AN ALLODIUM-GIRL’S DILEMMA
Writer: Celine Våga
Illustrator: Rebecca Rehell Øistad
Translator: Rebekka Berg
AN ALLODIUM-GIRL’S DILEMMA
Before the summer, my father sent a message to the family chat asking if anyone would consider taking over the farm. The question came somewhat abruptly, even though we have discussed the topic before, both between me and my parents and among my siblings. The reason he brought it up somewhat out of the blue was because of the sale of milk quotas. It was advantageous to sell them within a short period due to recent legal changes.
JI’m the eldest daughter, one of three useless farm children who ventured out into the big world to study and do everything but farm work. It was typical that I ended up at the old agricultural college, intending to study biology and fell in love with the idea of being self-sufficient on a small farm far away. But when my father suddenly reminded me that this daydream was actually my birthright, everything became too real too quickly. It would have been madness. I know nothing about farming or milk quotas. Nor was being a full-on farmer something I envisioned when I studied ecotoxicology and environmental management law.
But I felt a pang inside me, a feeling I know many young people who have grown up on farms feel. That pang was, and is, the guilt and anxiety of betraying the generations before me and the thought of losing the farm my siblings and I grew up on. It’s the nostalgia of memories of being licked by cows on the way into the barn, playing and climbing on silage bales, and old coveralls that never fit properly, whispering in my ear. Growing up on a farm has given me a closeness to nature and a development of character on both the physical and mental levels that I would never want to be without.
But, even though a large part of me actually wants to take over the farm, it’s madness. It’s not a life choice that makes sense as life is now, or aligns with the direction I’m taking in life. And, perhaps most importantly, it’s not exactly viable to be a farmer in Norway today. For some skilled and committed farmers, it might be, but I can’t quite see myself as one of them. Despite support schemes and attempts at systemic changes, just the thought of taking over the farm is incredibly scary. But I know that the farm has led me to become who I am. I know that I want my children to experience the same as me and feel the same joy I did. If only taking over a farm wasn’t an economic doomsday as it is for many today. If only there was a 5-minute YouTube tutorial on how to save a family farm from dying out (I must check if it exists) without falling into debt and becoming exhausted both mentally and physically. I could probably make a half-hearted attempt at running a farm, but doesn’t the family heritage deserve more than that? This is probably just a part of the allodium-girl’s dilemma.
