A Christmas of Uncertainties

Christmas celebrations are as many and as different as there are diverse cultures in the world. It is the strongest tradition among Christians because it is a re-enaction of the birth of Jesus Christ, the son of God. If Jesus Christ died on the cross to save mankind from all its sins ( against humanity), then his nativity proclaims the existence of hope amidst all the ills that plague the world.

In the beginning of December this year, two important events took place that would have significant consequences for everyone. First, is the Climate Change Conference in Bali, Indonesia - which purpose was to secure a majority consensus to a successor pact after the Kyoto Protocol expires in 2012. The Kyoto Protocol aims to fight global warming, yet 16 of 36 industrial countries have problems with their allowable carbon emissions.

United States has not ratified the Kyoto Protocol, saying in 2001 that it was unfair to exempt the developing countries from targets. (Kyoto obliges rich nations to cut greenhouse emissions by an average of 5 percent by 2008-12 from 1990 levels, but allows them to pay developing countries to cut emissions on their behalf through a trade in carbon offsets, according to a Reuter news.) The carbon offsetting scheme is called Clean Development Mechanism, and is seen to suit both the rich and poor countries because it makes it cheaper for rich nations to meet their targets while helping the poor nations to curb their emissions.

Failure to reach a new international consensus implies a catastrophic scenario for the world in terms of droughts, floods, heat waves, diseases, melting of glaciers and the rise of the sea level. Although the Bali conference ended with some optimistic note, one remains sceptical if national interests are not overly served in the face of a general outcry for a common solution to a pressing, and all too real environmental issue.

The other event of significance to Europe in particular was the summit conference in Lisbon, Portugal between European Union and Africa Union. It was an important meeting that was put on hold for several years because EU had no common approach to Robert Mugabe's reign of terror in Zimbabwe. But Mugabe's grandstanding against the imperialistic West should take a lesser priority in the light of an urgency to bridge the relation gap between EU and Africa. Just now, China has advanced its claim on Africa's natural and cheap human resources for its own expanding economy, while EU seem content and assured that its colonial ties with the continent will hold. It is a wrong assumption to view Africa as a continent in perpetual want of aid, neglecting its potential for growth and self-development. Perhaps it is time to treat Africa as a matured individual and not one with a crutch to be led on.

While the world grapples with very serious and urgent issues such as armed conflicts going on in at least 32 countries in the world, we take a brief Christmas pause to look at our inner world, the family because it is the very core of the Christmas spirit. When we continue to remain a family that values love, respect for traditions and morality then there is meaning in Christ rebirth and renewal. #

Between a Saturday and Sunday

It is difficult to predict what might happen on a Saturday and Sunday outside of boring household routines such as washing schedules and house cleaning. After an often stressful five-day work where you stretch the limits of your brains to cope with your deadlines, you do look forward to a relaxing weekend. What is a perfect weekend?

Last weekend was First Advent. It should have been work- free Saturday except that a colleague begged me to replace her. So I worked and when I got home after three in the afternoon, I saw that most houses in my neighborhood already had advent lights on the windows. I had problem digging through my storage to find my advent lights, but I found three among several I bought the past Christmases. Then I went into a cleaning frenzy, hoping that my Sunday would be pleasurable. I was going to hang out with my granddaughter Ariana while her parents got a special Sunday health treat at Hasselludden.

But this weekend, like most recent weekends felt more burdensome. I read both Swedish dailies, including the past issues I missed and the contents are heavier on the environmental problems. With the world conference on climactic changes opening this week in Bali, Jakarta, there has been a heavy dosage of articles on the subject since about a month now. The world is getting warmer, the glaciers are melting, the days are thirstier for water. Is this good news for countries in Northern Europe that have winter for six months? Many think it is an act of benevolence as living in fierce winter can be bone-breaking. But what about in developing countries in Asia and Africa? It will mean food scarcity due to long draught and lack of rain. More hunger. More sickness. And poverty continues.

Ariana and I had a nice lunch of grilled salmon in Vällinghus centrum. She was very eager to tell me about her latest school project at Kungsholmen gymnasium. She did a comparative study of Portugal and Mozambique and thought she did a good work. Yes, it was a study of the colonizer and the colonized. I said that Portugal was a bad colonizer in comparison to Great Britain because it did nothing for its colonies such as Mozambique ( where I lived for almost five years) Angola and Guinea Bissau. They were just Portuguese overseas provinces. I told Ariana that Spain did exactly the same in the Philippines. It was the Catholic church and its missionaries that introduced the administrative system - population census incl. births, marriages and deaths. It was more for taxation than anything else.

We went thought her school album, there she showed me her classmates, best friends, favorite teachers with explanations why "she loved her Swedish teacher" and thought weired of her young Math teacher. Then we went through the different school clubs, and I was very impressed that she had chosen several worthy cause-oriented clubs such as environment and Amnesty. Looking at those faces on her school book made me think that in some ten years, these young people will be running the country. Ariana said that she was going to do a social science study about the growing violence among young people. An excellent choice of a current social problem eating away at the moral fabric of society.

