Swedish-French family want Finnish citizenship

Falkeheds have never visited this country

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By Matias Möttölä
     
      The door closes, and the Parisian home is filled with French chatter. The language changes when the 11-year-olds Emma and Juliette Falkehed see their father Magnus.
      “Hej Pappa", the twins say in Swedish.
      The father gets a hug, and the guest’s cheeks are kissed.
     
Magnus Falkehed, 40, is a journalist who grew up in Stockholm, and has lived in Paris for 17 years. His wife is French, and Emma and Juliette are already the citizens of two countries.
      None of them have ever visited Finland. Their common knowledge of the language is limited to the words “yksi” (one) and “kaksi” (two).
      They are unlikely to ever move to Finland, but if everything goes according to plan, the father and the daughters will also have Finnish citizenship in a few months.
     
Magnus Falkehed’s mother Annikki Soininen was born in Karelia near Lake Ladoga in 1936. During the Continuation War Annikki was evacuated to Sweden as a “war child”.
      Annikki returned to Finland after the war ended, but when her Swedish foster family invited her to move in with them, she grasped the opportunity.
      She took on Swedish citizenship and married a Swede.
      Magnus heard the Finnish language mainly from relatives who came to visit. For him, his mother’s homeland was a country that was pressed against the armpit of Russia, and which was led by men who took sauna baths.
      “I can see that I am a descendant of a war child. I repeat the tough experiences of my mother to my children, such as the long distances she had to ski to get to school”, he laughs.
     
Falkehed has tried to keep his daughters connected with the Swedish language and culture. He has enthusiastically dug up his own Finnish roots.
      He has submitted his declaration for Finnish citizenship at the Finnish consulate - in French, in spite of the fact that his native Swedish is also an official language in Finland. “It proved to be the best common language with the official there.”
      “There were no personal questions, and no tests for language skills or anything else. It felt quite liberating.”
     
Falkehed takes out a receipt from a pile of papers: EUR 240. That is what it has cost him to make his family Finnish citizens.
      “Finland has extended its hand, and I cannot imagine why I should not grasp it.”
      Magnus is thinking mainly of his daughters. “Nobody knows what the world will be like 50 years from now. Perhaps France will be at war with a “Berlusconiesque” Italy, and my daughters and their families will thank their grandfather for offering refuge in a cabin in Lapland, the last snow-covered corner of Europe.”
      Or it could be that Sweden might leave the EU, after which a Finnish passport will offer freer movement.
      “Abroad my children will have one embassy more to help if something happens.”
      The family is planning a trip to Karelia, but Finland is still a strange country for the girls. Finnishness for them largely consists of the heavy metal musicians of Teräsbetoni who sang in the Eurovision Song Context.
      “But don’t they seem like nice guys? After all, they are Finns”, their father says.
      “Nooo...” Juliette begins, but then holds back her impulse with all the Swedish-French tact that she can muster.
     
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 2.6.2008


Previously in HS International Edition:
  New citizenship legislation welcomed by expatriate Finns - some complain of high application fee (2.6.2003)

Links:
  Finnish Immigration Service: The deadline for submission of citizenship declarations is 2 June 2008

MATIAS MÖTTÖLÄ / Helsingin Sanomat