boiling point. Growing tension
between the two Slavic ethnic groups re-
sulted in acts of violence and persecution,
with the region’s few mixed-marriage
families being especially targeted.
Like so many others, the six fami-
lies that eventually found themselves in
Ísafjarðarbær were forced to flee their
homes and abandon the lives they had
built. With few options on the table, most
of those who fled or were forcefully eject-
ed from their homes found themselves in
mass refugee camps, enduring a gruel-
ling, uncertain waiting period with no
solution in sight.
In response to the refugees’ plight,
various aid organizations, NGOs and
government bodies began actively work-
ing to relocate as many of the refugees as
possible, providing shelter, counselling
and the means to integrate into a new so-
ciety.
Home
The six families that would become Ice-
landers were airlifted from such refugee
camps directly to their new hometown
of Ísafjörður. With no idea of what lay
ahead, it’s easy to imagine that the refu-
gees felt anxious and disoriented as they
found themselves in a strange town on
the outskirts of a strange country, with
no knowledge of the locals’ language
and mindset. Thankfully, those feelings
were not to last, due to an ambitious pro-
gramme that was especially formulated
to help them find comfort and confidence
in their new home.
The programme devised to help the
refugees integrate and adjust was the
first of its kind in Iceland. Crafted with
care and ambition, the programme en-
tails state and municipal governments,
the Red Cross and the local commu-
nity all collaborating closely to ensure
a smooth transition process and ample
resources. It ultimately proved so suc-
cessful that it is now the standard model
for refugee integration in Iceland, and is
currently being introduced and studied
in various nations around the world.
The programme’s main premise was
the introduction of so-called “support
families”—local families that were care-
fully chosen out of a group of volunteers
and matched up with a each of the six
refugee families (all of which were rela-
tively young, with children ranging from
one to twelve years in age). After receiv-
ing training and instruction from the Red
Cross, they welcomed the refugee fami-
lies to their new homes, instructed to in-
clude them in their lives as if they were
biologically related.
Bryndís Friðgeirsdóttir is a project
manager at the Red Cross’ Westfjords di-
vision. As an active member of the organ-
isation when the refugees arrived, she
remembers the process well. "It was so
easy to get volunteers here," she recalls,
smiling. Aside from the support families,
other locals were eager to show their
support and help in any way they could,
Bryndís says, with older townspeople
volunteering to serve as substitute grand-
parents, for instance.
As soon as the refugees’ arrival was
confirmed, the Red Cross put out a call
for donations, Bryndís says. Locals were
quick to respond, with people in Ísaf-
jarðarbær and the surrounding towns,
such as Bolungarvík and Súðavík, pool-
ing their resources and donating funds,
clothing, furniture, and whatever else
might be of use. The support families
then sorted through these donations,
and furnished the apartments that the
municipality had provided for the soon to
arrive refugee families, in an apartment
building in the centre of Ísafjörður.
Eager, Willing
As part of Ísafjörður’s municipal govern-
ment in the mid 90s, local doctor Þor-
steinn Jóhannesson was among those
who made the initial decision to invite
refugees to Ísafjörður, and the planning,
organisation and allotment of munici-
pal funds that followed. He remembers
the time fondly. "All of us were eager
and willing to make this all go as well
as possible,” he explains, “not just Ísaf-
jarðarbær’s mayor and municipal gov-
ernment—every part of the community:
The townspeople, the schools and local
health care administrators all eagerly
prepared for the refugees’ arrival, mak-
ing sure they knew what to do."
When asked whether they faced any
opposition to the endeavour, Þorsteinn
responds there are always bound to be a
few detractors. “Of course. But, we barely
noticed. It was such a small contingent, a
mostly silent minority.”
Integration
For the refugees’ first year in Ísafjörður,
the adults were barred from working,
says Bryndís, so they might spend their
time and energy on acclimatizing to their
new environment. Their expenses were
paid for by the municipality, as they at-
tended Icelandic language classes in the
morning and seminars on Icelandic cul-
ture in the afternoon. The refugees' other
needs were also considered and tended
to, Bryndís says, the programme for in-
stance offering consistent psychological
support.