When I drove Ariana home to Bagarmossen we passed by Skogskyrkogården to light candles in Bo's grave. The forest cemetery was beautiful in its stillness and many graves were lighted. This will be the first Christmas without Bo, who loved everything about Christmas like a child lost in fairyland. It will also be different for Ariana not seeing her grandfather in his Santa Claus attire, long after she discovered Santa's true identity after seeing and concluding that both Grandpa and Santa wore the same wristwatch.#

Escape to Riga

Swedish weather is sadistic. It always rains on special days such as the midsummer in June, the green Christmas for the Swedes. Everyone, especially children, go out wearing crowns of flowers on their heads and dance around a decorated letter T-shaped pole. But it rains and the sky never smiles. The same thing happens on All Souls' Day and All Saints' Day on November 1 and 2. In Sweden, they celebrate only All Saints' Day, a day when the living visits their departed loved ones, wherever they are laid to rest.

I did not go to Skogkyrkogården to visit my beloved husband. Snow came on that day and it was blowing cold from North pole. Bo would have wanted me to do something more fun to remember him. So I escaped to Riga, Latvia's vibrant capital. I made a last minute booking with Tallink-Silja and luckily discovered its crazy week discounted cruises.

Riga is known as the "Paris of the Baltic" and I must admit that this is not far from reality. In fact, it is a truly beautiful city of astounding architectural achievement. The old city is a landscape of gentle hills and slopes, a rivulet passing through and trees studded along the lanes. Castles and cathedrals at various locations and buildings with art noveau designs give the city a unique ambiance of old and new, ancient and modern. The Baltic sea lies beside like a protecting mother.

I have been to Tallin, the capital of Estonia many times. It was there I went when it rained so much in Sweden last midsummer. It is also a beautiful city but in a different way. It does not have the softness of Riga's city landscape. Tallin's old city is nestled above a high ground that overlooks the town center and the sea. Old Riga lies beside the sea and its sprawling commercial center.

It was interesting to watch the people walking in the park, shopping in the modern gallerias and I was very impressed at how fashionable they were dressed. Street-smart, as they say, and what one would expect to see in Paris or Milan or any of the fashion-conscious cities of the world. Most of the people I saw were young and good-looking. It was like watching a fashion show in a huge park. Even in the boat "Vanna Tallin", my co-passengers were smartly-dressed young people speaking what I presumed to be Russian.

I've always been curious to learn more about the Baltic states and its people because they are exotic and their histories are rich. Just now they have exciting economies that defy stereotype prognosis. The Nordic countries, especially Sweden, seized the opportunity to extend investments in the Baltic region. It is paying off handsomely.

My escape to Riga was an eye-opener. It was too short. I merely saw the surface of things. I did not experience or see Riga's throbbing nightlife which judging by the number of advertisements one reads in all the Baltic newsletters, are many and strongly competitive. There are gourmet restaurants for the food afficionados, health and beauty centers, theaters and museums. That's for the next escapades. And Vilnius, Lithuania also awaits.

Remembering you with love today, Oct. 30th

Today would have been the 25th year we would be celebrating your birthday and it is special because you would be turning 75 years. A great age of wisdom gathered from social and historical interactions with different peoples in different places and at different times. Times of peace and times of war, where you had been as Swedish diplomatic representative.

You were in Africa on two diplomatic assignments. The first was in Botswana and the second was in Maputo, Mozambique. You sowed seeds of solidarity and goodwill with the Frelimo government in Maputo, with leaders of the African National Congress (ANC), and with other African leaders in Southern Africa. It was not an easy assignment being a diplomat in a newly-liberated Marxist-led country that was not yet healed from the ravages of colonialism. You came home every end of the day carrying a heavy burden from not being able to do enough amidst so much poverty. When we left Mozambique in early 1987, the Swedish development assistance was significantly raised to new levels.

Besides the countries you helped to gain a foothold in Swedish aid and trade, you were even bigger in your personal relations to the small people, like your embassy and household staff. You had a big heart for anyone needing help, your gardener in Manila whose son needed money for school tuition fee; your housekeeper who short-changed you with food money was not fired; Your driver in Maputo who was engaged in same shady deals kept his job; the two wives for your gardener in Maputo were both invited to the employees party; a childless Swedish couple in Manila adopted two Filipino children with your help; an Afghan friend working at the Development Bank of the Philippines finally got his Swedish citizenship because you vouched for him. Your Bosnian assistant-secretary in Mostar moved to the Swedish Embassy in Sarajevo after the end of EU's Administration of Mostar because of your good words. Just a few I remember, but in reality there were many more stories of friendship about people who sought your help.

There's no one in all the places you have been, that was not touched by your friendship, generosity, honesty and sincerity. No one believed you were a Swede because you had great social magnetism. You outshone everyone without being pretentious. You had a great laughter and many stories to tell. You loved best the tale of how you tricked everyone at a ministerial party in Manila by giving Prince Bertil vodka instead of coconut water in a shell. And that in one of Imelda Marcos' famous disco evenings in Malacanang Palace, she did not release you and Hollywood actor George Hamilton until 4 o'clock in the morning. Nor will I ever forget how the Brazilian ambassador complained to you about bruises he got on his chest from dancing with Imelda Marcos' diamond-studded Blue ladies.

Bo Kälfors, today is your 75th birthday. I miss you so much it aches to remember all the things we did in 25 years of travelling together. I remember when you turned 50 in Manila in 1982, when we flew to Palawan Island. You had a helicopter at your service to take us to different islands. So you walked through a row of honour guards with your rolled-up pants and returned the salute. Once inside the plane you burst into a big laughter at how ludicrous you thought you looked.

I will never forget the last words you said when I left you at the hospital in the fateful evening of May 16th, just a few hours before you left so quietly. I told you I was going home and would call you by telephone. I stood by the door and saw you wave at me. You have a smile on your face like always and you said: " I love you!" Your very last words. I knew you did for 25 years, and beyond. I know that even now, in the silence of the forest grave where you lie, the passing wind whispers your last words like a song. Rest in peace, my beloved. You are loved and remembered by many.

