In My Brothers Kingdom
My eighteen-year-old brother, Moon, lives in a small town called Nivå, together with my mother and our three younger sisters. Since I have red hair and unbelievably pale skin and my brother is quite brown, obviously we have the same father. Moons father i Jamaican, but now lives in London, and we haven’t seen him in ten years. Unlike me, Moon don’t remember living anywhere but Nivå. This town is his home and his keep. Recently he dropped out of school, and while I was making this essay he had not yet figured out what to do instead.
The town of Nivå is a typical smallish town, half an hours drive north of Copenhagen, with approximately 8000 inhabitants, most of whom work in Copenhagen. There is a large community of non-western immigrants and refugees, who mainly live in two areas of social housing projects. Nivåhøj and Islandshøjparken. Though Nivå is generally a peaceful town, integration hasn’t been very good and many of the young immigrant boys are bored and restless, and there are not many pastime opportunities in the area.
In the summer of 2007 riots broke out. Fires where lit in the streets, rocks and other suitable objects where thrown at the police, whose cars where also set ablaze. Some where arrested, others got away. Since then there have been several minor incidents. But nothing significant has changed in Nivå.
In this essay I try to show a glimpse of the every day life of my brother and his friends, as they hang out, cruise around, crack joke, contemplate life and do what it is they do. This is my brother, and these are his closest friends. This is Nivå. This is my brothers kingdom.