Reportterin mentyä
haastattelen pihassa kuminaa:
“Miten päätite olla mauste?”
When the reporter’s gone,
I interview the caraway in the yard.
“How did you decide to be a spice?”
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), p. 23. Translated by Living in FIN. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Stop Deportations
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March 12, 2018
Shady Forced Repatriation Practices at Baghdad Airport
Stop Deportations was in contact today with a Baghdad Airport policeman via the Danish journalist Kods Almsaray. The policeman did not want his name published. We asked under what terms and agreements they accepted Iraqi asylum seekers forcibly repatriated to Iraq by the Finnish police when the Iraqi immigration minister had said Iraq did not accept any forcibly repatriated Iraqis. The source at Baghdad Airport said they accepted only asylum seekers convicted of crimes, such as terrorism, for example. The criminal background check was done in such a way that the airport police got the forcibly repatriated asylum seeker’s legal documents from the Finnish policemen escorting him, Mohammed said.
When we said the forced returnees were largely ordinary asylum seekers who had not done anything illegal while they were in Finland and most were still in the middle of asylum application process, the line went dead.
Several forcibly repatriated asylum seekers have confirmed the Finnish police gave their asylum application papers at the airport to the Iraqi police, who made photocopies of them. Then the Iraqi police questioned why the applicants went to Finland and checked whether they were on the Iraqi Interior Ministry’s list. All of this put the forced returnees in grave danger, as the asylum application papers contained confidential information about how the applicants were persecuted and who persecuted them.
One can also end up on the Interior Ministry’s list for quite arbitrary reasons and those who are on the list can be victimized indefinitely.
The lack of a passport is no longer an obstacle to forced repatriation when the Finnish police can write up a disposable “European travel document for third-country nationals illegally residing in the country,” although asylum seekers whose application review process is still underway are not residing illegally in Finland.
Forced returnees who even had steady jobs when they left Finland have shown us pictures of their European travel documents. According to the documents, they had been residing in Finland illegally.
Last week, Stop Deportations asked Finnish Interior Minister Kai Mykkänen on the basis of what treaties and documents Finland has been engaged in forced repatriations to Iraq, when neither official Iraq nor Finland has admitted to the repatriations. The minister managed to avoid answering the question. An employee with state-owned Iraqi Airways estimated today, in conversation with Stop Deportations, that Finland is currently the most active forced repatriator in the EU. But where is the agreement on forced repatriations? Where are the transparent practices?
Translated by Living in FIN. Thanks to Comrade AR for the heads-up. Photo courtesy of Stop Deportations
Ei jätä luontokaan valinnanvaraa.
Kun on nähnyt lammen sylissä pilven
ja lumpeitten keskellä kuun
on lopullisesti sielunsa armoilla.
Nature leaves no choice.
After seeing the pond in the cloud’s embrace,
and the moon amidst the water lilies,
you are finally at your soul’s mercy.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), p. 17. Photo and translation by Thomas H. Campbell
Source: Meillä Kotona (Maku)
Text: Anni Pitkänen
Photos: Kreetta Järvenpää
Cooking Directions
Total prep time: 6 hours and 45 minutes (active prep time: 45 minutes)
Soak the gelatin sheets in cold water for at least 5 minutes. Whip the cream.
Chop the chocolate into bits and peel the Mignon eggs. Melt them carefully in a microwave a few seconds at a time. Mix the chocolate bits while melting them. Mix the chocolate mixture with the whipped cream.
Whisk the cream cheese in a large mixing bowl with an electric mixer until smooth. Add the chocolate-whipped cream mixture to the whisked cream cheese.
Heat the water in a saucepan. Remove the pan from the stove and add the cocoa powder. Squeeze the excess water from the gelatin sheets and add them to the saucepan with the water-cocoa mixture. Pour the gelatin mixture into the filling in thin ribbons. Whisk the mixture quickly, just until the ingredients are are blended.
Pour the filling into a 1.5-liter round-bottomed bowl lined with cling wrap. Level off the surface. Put the filling in the refrigerator.