Losing a child to senseless violence

Stockholm is in grief. Stockholm is in protest. A growing number of its young people have been killed by peers and same generation bystander in the open streets, at parties, in commercial centers. More than 10,000 people demonstrated against youth violence last Friday, Oct. 12 at Kungsträgården (Kings Garden), in the middle of Stockholm city. The recent brutal killing of a 16-year old boy during a party at nearby Kungsholmen triggered a massive emotional outburst against violence, among the young and old.

It is hard to believe that in Sweden -where life is safeguarded with every possible measure the state could extend, not just because of the egalitarianism of the welfare state but because the value of the child has been raised to higher levels with the UN Rights of the Child interpretation at all levels of community life. The UN convention has enshrined the rights of the child to a happy home, to an education and safe community living, but somewhere, these safety measures are forgotten. Is it not ironic that violence takes place during a social or leisure activity. Who is to blame? The schools have no extended role to intervene in the students' social life after school hours. Most parents today are modern enough to allow their children's choice of friends and social activities. The use of strict disciplinary rules to curtail children's freedom belong to the past.

Losing a child has no words to describe grief. A parent's love begins with the first pulse of life inside the womb, the first breath at birth, the first cry for mother's milk. And that love grows each day of caring and loving. There is no feeling of tiredness when it comes to loving one's child. In times of sickness, there is only one prayer that pervades in the night, "Please. God, let it be me getting sick. Spare my child!" A parent's love for their children is the purest feeling there is. So what happens when one day, when someone's 16-year old son does not come home after a party and instead some policemen knocks on your door and delivers the message of death. It is a shattering experience, a devastation that explodes one's being and leaves a permanent void. Losing a child because of an accident or illness has some mitigating factors, but there is no room for any self-appeasement when a son or daughter is brutally murdered by young offenders.

(Photo has no relation to the story.)

Gloating and glowing over low unemployment

Fredrik Reinfeldt can gloat over the "glowing" low unemployment figure released to Swedish media Oct. 10th, a record-low 3.3 percent by the end of September this year, as compared to 4.2 percent last year. The non-socialist Alliance government won last year's election on its campaign for more jobs, and it appears that structural reforms in the labour market is paying off.

But the price for getting people back to work has been a bitter pill for those happily content with drawing out monthly unemployment benefits. The financial difference between working and cashing in on unemployment is insignificant, so that many choose not to work. Many find loopholes like prolonged sickness, to enjoy a blessed status quo. But this complacency has been rudely interrupted by tough measures such as cutting down on benefit levels and payment periods. Through tax inducements, employers have been seduced to hire.

The Socialist opposition is playing coy with the achievement, saying that there are those who stand farthest from the labour market. Opposition party leader Mona Sahlin promised in her alternative budget to restore, even raise the daily unemployment payment. One wonders what's in the head of this old-fashioned Socialist. Surely, compassion through prolonged welfare dependence will not sustain a national economy that lacks productivity. Was it somewhere in the Bible that says, don't give the fish, but the hook and line to fish with?

Although the one-year achievement of the non-Socialist Alliance, particularly in job creation and job tax reduction are indeed impressive, there are some nagging questions left unanswered. Are job openings mainly in the service sector like households? Are academics who borrowed money from the state agency CSN getting jobs in their chosen fields? Or are they being re-routed to sectors that have nothing to do with their training and competence. Many times, competence has the least role to play in recruitment policies because there are employers prejudiced against higher education. In fact, there are prejudices based on racial superiority that still lurks in many recruiters' corridor.

Instead of making distinctions such as newcomer immigrants and refugees vs long-timers who cannot find work, how about differentiating between the educational levels of job applicants- vocational training, college (gymnasium), university degree, post-university degree, or university of hard knocks. It would appear that Sweden ranks pretty low when it comes to a competent manpower base, so that foreign companies are not that attracted to relocate here. What was the rank? According to a Swedish media report, 22nd place out of 33. Now, this is sad!

(Sources: Dagens Nyheter, Svenska Dagbladet, 10 Oct. 2007

Photo source: DN )

Equitable budget for whom?

The Swedish opposition led by party leader Mona Sahlin and finance expert Pär Nudar announced this week an alternative budget cutting down wealth and property tax benefits introduced by the conservative Alliance government, and restoring low union fees and longer unemployment payment period. In addition, the retirees are promised a pension raise. The Socialists claim that the conservative Alliance' budget has made the rich, richer and the poor, poorer. That it has created a more inequitable distribution of wealth.

Let us dissect both budgets and see where inequities lie. Tax reduction under the conservative Alliance became visible within its first year in power and many wage earners - from high income to low income, saw the difference in their pay checks. That was swift fulfillment of an election promise. The downside was, union fees rose dramatically , in particular membership fees to the unemployment insurance. Those two alone ate up most of the 1000 Swedish crown tax relief. For those in the service sectors, the increased union and unemployment insurance membership fees became a heavy burden for already tight household budgets.

