Fuelhkie – family
Text: Marianne Kappfjell. Drawing: Ramona Kappfjell. Photo: Per Anders Kappfjell and Merethe Kvandal. Translation: Liv Marie Sandve
To be a family, to be standing in it, to stand gathered. Under constant pressure, voiceless, invisible. Insignificant.
Leo Andreas, Christina, Ramona, Mikal Anta, Per Anders, Marianne.
The mountains and the reindeer; giving us a future, an identity.
We have a past, a story. Layers and layers of generations.
Applied knowledge, spoken and lived, conveyed through ancient paths of transmission.
Ear tag, owned, inherited, given.
Survival, survival, survival.
“We are still here”.
In a dream I am in a hillside, the mountain is bleeding, the bloodshed is pulsing, while machines are drilling and roaring, hammering and thundering.
The reindeers are lost, wandering back and forth. Flat ears, panicking eyes. The calf is being thrown off.
I am calling, calling and calling, but nobody is listening.
No sound can escape my mouth.
Mikal Anta is falling, Leo is falling, Ramona and Christian are falling, I am falling, Per Anders is falling.
The mountain does not provide grip, and nobody sees and nobody hears.
I can not reach them.
A road of construction, we are watching. Large, coarse rocks, and big, sharp cracks in between.
A doe is searching, moaning, seeking and running in big circles.
Where is the calf?
In this moment we hear low grunts, further down the road. In between the rocks.
Ohnne miesie.
Little calf. Fell between the coarse, sharp rocks in the road. The mountains are shaking, and silence falls between the blocks.
Once again there is grunting, everywhere. Ohnne miesie, everywhere. Calves who have fallen between the rocks. All of the calves.
STOP THE MACHINES!
This is our future lying clamped between rocks, dying.
STOP THE MACHINES!
The development of wind power at Øyfjellet is both unnecessary and against the law
motvind 