Childhood on the road

"I was born in 1947 in Hundtorp. We travelled in the villages of Gudbrandsdalen, Torp, Valdres and Telemark. We had regular places to stay overnight. Sometimes we risked not finding shelter for the night. Then we would find a barn, where we crawled deep into the hay so we wouldn't freeze. Finding a place to stay in the winter was a struggle. We moved our things up steep hillsides and were therefore reasonably well trained. In most places we only stayed one night, but sometimes we stayed for several weeks in the same place. My mother would clean floors and help with the cooking. My parents lived a traditional Tater life.   

I was the youngest of four children. I got the nickname ‘the Jew’ from the midwife who delivered me. She said I looked like a Jew because I was so dark.

In the early years, my father had neither a horse nor a car, but he was one of the first ones to get a car. The children ran ahead to ‘hold the door’ so that people wouldn’t lock us out. We sang for money. In the summer we lived in tents. There were no caravans then. As children, we were on our own a lot. We were always happy when others came to visit. Visitors were often close family - my parents' siblings. The men always drank when they met. The women cooked, and the men drank.

When someone ran out of food or drink, others shared what they had. Everything was shared. We ate watery porridge when times were tough. I can't remember starving or freezing. We traded pork, eggs and milk on the farms and bought tobacco and beer at the store. The food was made on a primus.

We travelled all year. The women took care of everyday life. While the men travelled to trade now and then, it was the women who did the day-to-day trading. My parents bought magazines, needles, damask tablecloths and watches in a store in Oslo. My mother then sold the magazines, tablecloths and needles, while my father sold the watches and made gutters. We spoke some Romani, but I could never have a proper conversation in Romani. We used it mostly as a secret language.

Belonging to an extended family was good. I was often surrounded by cousins. Only one of the cousins was younger than me. She was fair-haired and I thought she was so beautiful. We had a special tie and are very fond of each other to this day. I can never remember my parents beating us. I remember how good it felt to crawl into my grandma's lap when I was tired of everybody else."  

Taken by the Mission

"In 1956, the Norwegian Mission for the Homeless came and took us into their custody. I was nine years old. The Childcare Department had nothing negative to point to. When this happened, we were renting a house from someone we knew in Flå in Hallingdal. The Childcare Department had held meetings in advance. When they picked us up, there were two representatives from the Norwegian Mission present: Ester Ødegård and Oscar Frogner, as well as the police and the Childcare Department.

The Mission’s goal was to eradicate the Tater people. They said the Tater should become integrated into Norwegian society, while what we experienced was total isolation. This is the darkest chapter in Norwegian social history. As I said, I was nine years old; my siblings were 11, 14 and 16. We were all taken and brought to Oslo, where we were separated. We were not given any explanation. It says in the Child Welfare Act that one should try to keep siblings together, but this was not the case for us. I didn't see my siblings again until I was an adult.

I was transferred to the Eilert Sundt orphanage at Eidsvoll. It was not a nice place to be. The conditions were very similar to what we had heard it was like at the orphanage in Bergen. There was always hell to pay after parents had been on a visit. Eventually I discouraged my parents from coming. I was raised to think my parents were worthless.

Three sisters were running the place – a genuine family dynasty (the Rognstad sisters).

When I arrived at the orphanage, I started in first grade. I got six years of primary school education there. We went to the local school, and I had the kindest teacher in the world. Our relationship with the locals was good, but we were always kept at arm's length. I played in the boys' marching band, which gave me a lot of advantages. I was good at sports, too.

I hadn't attended school at all until I got to the orphanage. My parents didn't want us to go to school because they were afraid the Mission would take us. Over time, it also became more difficult to find a place to stay. Public officials were always the difficult ones. There was a campaign against the Tater people. I remember once we were in Gvarv in Telemark. We were staying in the house of a man whose nickname was Polka-Kalle. A man came and asked who we were, how old we were and what our names were. When we told my mother and father about this later in the day, we all left immediately.

The law states that no one should be worse off when the child welfare authorities have taken custody of the children. As for us, we went from bad to worse. The child welfare authorities did not maintain its visitation and supervisory duties. The supervisor was supposed to visit at least six times a year. This did not happen until much later. An alarm was sounded then. The conditions were miserable, and they said that, if nothing was done, they would resign from their supervisory responsibilities. The staff at the orphanage had a negative attitude toward those of us who lived there. They viewed us as a pariah group.

When they lost us, my parents split up. My mother started drinking when we were taken from her and eventually became a heavy alcoholic. My mother married a Tater, my father a ‘resident’."

Youth – with a one-way ticket to Denmark!

"I finished secondary school, then vocational school. Then I was sent to Denmark with the ship Holger Danske on a one-way ticket. I was there for almost a year. It was hard to get a job at the time. I started working at a bicycle factory at Silkeborg. Lived there with a family who used to live at Eidsvoll. I was 16. I had to stand on my own two feet and got no more help. It was a pretty hopeless starting point. I saved myself by going out to sea and stayed there until I was 23 years old.

After I was out of the orphanage, I went to the Mission’s office in Holbergsgate to find my siblings. They gave me my brother’s address. He was married and had a daughter. Through him, I found my father. Describing the situation feels strange. He’s your brother, yet a stranger! I lived in Oslo for a long time, and we became closer. Eventually, I enjoyed a good relationship both with my brother and my father. My sisters felt more distant.

The relationship between us siblings was never the same again. Something was missing and we could not feel the same sibling love as back then. I have missed the affinity all these years. The decision by the authorities to take us from our parents resulted in nothing but pain."

Marriage and family

"After I finished at sea, I went to Vågå. I met my wife and we've been together now for over 33 years. We have three healthy, good children. After I found my father and siblings, I also contacted my mother. My mother stopped drinking when I had children. I said I would not visit her if she kept drinking. She quit right away and hasn't touched alcohol since. We moved to Braskereidfoss and built a house there. We lived in several places until we bought the house in Elverum where we live now.

I tried to get a job, went trading and saved up for a car. Then I started trading antiques, got a steady customer base and have had regular customers all these years.

My wife is the one who loves to move around, while I like to take it easy. Our dream is a cabin by a small lake.  We have a caravan, of course. We use it a lot and travel around all summer.

My boys don't like to move around. They love music. One of them spends a lot of time with me, while the other is a musician. One is a real daddy’s boy, while the other is a mummy’s boy.

From the day we were born, we got used to travelling. This kind of life makes its mark on you, but I don't think it's in your blood, as many believe. It depends on what you're used to.

When you intervene in a life and totally change it, you destroy people. The Mission really had no formal power but was handed power by the Norwegian authorities. If The Childcare Department had done its job, history would have been different. We did not struggle with the attitudes of the people in the villages; they were not usually hostile. Public officials made life difficult.

My boys weren't encouraged by their mother to get an education. She thought they could get by fine without it. My daughter worked at restaurants and was very good at that. She could have acquired a certificate of apprenticeship but is now a full-time mother. One of my boys was very good at school and could have continued, but he wasn't motivated.

There is still a difference between Tater and residents. We live off trade and we particularly engage in selling antiques.  It is rare for anyone to get vocational training. The government should focus on educating the people. Whoever doesn't have a vocational qualification is tomorrow's loser.

Elverum is a good place for us Tater. Growing up, my boys participated in sports and music. It's a good place for everyone today, but 12-13 years ago the Police Commissioner warned people not to welcome vagrants. We are not subject to racism now. Today, Elverum has room in its heart for all! But our immigrants probably face bigger problems."