Then the Alliance - seeking to reform an over-exploited welfare state system- forced unemployed and long-term sick leave beneficiaries to go back to work, by cutting down on unemployment insurance benefits. Tax reduction incentives (jobbavdrag) means tax reduction applies only to those with jobs. That's about 30 out of 38 billion crowns for the first step tax reduction, according to an SvD report.(SvD, 6 Oct. 2007)

The Socialist opposition criticised the work tax incentive as "creating inequities in the society and affects those who stand outside the labour market". And now, the opposition parties are saying no more to a next-step 11 billion crown job tax reduction benefit. Where is the injustice here? It creates a strong motivation to work. There is always work to be found for those who will not live forever as social welfare parasites, nibbling at the taxes paid by the hard-working productive members of society. Look at the Vietnamese refugees who came to Sweden in early 1980s- who simply started their small businesses and sent their children to higher education. The same goes for other Asians like the Thais who set up restaurants and specialty shops. They did not get any government subsidies to get started.

We have to admit in all honesty that the thieves and parasites of the welfare state system have increased their tribes, in proportion to the generosity of the Socialists distribution of taxpayers' money. Although the sudden fee increases introduced by the conservative Alliance made instance chock, in the longer run, curing the Swedish society of a malignant welfare dependency sickness is more acceptable and just. The only thing that they have truly missed out, and for which the Socialist opposition has seized upon, was the proposal to raise pension. Here lies true injustice, when the larger population of retirees in Sweden - who have already paid taxes while actively working, should be taxed as high as 30 percent. But the Socialists' proposed 2000 crowns raise over a one-year period is pittance and pure cosmetic.

The other items in the Socialists' alternative budget are just refrains from an old song grown weary from repetition. If Sahlin and company want to spread egalitarianism, by all means do so via increased productivity and not through dole-outs. And definitely not at the cost of other people's sweat.#

Selling Sweden

In the Sept. 26 issue of Dagens Nyheter came an article about a film on how best to promote the Swedish trademark abroad. A film entitled "Sweden - open skies, open minds" will be premiered on Tuesday, Oct. 2. It will be a 4 minute, 33 second fast-moving documentary showing a visual and emotional experience of Sweden, the news release said. The promotional film under the sponsorship of the Swedish Institute and the Authority for the Promotion of Sweden Abroad, intends to use it in various official occasions "to strengthen Sweden as a trademark internationally".

First of all, I find the title "Sweden - open skies, open minds" very misleading. Open skies for what. Seriously, this sounds like an invitation for terrorist attack from above. For unfriendly countries with hidden agenda to wage or plot terroristic attacks by air because Swedes have an "open mind"? What happens to national soverignty that includes prohibition to fly over other national territories without prior agreement. And what has "open minds" got to do with promoting the unique nature beauty of Sweden, its archipelagic waters, frontier forests, multi-ethnic society and well-landscaped, well-maintained cities like Stockholm. Such a waste of taxpayers'money ( I would assume so, as the Swedish Institute falls under the jurisdiction of the foreign ministry.) for a project that mismatches words and visuals.

The organisers also explained that during the premier showing of the film - which basically " will show Sweden with its sunshine (?) dazzling nature (?) and beautiful people(?), wondered if other images of Sweden should also be included, such as disharmony(?). What in heavens name do they mean by "disharmony". Are they referring to the "ugly" as well? Things like hidden poverty? racial segregation in housing? immigrant ghettos in Rinkeby and Tensta? segregated labour market where immigrants are the underclass? Excuse me, but if they cannot specify what "disharmony" represents, the whole thing sounds like music with discordant notes.

Show the Royal family castles by all means, Swedish music (ABBA is forever!) and fashion ( It is Hennes&Mauritz country, for God's sake!) and museums, why not! But please don't label it "Open skies, open minds". It is dangerous and I would say, rather embarassing for people who know what "open skies, open minds" imply.

One Given Sunday

Sundays in a non-religious way mean fun and get-togethers, amongst families and friends. True to the Christian interpretation of the creation of mankind, the seventh day is meant for rest and satisfaction of one's conscience that the previous six days were well-spent in productive ways that helped improve society.

I don't have too many free Sundays and this is the problem (and supreme sacrifice) of caring for helpless and sickly people. Deep inside me, I secretly wish that I would have the same devotion to duty in my very old age. But at the rate the Swedish government is holding back on wages for the healthcare sector, chances are, there'll be more illiterates who cannot differentiate between dementia and diabetes.

But one given Sunday, I finally got hold of my teenage granddaughter - whose weekend calendar is fully booked in advance. So we headed off to her favorite childhood playground, Skansen. It is a microcosm of Swedish tradition, nature, animals and history. It is a good Sunday outing for families and an excellent hospitality gesture for visitors with limited days in Stockholm. So Ariana ( my granddaughter ) found in Skansen an international festival of which the Philippines was also a participant.

Bonding with grandchildren is a challenge these days, especially if the generation gap is wide and deep. But between me and Ariana, it cannot be that big a gap as I have caught up with the internet tech, familiarised myself with the pop culture and lingo, and I shed off my parents' authoritative grip over children. I can joke so that Ariana blushes when I said that, it would utterly impossible to make love to a gypsy without being entangled in her skirt.

Swedish children grow up to be adults, too fast and too soon. Since corporal punishment was outlawed many years ago, children now have become state properties. They can go direct to any state authority and complain about their parents or teachers. They have rights, since the UN ratified the Child Convention. Infact, too much rights, that they don't know how to exercise them in responsible manners. See all those buss stations with broken glass walls? Teenagers! Arson in schools? Gangs robbing elderly people. Youngsters who don't give a damn about giving their bus seats to old people. Drunks in the underground train. Loud and leud conversations. Just a few of the now-generation antics that would have been impossible in my own teenage days in the Philippines.

