Aléatoires, futiles et biaisées

After more than two years, I am overdue for a decent retrospective. Sweden has been really nice to me, welcoming and warm at times, now, we have to sit down and talk.

I landed here the way a boat wrecks itself against the shore. The natural consequence of tough times on the high sea. I was also looking for a lighthouse, but there was obviously none in sight.

My very first year was an Erasmus-reloaded. Not as singular as my Russian time, but notorious in its way. Party, some study time, Euro travel and so on. No much to be told about those times, as my mind caved and wintered most of the year, whereas intellectual stimulations reached their peak while watching The Office or flickering through fallacious papers like Aftonbladet.

I then started to work. Turning point on its own, far from only being an unexpected source of revenue, it opened me the door to that Swedish world I had desperately been looking for. Afterall, I came to Borlänge in order to isolate myself from overly urban cities, hoping to get a clear grasp of the Swedish culture and way of life.

I got interested by Sweden at the age of 11. My dad was working on the road quite a lot back then, and he had to work in Ottawa, which by then seemed quite far from home (a good 200km…). He could stay over the week-end and my siblings and I took a train to join him in the capital. I liked Ottawa, with all of its museums, Sparks street and its roasted nuts store, staying over at what then seemed like the Ritz to me (a budget hotel called Welcome Inn). The museums were definitely the best though (I came later to notice why: There is hardly anything else in our venerable capital). I liked the war museum as much as the science and technology museum. But that day, when we came to meet Dad, we went to the Museum of Civilizations, which my siblings really liked, because there was lots of places we could play. It is also the time I first remember I had to speak english well enough to get by, which I obviously did not back then. The language part was essential to the mandatory bricolage activities. It was early December, the frost started to be omnipresent and the Christmas spirit was slowly coming along. In the hall, there was a large choir of young girls, mostly blonde, dressed in long white robes, holding candles. The setting was dark, their voices were clear and high, I remember my amazement. It was a Swedish choir for the Santa Lucia celebrations. At 11, you don’t really have a definite interest in girls, but you sort of start to notice that they are nice. And how! I came back home fascinated by this far away country. I even held a presentation at school about it. Then, when I was a little more grown up (and less excited by the exotism of blondes), I became interested in international development, cooperation and humanitarian work. And who came across again? Sweden, obviously. Not without its flaws when it comes to foreign policy, they at least fulfill (and even surpass!) their promises when it comes to contribution to development money. Canada is obviously tarnishing in its corner, playing cowboys with Russell Williams and Peter McKay.

So that was my far fetched link to Sweden, in addition to stupid reasons like blue being my favorite color and coincidentally one the Sweden’s color, as well as their impressive hockey potential. When I first looked at the satellite map of Borlänge, I was delighted to see the roof of a massive building that could only be a hockey hall. To my greatest disappointment, the building in question had been a short-lived a sports hall, before becoming the biggest (and lamest) shopping mall of central Sweden.

To come back to my story, my part-time placement as teaching- and program-assistant had been a turning point in my Sweden tale. I had already long understood that Sweden’s labor market is an insider market. Not far from Africa’s nepotism, you have to be « in the system » to be « in the system ». If the last sentence sounds paradoxical, well it’s because the situation is paradoxical. So I had my chance there. I worked hard, came up with ideas, stayed at work sometimes until 11PM. My boss and colleagues liked my work, I think. They trusted me more, and I made my way though the system.

Now, I am a PhD student. A future economist, for instance. Those words sounds funny in my mouth. I feel better about it everyday… When I was a teenager, I was dreaming to become a diplomat, the sort of agent of change my beloved grand-pa had been. I later rebuked the whole red-tape procedure, part of my rebellious mind, perhaps. But the taste for change stayed.

My short time so far in Uppsala has enlightened me. I am daily in touch with tremendous minds, thinkers of all sorts, with the obvious debates that arise. I find those personal contacts much (much!) more stimulating than the mind-numbing mandatory course work of the first PhD year. I see myself think much more than I did over the previous years in Sweden, I dream about crazy things, I am a little restless for projects. This is good.

But down the road, I also became a little Swedish. This is really funny. The aesthetics, the politically correctness, the social behavior, the cocooning à la Swedish, all of those things slowly make their way into me. I am ashamed to say that I even drink Folköl (3.5% beer) with pleasure…

I am now about tho end a chapter in my Swedish life. At the end of the month, I will be leaving Borlänge for good. I have to go back a long way to the past to find myself staying such a long time (2 years) in the same place. I really enjoy the city life, with its lights and shades, but my new home will also be a little away from civilization (oh well, 10 minutes from Arlanda airport, 20 minutes to both Uppsala and Stockholm, but still…). It will be my very own oasis of peace, hidden between the trees, not far from the chaotic waters that link Sweden’s great lakes to the Baltic. I am deeply looking forward.

Also, for the first time, I don’t have to ask myself about my future. There is no week where somebody does not ask me « What will you do after your PhD? ». Well, I usually answer that I hardly know what I will do next week-end, so to answer that question boils down to predict long-term weather. Quite inaccurate and pointless. I will be doing this PhD will my guts and what remains of my brain, and we’ll then see. This somehow brings me peace of mind…

I am now off to a nice bike ride…