Some years ago I was in Eritrea, on my second visit to this country where I have friends which I now, after belonging to a friendship link between Trondheim/Norway and Keren/Eritrea, count as family.
During this visit we spent a couple of days down in Massawa, near the Red Sea, and one night when we visited a fish restaurant, one of the men in the group told us about the history from the area. It was a very special atmosphere. Dark, a spicy smell, excotic for a Nordic girl. If I had been in Norway I would have called the atmosphere "trollsk" (like trolls in a Norwegian fairy tale), but here I was in this far away place with close links over to the East. The atmosphere was "Scheherazadish", I was taken right into a "1001 Night" story. I sat there like a small, though endless loved member of God's huge family. A family where I belong together with my dear ones on Norway and together with my friends in Eritrea, just like I belong there together with you.
Scheherazade told stories during 1001 nights, then King Sharyar realized he couldn't live without her and married her. Eritrea has told me stories for more that 1001 night. I have realized that I can't live without Eritrea and the Eritrean people, and I keep the country and its people close to my heart. I have friends there. I have family there.