But Ariana was brought up to be a responsible person and to understand the burden of making one's own decision and taking the consequence. To be able to differentiate between right and wrong at an early age is a moral strength that elders can hand down to our children, and them to theirs. When most politicians (seeking a second term) join the global warming bandwagon and trigger-happy raise taxes on everything, we private persons can hold on to our sense of ethics and morality.

More on chili fruits

The habanero is the hottest compared to the mild Spanish pepper. It has a fruity aroma and may be used with great care with sweet fruits like mango. It is sensitive to strong heat and therefore must be added last in the dish. A relative is the yellow scotch bonnet. The piri piri is small but very strong. It is very common in Portugal and is excellent with fish and prawns' marinade. Piri piri powder is extra strong.

In Mozambique where my family lived from 1983 to 1987, grilled piri piri prawns was a popular delicacy. The jalapeno is the most useful if chili fruits as well as being the most popular around the world. It serves a number of uses, mostly sauce and chutneys. The Spanish pepper is the best known variety. The strength varies from mild to strong. It is decorative as they can be cut to look like flowers.

Did you know that mango and chili fruit is an unbeatable combination? You can make smoothie by mixing 1/2 package of diced mangoes and chopped chili, add 3 dl mild yoghurt natural, 1 dl water, 1 tsp honey and pinch of salt. Chili fruits are rich in vitamin B and carotine which strengthen the immune system and protects the body's cells. They contain substances known to be anti-oxidants.

(Ed. note) Start your read with "Autumn delights". "More on chili fruit" should be the 3rd article.

Know your chili fruits

Chili has its origin in South America. The seafarers in the 1500- century took them to Europe. Piri piri is a chili sort planted by the Portuguese in its African colonies. Piri piri means pepper. The hottest part of the chili fruit is the seeds that one can remove to decrease the taste of fire. Its good to know the different kinds of chili and how to use them for cooking.

You have the chipotele-the red, ripe jalapeno that turns brown when dried. Good for barbecue sauce and marinade. The de arbol are red dried smaller chilis than the Spanish ones. Used to add sting to vinegar and oil, as well as taste provider for sauces, stews and soups. The ancho is the big, dark red chili fruit poblano. The New Mexican is also a big chili fruit that has several names. The taste is herb-like and earthy. Its strength varies from mild to strong. Also used for stews, soups and grill marinade.

In the Philippines, we have the "siling labuyo", small but terribly strong chili that Filipino addicts fortify during storms by building walls around the chili plant. Very true in the Bicol region where I come from.

Hot chili for the cold winter

I have a work colleague from Haiti, Yvonne who makes the best chili sauce according to my London-based, chili lover son, Cholo. She buys all the different kinds of chili she can find in Skärholmen market- a suburb in Stockholm where one can buy exotic food ingredients for very reasonable prices. Yvonne has not revealed the secret of her chili sauce. She chops all these different chili fruits, boil them with vinegar, seasoning, sugar, salt, and vegetable oil. Could be some hidden ingredients I don't know.

However, I found two good recipes for making chili paste and marinated chili. For the chili paste, use the Mexican chili fruit that has a herbal and earthy taste. Use around 20g dried chili fruit and let boil for an hour. Mix with couple of spoonful raps oil or better yet, olive oil. Let cool and keep in a jar stored in the fridge. As for the marinated chili, use several kinds. Wash in running water and chop them into small pieces. Put in a pan with one deciliter apple vinegar, 1 dcl.water, one tsp. sugar and 1 tsp salt. Store in a jar with tight lock.

Use the chili paste/sauce for stews and other adventurous food mixes. I meet some people at my son Luis wedding in June, who cannot do without chili sauce. It was very handy that I bought four bottles of Yvonne's still undiscovered chili sauce marvel. One bottle went to Hongklong with Sarni and Toshi and earlier, another went to London with Cholo. And now that autumn is here, I must keep my kitchen warm and cozy with hot stews and chili. As all my friends know, the kitchen is my favorite part of the house.

Autumn delights

Autumn is my favorite Swedish season for many reasons - a spell-binding landscape of riotous red, orange and brown colours; the softness of chilly wind that touches the face; the exciting autumn and winter fashion clothes and most of all, the smell of wonderful stews from the kitchen.

We come across thousands of food recipes from every part of the world and cultures - for different seasons and moods, for casual and formal entertaining. We also have favorite favorite culinary experts whose magic in the kitchen we simply marvel at. Take the case of Jamie Oliver, very young, very rich and very herb-oriented. I borrowed a few of his recipes- like baked salmon with herb, lemon and spinach stuffings, added some other ingredients (lemon grass) and now I call mine. Yes, one can borrow other people's recipes and make them your own by discovering new ingredients that suit best your taste.

Here's a borrowed one that I served recently at a dinner for six people. I started with mango cubes and shrimps marinated in lemon, chili, salt and pepper. The next course was spring rolls with Thai sweet sour sauce. Then came this great Mexican stew- a chili con carne, done with bigger chunks of beef ( instead of ground meat); garlic, red onions, red and gold paprica, little rapsoil and fresh chili fruit; one can of cut tomatoes; meat cube for seasoning, one can of big white beans plus another can of kidney beans. You can use different kind of beans, actually. Serve this hot with french garlic bread and marinated cucumber and tomator salad. For sweets, a piece of blueberry cake with vanilla ice cream. The evening was well-remembered.