Crush the biscuits and measure the powdered hazelnuts and almonds into the mixture. Brown butter in a saucepan. Heat the butter until it takes on a scorched brown color. Pour the browned butter into the mixture of crushed biscuits and powdered nut. Mix until smooth.
Once the mixture has cooled, use a spoon to pat it on top of the filling to form a bottom crust. Let the cake cool in the fridge for at least 6 hours, preferrably overnight.
Melt the white chocolate in the microwave a few seconds at a time. Mix the chocolate while melting it.
Spread the white chocolate on a piece of baking paper. Let it solidify in the refrigerator. Using a knife, cut the chocolate into differently shaped pieces and set them randomly around the edge of the cake.
Press the white chocolate pieces against the cake. When the cake is cut, each person gets a piece of the “eggshell.”
Translated by Thomas H. Campbell
Niistä joita jumalat vihaavat enemmän kuin opettajia
he tekevät sääennustajia.
Joka kerta kun tuuli kääntyy
he tuntevat sen luissaan.
Aina kun sade on tulossa
he ovat kuolemankielissä.
Kylmän korpit nokkivat heidän lapojaan,
kourivat niskaa,
istuvat polvien päällä,
repivät varpaita,
herkuttelevat jänteillä ja sidekudoksilla.
Kipujen siirat vilistävät lanteista pohkeisiin,
purevat sieltä, näykkäävät täältä,
turpoavat ja lisääntyvät
matalapaineen edellä.
Lepäävät harvoin, auringossa.
Ja kaiken tämän kukkuroidakseen
jumalat tekivät heistä pitkäikäisiä.
Those the gods hate more than schoolteachers
they make weather forecasters.
Every time the wind turns
they feel it in their bones.
Whenever precipitation is on the way,
they are on the verge of death.
Cold’s ravens peck at their shoulders,
pummel the napes of their necks,
perch on their knees,
gnash at their toes,
feast on sinews and connective tissues.
Pain’s woodlice scuttle from haunches to calves,
biting them and snapping at them here and there,
swelling and multiplying
in advance of the low pressure area.
They seldom relax, and then in the sun.
And, to top it all off,
the gods made them long-lived.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), p. 57. Translated by Living in FIN. Photo by NASA’s Aqua MODIS satellite. Courtesy of Wikipedia
Kuu paistaa heleästi
kuollut ajaa keveästi,
elävää naitattaa.
Parempi on naida kuin palaa.
Parasti on naida salaa.
Sais yöllä syyä,
päivällä naia
ja aamulla nukkua.
The moon beams brightly,
pursuing the dead lightly,
making the living horny.
It’s better to fuck than fry.
It’s best to fuck on the sly.
You should nosh at night,
shag in the afternoon,
and snooze in the morning.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), p 41. Translation and photo by Living in FIN
Valtra tractor with lumber trailer in Jyväskylä, Finland, May 5, 2011. Photo by Antti Leppänen
Viime kesänä jolloin en kirjoittanut
Jumala lähetti minulle miehiä.
Tänä vuonna kirjoitan metsässä myöhään syksyyn
ja eikös Hän toimita minulle polttopuita:
rojauttaa yhtiön metsätraktorista
kasan pölkkyjä vanhan saunani viereen.
Hän antaa hartioihini voiman raahata
ne liiteriin.
Kuka tietää, vaikka Hän itse ilmestyisi
ne jonakin päivänä sahamaan.
Tarpeeni kaikki tietää.
Pirukin kiertää paikkaa,
kauppaa tontteja, viittilöi mökkiäni,
loitsii turhaan rajoja.
Ei pysty paha noita-akkaan
jok’ on liitossa Jumalan kanssa,
kainalossa Kaikkivallan.
Linnut lähtevät,
ruoho kuolee,
minä jään.
Luoja lempii salaa.
Last summer, when I wasn’t writing,
God sent me men.
This year I’m writing in the woods until late autumn,
and perhaps He shall fetch me firewood,
dragging a pile of logs
from the association’s lumber tractor over to my old sauna.
He shall give my shoulders the strength to schlep
them into the shed.
Who knows? Maybe He Himself would appear
one day to saw them.
