{"product_id":"sameining-1","title":"Sameining","description":"\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eStærð: - H:34cm x B:18cm\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eÞessi vera heitir Sameiningin.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHún minnir mig á að undir öllum nöfnum, tungumálum, húðlitum, trúarbrögðum, þjóðsöngum og fjölskyldusögum erum við öll með beinagrind sem lítur svo gott sem eins út.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eSameiningin varð til úr öllum beinunum sem höfðu einhvern tíma dansað og sungið. Beinum sem höfðu, hlaupið berfætt yfir hraun á Íslandi, borðað soðna banana í Úganda, flotið í bleika vatninu í Senegal, róið út í brjáluðu veðri við Vestfirði, trommað, grafið gröf, skrifað ástarbréf, alið börn, mokað snjó, kveikt elda og gengið Kilimanjaro. Hún er þess vegna ekki beinagrind eins manns. Hún er beinagrind mannkynsins. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eÁ Íslandi man Sameiningin sérstaklega eftir gömlum sjómanni í litlu sjávarþorpi. Hann hét Jón og var með skakkar hendur eftir áratugi á sjónum. Hann talaði lítið, svaf lítið og trúði því að maður ætti aldrei að kvarta yfir kulda. Á kvöldin sat hann samt stundum einn í eldhúsinu og nuddaði hnéin af því að hann verkjaði í beinin undan veðrinu. Þúsundum kílómetrum í burtu, í Úganda, sat kona sem hét Amina undir mangótré og nuddaði líka hnén sín eftir langan dag. Hún hafði aldrei séð snjó. Jón hafði aldrei séð mangótré. Þau töluðu ekki sama tungumál. Þau hefðu líklega ekki skilið hvort annað. En beinin í þeim skildu hvort annað fullkomlega. Þreyta er nefnilega alþjóðlegt tungumál. Sama er með sorgina.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eÞegar móðir missir barn á Íslandi bogna axlirnar hennar fram á nákvæmlega sama hátt og hjá móður í Senegal. Þegar einhver hlær svo mikið að hann missir andann hristast rifbeinin eins hjá krökkum í Reykjavík og Kampala. Sameiningin gengur þess vegna hljóðlega á milli fólks og hvíslar „Þið eruð miklu líkari en þið haldið.” En fólk gleymir því oft.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eÞað rífst  og skammast um landamæri, húðlit, trú, peninga og fána. Svo deyr það og verður að sömu hvítu beinunum.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e---\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis being is called the Unity.\u003cbr\u003eIt reminds me that beneath all the names, languages, skin colors, religions, national anthems and family stories, we all have a skeleton that looks pretty much the same.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Unity was created from all the bones that had once danced and sung. Bones that had run barefoot over lava in Iceland, eaten boiled bananas in Uganda, floated in the pink water of Senegal, rowed out in crazy weather in the Westfjords, drummed, dug a grave, wrote love letters, raised children, shoveled snow, lit fires and hiked Kilimanjaro. It is therefore not the skeleton of one person. It is the skeleton of humanity.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn Iceland, the Unity is particularly remembered by an old sailor in a small fishing village. His name was Jón and his hands were crooked from decades at sea. He spoke little, slept little and believed that one should never complain about the cold. In the evenings, he would sit alone in the kitchen, sometimes rubbing his knees because his bones ached from the weather. Thousands of miles away, in Uganda, a woman named Amina sat under a mango tree, also rubbing her knees after a long day. She had never seen snow. Jon had never seen a mango tree. They didn’t speak the same language. They probably wouldn’t have understood each other. But their bones understood each other perfectly. Fatigue is an international language. The same goes for grief.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen a mother loses a child in Iceland, her shoulders hunch forward in exactly the same way as a mother in Senegal. When someone laughs so hard that they lose their breath, the ribs shake in the same way in kids in Reykjavík and Kampala. That’s why unity moves silently between people, whispering, “You’re a lot more alike than you think.” But people often forget that.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey argue and shame about borders, skin color, religion, money, and flags. Then they dies and become the same white bones.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"svavs","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":53808790798700,"sku":null,"price":8000.0,"currency_code":"ISK","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0913\/6593\/3420\/files\/IMG-2522_1f86f5dc-72be-46b1-98bc-9cfb1104242a.jpg?v=1779835179","url":"https:\/\/svavs.is\/products\/sameining-1","provider":"svavs","version":"1.0","type":"link"}