Swedish nature treasures

The month of September is a time for mushroom and wild berries in the forests of Sweden. But the weather has been erratic and unpredictable that the fabulous forest gold, the "kantarell" or chanterelle mushrooms-most sought after by pickers, already peaked in August. The combined force of heat and rain induced the growth of forest mushrooms with unprecedented speed.

When we had our summer house in Hargshamn, about two and a-half hours from Stockholm, mushroom and berries picking became an obsession. Fishing in the nearby Baltic waters was also an addiction. Swedish summers' long days allowed for many adventures into the forests and waters. Hargshamn, where we had our summer house, borders on the Baltic sea and the waters have an abundant supply of fishes, especially herring.

Kantarell grows in mossy forests, usually in the same areas every year. Many pickers have secret "ställe" or places they will reveal to no one, and every year they revisit the same kantarell places. In the month of October comes another most-sought -after mushroom, the "trattkantarell". They are either brownish or orangish in color and they grow thick in particular areas. There are also black ones but rather rare. One can walk the forest for hours without discovering any, but once you spot one, then you have discovered the whole regiment.

They are secret places held close to the heart of pickers. Such secrets remain closely kept until death and are passed on to the heirs of the estate. It goes like this: " Äskling" (darling) here are the secret chanterelle places, but don't by all means include them in my asset inventory, otherwise the tax authority will come and tax you." Sweden is an overtaxed country such that simple joys we get from nature's treasures, including clean air, we must keep to ourselves only, least the tax eager politicians get the wrong ideas.

Other worthy mushroom competitors are the "Karl Johan" and wild champignons. Hundreds of wild mushrooms populate the Swedish forests although more than half are unedible if not deadly poisonous. Some newspapers accounts told of foreigners taken ill for eating poisonous mushrooms. The worst kind is the "flugsvamp" which comes in spotted white or red. So beautiful yet so deadly evil.

What did I do with baskets of mushroom harvests I take back to Stockholm? The kantarells, including the tratt can be dried. Use some newspaper under that absorbs the moisture. Or, permitting space in the fridge, fry them in their own moisture with some salt. No butter and pepper, as they could change the taste of the mushroom when you saute' them as side dish for your roasts. Pack them according to consumption portions. If you want to eat them fresh, then fry them with little butter, salt and pepper and put them on toast bread. A real delicacy, I promise. But before consumption, clean them with a soft brush because they have some bits of soil and dead leaves from being in the forest.

As for the treasures of the water, fishing herrings called "strömming" is a real summer sport. Its the only time one is allowed seven hooks to a line. The "strömming" which comes and goes in schools are caught not necessarily through the mouth but other parts of the body the hooks happen to hit. In June I used to go out around nine in the morning with my fishing gear and a pail. Since the days were really long, I'd stay fishing until ten, eleven in the evenings or until my husband came looking for me.

Cleaning "strömming" is not my favorite part of the sport. Too many scales, too slimy, and just too many in the pail. That part I normally left to my patient hubby. And the fishing goes on until there's no more space in the freezer. When that happened, I took the whole lot back to Stockholm, including the other catch that our neighbour supplied us. Back in Stockholm, I knocked on my friends' doors and asked: " Hi, want some "gädda"?

And so I spread the joys of picking and catching to non-pickers and non-catchers.

Experiencing Africa

Being in Africa begun in July 1983, long before Angelina Jolie adopted her Etiopian child and later gave birth to her own in Namibia; or Madonna who followed suit and got her highly-publicised Malawi son. It was also years before America's super media mogul Oprah Winter focused her benevolence and wealth on South Africa, to build a leadership school for girls. Nelson Mandela - whom I admire to be the true father of democracy in the world, was still in prison in Robin Island, and apartheid's reign of terror held the heart of Southern Africa.

We, my family - consisting of two teenage boys and my Swedish diplomat-husband - arrived in Nairobi, Kenya for a week's holiday prior to settling down in Maputo, Mozambique - the new diplomatic assignment. Our first encounter with Africa's wildlife begun in Ambosele Park, - around six hours drive from Nairobi - passing through a vastness of open fields without vegetation except for huge umbrella-shaped trees that punctuated a mirage of sea. On the top branches were hanging bird nests shaped like pouches. There were famous Marabo birds - huge like horses that could run with similar speed, if pursued. One huge egg is equivalent to twelve chicken eggs if scrambled. In Nairobi's park, we saw a snake pit with the world's most dangerous species like the mamba. It was an exciting introduction into the Africa we would embrace for the next five years.

Mozambique's capital is Maputo - known during the Portuguese era, as Lorenzo Marques. After some 400 years of Portuguese colonisation, Mozambique finally got its independence. When we arrived, the Marxist Frelimo liberation army had taken the reigns of government. It had huge problems, an economy in ruins, agriculture was minimal and limited, food was in shortage as everything else, and the government lacked the infrastructure to govern. In short, the Frelimo was learning the big difference between struggling as a liberation army and struggling as a legitimate government. Samora Machel, the charismatic Frelimo leader was the president. His wife was Graca Machel, education minister who later married Nelson Mandela.

The Mocambicans are a gentle people. Very few have education and employment was scarce such that, the diplomatic homes were staffed mostly by men, not women. The majority of the menfolk were contract workers in South African mines, leaving their homes and families to the women. Womenfolk carrying babies on their backs, trekked tens of kilometers to their farms. Mozambique was to become later the third largest Swedish develoment aid recipient, a large part of which went into subsidising its budgetary deficit.