Meanwhile, the children were en-
rolled in the local school, fairly effort-
lessly picking up the local language and
culture. They were also made to take
regular lessons in their mother tongue,
with an experienced school teacher,
Dragana Zastavnikovic, included in the
group specifically so she could oversee
that part of their education. Bryndís says
that maintaining children’s connection
to their native tongue and culture is a
very important consideration—and that
failing to do so can have grave conse-
quenses, as has been consistently demon-
strated in recent decades.
“I don’t know what would
have happened to us”
Denis Grbic was eleven years old when
he arrived in Ísafjörður with his parents.
"It was different than we expected when
we arrived,” Denis reminisces. “It's ob-
viously a small town, and we had never
been in a place like that before. But com-
ing there still felt peaceful and nice after
everything we had been through. It was
great, really.”
After that first year in Ísafjörður,
the families moved out of the apartment
building, with some purchasing homes in
town while others rented apartments in
Ísafjörður and elsewhere.
Once they had acclimatised, the
refugees eventually started seeking em-
ployment and opportunities outside of
Ísafjörður. Some families stayed in the
area for a year or so before moving on
to places like Reykjavík, Akureyri, and
Hafnarfjörður—where job opportuni-
ties were more ample and varied—while
others remained in Ísafjörður for longer
periods (although all of them have left by
now, almost twenty years later).
“The idea was never that they would
remain in Ísafjörður forever,” Bryndís
explains. “The refugees we hosted came
from big cities, and it seemed evident
from the outset that they would even-
tually want expand their horizons and
move on to somewhere bigger eventu-
ally.”
Denis and his parents relocated to
Keflavík four years after their arrival,
eventually settling in Reykjavík—a fairly
common trajectory for small-town Ice-
landers. Denis still lives there, working
as a chef at Hótel Saga to support his own
family.
"If it wasn't for them, I don't know
what would have happened to us,” Denis
responds when asked how he feels about
the programme in retrospect. “It helped
us get on our feet, to establish ourselves
and find employment. Ever since, we’ve
kept working, and living."
Small Town Advantage
"When they first came, they formed a
close group,” Bryndís says, “but after a
single year, they had become siply a regu-
lar part of the town. In a community the
size of Ísafjörður’s, everyone basically
knows each other, and this of course re-
sults in newcomers being met with curi-
osity and care.”
"I believe this endeavour proved as
successful as it did not the least because
of the scant size of our community,”
Bryndís continues. “It stands to reason
that integrating in a small town environ-
ment, where people are close and take
an active interest in one another, would
prove easy and comfortable.”
Þorsteinn shares the sentiment: "I
think it went well because we are a very
small society here in the Westfjords, and
that enabled us to keep a close eye on the
proceedings."
Small-town life also makes getting
things done a lot easier, with even the
bureaucracy more accessible and per-
sonal than elsewhere. This is also true
for an organisation like the Red Cross,
says Bryndís. “Due to its compact na-
ture, the people at Ísafjörður’s Red Cross
chapter were able to amend the refugee
programme as they saw fit, and meet any
need that arose. For example, if one of the
famililies had many children, we were
easily able to provide them with two
friend families, to make for a more even
match.”
When asked whether she agrees that
the programme was a success, Bryndís
smiles and gives a strong affirmative.
“Very much so. It's important to remem-
ber that we are all human and that we
should care for one another, because we
never know when we will need assis-
tance ourselves. We long since stopped
thinking of them as refugees. They are
Icelanders, plain and simple. Even those
who moved out of the country: they are
Icelanders living abroad. They are us,
and we are them.”
In 1996, the people of Ísafjarðarbær welcomed thirty refu-
gees into their community with open arms. After a period
of preparation, six families of mixed Serbian and Croatian
marriages from former Yugoslavia arrived to take shelter
in the relatively small (pop. 3,500) fishing community in
the northern Westfjords, through the combined efforts
of the Icelandic state, the Red Cross, and Ísafjarðarbær’s
municipal government.
Words by Rebecca Scott Lord
Photo : Archival
Case
Study:
Ísafjörður As Safe Haven
For Persecuted Families