He knows all my needs.
The Devil sidesteps the place.
Selling lots, he waves towards my cottage,
hexing the borders to no avail.
Evil can do no harm to the witch lady
what is in league with God,
in the Almighty’s armpit.
The birds leave,
the grass dies,
I am staying.
The Creator makes love on the sly.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), pp. 37–38. Translation by Thomas Campbell. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Ohdake, syksyn viimeinen kukkija.
Hillitty, vaalea sinipuna.
Vankka varsi, ei kaadu sateessa,
ei taitu tuulessa.
Piikkinen: selektiivisyyttä.
Latvassa nokkosperhonen.
Iso, uusi, vastakuoriutunut,
tuorein värein,
elämänsä viimeisessä vaiheessa:
perhosena, parhaimmillaan.
Ja tämä kaikki kerrottuna paljolla:
sankka, utuinen vyöhyke
lujuutta ja lepatusta — ennen kuolemaansa
kesä synnytti tällaisen ilmiön
hvyästelläkseen luomakuntaa.
Pikkulepinkäiset, myöhäänmuuttajat,
nököttävät katon reunalla
ja popsivat perhosia
joita ohdakemaa ruokkii.
Raskasta seurata sivusta
tätä luonnon tasapainoa ja harmoniaa.
Mutta mikä olisi oikea vaakakuppi?
Ryhtyä linnunpelätiksi.
Kitkeä ohdakkeet.
Perustaa kaalimaa?
Syksypä tietää:
lepinkäiset lähtevät,
perhosten aika jatkuu,
ohdake tuoksuu,
sulous rellestää.
On kaunista kuolla.
The thistle, autumn’s last bloomer.
A subdued pale violet.
A sturdy stem that neither falls in the rain
Nor breaks in the wind.
Prickly, selective.
A small tortoiseshell butterfly on the crown.
Big, new, freshly hatched,
its colors fresh,
in its life’s final phase:
a butterfly in its prime.
All of this multiplied many times:
a dense, nebulous zone
of fortitude and flutter before death.
Summer gave birth to this phenomenon
in order to take leave of creation.
Red-backed shrikes, late migrators,
sit still on the roof’s edge,
munching the butterflies
the thistle patch nourishes.
It’s painful to watch from the wings
as nature balances and harmonizes thus.
But what would strike the right balance?
Becoming a scarecrow?
Weeding the thistles?
Planting a cabbage patch?
Autumn knows, though.
The shrikes depart.
The time of the butterflies goes on.
The thistle is fragrant.
Grace revels.
Dying is beautiful.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), pp. 33–34. Translated by Living in FIN. Photo of a small tortoiseshell butterfly by Jörg Hempel. Courtesy of Wikipedia. The translation is dedicated to my mother on her birthday.
Yöllä minulle äkkiä valkeni:
se mies joka auttoi autoni käyntiin,
se oli sorsastaja.
Jokin sanoi minulle sen.
Metsässä tietää.
Nyt ymmärrän hänen pelästyneen katseensa
kun menin puhuttelemaan häntä.
Säikähti omaatuntoaan.
Ja minä: kehuin ja kiitin.
It suddenly dawned on me in the night.
The man who had helped get my car going
was a duck hunter.
Something had told me that.
One knows in the forest.
I now understood his frightened gaze
when I went to talk to him.
It had startled his conscience.
And me, I had praised and thanked him.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), p. 30. Photo and translation by Living in FIN
Rautalehti varpaitten välissä
parantaa jalkasienen,
jalkapohjasta se poistaa känsän,
nokkosenpolttamaan se erittää vasta-ainetta.
Sitä voi syödä.
Kuinka meillä on varaa
unohtaa tällainen tieto,
josta kaiken lisäksi
ainakin puolet on totta.
Common plantain cures
athlete’s foot between the toes,
removes calluses from soles,
secretes an antidote to nettle burns.
It is edible.
How can we afford
to forget such knowledge?
Everything else aside,
at least half of it is true.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), p. 25. Translated by Thomas Campbell. Photo courtesy of Frantsila.com
Living in FIN 