Aside from its charms as a country of many tourism potentials, it lies just beside the Indian ocean, its source of fish and seafoods. But whatever harvests it gets like tiger shrimps, only go to its main ally, then USSR to barter with oil. Even other exportable goods like semi-precious stones go to its Eastern European friends. As a Marxist state, its diplomatic relation was strong with the former communist states, whose representatives in Maputo often liked to show who was " more equal than the others".

Before the Swedish government built its new grandious embassy in Maputo, the old embassy - where my husband held office as ambassador, was housed on the second floor of a fish-smelling apartment. The embassies and residences of big powers like the US, USSR and Great Britain were grander by comparison. Sweden was a butt of diplomatic jokes because it did not know how use its development aid muscle to get a better building. It felt even at this time, that no matter how much aid came to Mozambique, it would continue like Tanzania to be an international aid mendicant.

We went to neighboring Swaziland quite often because my husband was also accredited to the "Queen Elephant Mother" - as the tribal head of state who was mother of the Crown Prince was known. The old king of Swaziland had around 120 wives by the time he died. His heir, the English- educated Crown Prince was crowned king in an extravagant ceremony attended by diplomatic representatives of most countries. First came the tribal coronation, then the Westernised one, complete with open field shows and games. The streets of Swaziland glimmered in black Mercedes Benzes, all flown in to service the foreign guests. The extravaganza could have answered a year's budget without foreign borrowings. Many years after we left, this young king had surpassed his father's number of wives.

Experiencing Africa then, was seeing not only the extreme ends of poverty and disease but encountering victims of the on-going civil war between the Frelimo and its armed opposition, known locally as the "bandidos". Fightings raged in many parts of the country which made travelling by road extremely dangerous. What used to be a leisurely 3-hour drive to Swaziland for our monthly food shopping became impossible because the "bandidos" shot at cars and burned them. Pictures of buses burned with its passengers still inside and others hacked by machete came out in the "Noticias", the only local paper. One afternoon, Maputo was rocked by explosions from bombs that exploded nearby. All embassies went into crisis meetings to carry out a mass evacuation plan. But it was contained and evacuation did not take place. But bombings in small scale took place in many houses believed to be harbouring anti-apartheid guerillas, the African National Congress or ANC. The Pretoria regime had a fantastic intelligence system that was able to locate precisely ANC safehouses.

In the later years in Mozambique, we experienced not only constant fear from the on-going fightings but worst of all, the tragedy of a presidential plane crash carrying Samora Machel, some of his advisers and ministers and the ambassadors of Zambia and Congo. The presidential plane was Russian-made, the pilot was Russian-trained and on its way from a peace summit, it ran into a night storm, lost its direction and crashed. Maputo mourned its beloved leader, and funeral parades were also held for the ambassadors who lost lives. The death of Samora Machel was investigated, and to this date, no one believes a hundred percent that it was not the working of his enemy, apartheid South Africa.

This was my piece of Africa that lives on. We have visited other countries in Southern Africa especially South Africa, Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Lesotho, Swaziland and Malawi. There are many differences between these nations not only in languages they spoke, but to a great extent, they mirror the influences of the colonising powers that shaped their nationhoods. Today, the Marxist states have succumbed to the lures of the market economy, opened their boundaries to tourism and foreign investments. But, their economies have not taken off. And if one looks at Zimbabwe today, it is in worst condition as when it was a newly-liberated state. In Mozambique, Foreign Minister Chissano became the new president. He remains so up to today, 20 years later. To the gentle Mocambicans I say: " A luta continua!"

Life in Review 2: My own love story

Time magazine's issue of August 20th this year, features an interesting article on the vanishing Hollywood love stories. How did it happen that moviegoers lost interest in love stories such as the famous "Casablanca", "Gone with the Wind", "Titanic" and other classic love films. These days, it is more about violence, wars, science fictions and comedies, and even magic. Unpopular films mean low revenue because ticket sales stink.

What has happened to the old fashion "boy meets girl, love at first sight hits like thunderbolt, courtship begins and many years later comes a wedding". No, apparently this has gone out of style. These days, girl seeks boy in some night spots, have a drink or two, goes to " mine or your place" and have sex. Just a one night stand, just sex, nothing more, they would rationalise the following day. Oh yeah! twas just part of a drunken night.

I think we should each have a love story to remember, no matter how old fashioned. A love story that truly warms the heart on winter days, one that survives either parties beyond the grave. Because when nothing remains but memories captured in pictures and video films, it is one's true love story that lives on. It is the afterlife beneath a tombstone.

My greatest love story goes like this. I was a foreign correspondent in Manila invited one evening to a presidential cruise to honour the visiting Iraqi vice-president. Majority of the guests were chiefs of foreign diplomatic missions and government ministers. I was sitted with the Philippine ministers of agriculture and cultural minorities, a Geneva-based Jamaican ambassador, the Danish charge' d affaire and the Swedish ambassador. It was a lively conversation in our table. The Jamaican ambassador was flirting openly and the agriculture minister encouraged it. Even the Danish charge´de affaires followed suit. Only the Swedish ambassador remained quiet.

It was great to be the only female in a table of men energised by scotch. No one paid any attention to what the Iraqi vice-president and the Philippine prime minister were telling the guests. Was it the promise of oil? Who cares. Then the Jamaican ambassador passed on his calling card. When the boat returned to Manila bay, we said our customary "Good-byes" and "Do you have a ride home?" kind of gesture. " Yes, I have, thank you!"
Then I discovered underneath my plate the Swedish ambassador's calling card. It read: " Tomorrow he, the Jamaican will be gone, but I will still be around." This was January 13th, 1982.

All was forgotten. I went to Southern Philippines for a 2-week long coverage of a paramilitary group terrorising the local inhabitants. Remember, this was Marcos authoritarian rule and the military lorded over the countrysides.
Upon my return to Manila, my secretary handed me several call slips, all from the Swedish embassy. I played coy and ignored it. The calls went on and sometime in March, I agreed to a dinner date with the persistent Swedish ambassador. He was Bo Kälfors, ruggedly good-looking, very sun-tanned ( from golfing ) deeply penetrating eyes and long gigolo-like hair.

The dinner was very romantic, the conversation was sexy and the questions were frank and honest. No. it was not red wine influenced. He asked, if I would like to be his "sambo" (live-in) in his next diplomatic assignment. He was nearing his end of tour in Manila. I didn't answer. Thought it was the wine talking. Then came the lunch date, and more dates. I allowed the courtship to flow its natural course, like a river. We became engaged in May ( my birthday) and had a big party with media friends and politicians. It was mesmerising how fluid the events took us. I made no attempts to hinder it. Around May, he was asking his cousin in Sweden to start looking for a romantic little church where we would marry.

The wedding took a detour. I was previously married but separated. My former husband, also a journalist, joined the underground movement against Marcos- was eventually captured, sat in jail for seven or so years, freed and ala-Mandela went into politics. Anyway, it was only in Dominican republic where I could get a divorce because the Swedish authorities said I had no residence and had not lived with the Swede about to marry me.
So, it took a long way to Drottningholm's chapel ( official residence of the Swedish royalty) as we crossed the Pacific ocean to get to the Caribbean's Dominican republic.

The end of this love story was, we married in the mid-summer day of June 26th, 1982 amidst family and diplomatic friends. This love story has kept us together for 25 years - through wars and conflicts ( in his places of assignment from Africa to Bosnia) , the ups and downs of life in Sweden. Until one day, his weak heart gave in and on May 16th this year, he passed into eternity. I don't feel any emptiness because we have a love story that lives forever.

Lifestyle: The Swedish crayfish tradition

The month of August ushers in an important Swedish tradition, the crayfish celebration. A long time ago - I was told at a recent crayfish premier party - only the wealthy landowning Swedes who owned properties that included lakes had access to this delicacy. The harvest took place in August, the cooking is very Swedish, of which the most important ingredient is the dill crown. That's where the unique taste and smell comes from.

Then came some pest that corrupted the fresh water habitat of the crayfish, and the Swedish tradition was threatened with extinction. Luckily, some enterprising Swedes found other sources abroad in countries like Turkey, the USA, Spain and China. Crayfish prepared the Swedish way was imported in big quantities from these countries and the Swedish tradition found a new lease of life.

In recent years, crayfish came back to its fresh water habitat and avid Swedes began fishing the homegrown delicacy again. The Signalkräftor sell between SEK450 to 600 per kilo. One true-hearted crayfish enthusiast I know is Lars Hedfors, who without fail treats his friends to his annual harvest of crayfish. Lars is married to a Filipina, Mary and both have been delightful hosts to our yearly crayfish celebration. For Lars, a crayfish party consists of a first course - " to line up the stomach" for the heavy vodka and snaps drinks, the crayfish in big platters, the side dishes of toast bread, or hard bread, buttered and lined with ripe brännvin. Unlike in Louisiana where a pile of crayfish (called crawfish) can be served right on the table without plates, the Swedish way is more colourful because of accesories like napkins, lanterns, placemats and hats all of which have decorative crayfish motiff. The occasion becomes a celebration.

To start the race for as many crayfish one can consume, the first tail requires a short speech, a vodka toast "Skål!" and in it goes, marinated in alcohol, straight into the digestive system. The party is ever punctuated by "Skål!", a song and another tail. True crayfish eating requires genuine slurping and sucking of the crayfish head, for its butter and eggs. That's truly the best part of the animal. And the sucking has to be hard as through taking the very last breath out of one's beloved.

Lars Hedfors believes that crayfish eating is almost a religious devotion, in the way one savours every bit of the animal. And when his guests show this kind of devotion, as did my husband Bo, he says he feels rewarded for all his hardwork from catching to cooking. " It makes everything all worth it", he says.

Life in review

The measurement of life is not how long or short one has lived. Is it a straight highway without stops in a landscape of plains without hills, valleys and mountains. Or, is it turns and bends without sure destination
in sight. Is it a planned long journey where every stop is expected and outcomes determined or just a long
journey without thoughts of any light at the end of the tunnel.

When one deciphers what life is for oneself as well as for others in a never-ending interaction of many individual histories, and how such interactions have resulted in millions of episodes, of which some may have created great impacts upon many peoples, do we think that we have lived a meaningful life.

But life is not always how we want it to be, no matter how well we plan if only to avoid pitfalls like pain, sickness, loneliness and worst, poverty. The "here and now" of life could be all roses without any thorns in sight but somewhere is an inheritance of loss, if I may be allowed to borrow Kiran Desai's book title where previous generations continue to impact the present. We could find ourselves hostage to a past without any redemption in sight.

One is reminded of the ancient rivalries and hatred between the "nations" of former Yugoslavia, of a conflict that runs so deep in the psyche of every inhabitant in this region. There is no way to measure how far back the conflict had begun, only that its full eruption was not too long ago and mass graves are still being discovered.
How many lives were lost, how many souls scarred forever.