 I will now allow Alfredo to also tell us about his life experience. Alfredo. Okay. Good morning and thank you. I would like to emphasise thank you to IOM and I would like to tell you why I am so thankful to this organisation. My name is Alfredo Samovio. I am born in Chile in 1960, many long time ago, and before the Cold War and all those kind of things. And one day, a beautiful day, not as cold as today, but a beautiful day, in September 11, 1973, my life changed. I was 12 years old. I lived with my father. He was a small contractor in a small city next to the border to Peru. A military could happen. Everything changed. People were in prison and we heard what was going on. We listened to Peruvian news and my father told me, go to the store, buy some food. Tonight, we will cross the border to Peru. I went to the store and when I am inside the store, I can see a military truck coming in front of the store, stop at my house, and they see that they are doing something but I was a child and I didn't understand fully the implication of what was going on. And then the truck drove back in front of the store and I could swear that gentleman inside that truck was very similar to my dad, but I could not add those two things together. So I went back home and I saw that everything, the little we had, was destroyed. They had ransacked and they were particularly interested in our books. And so I asked the neighbors what happened and they said the military came, they took your dad, but they were also looking for you and allowed me to go a little bit out of the protocol. Can you stand next to me? I was almost as tall as now. I was 12 years old but I was the size of someone like an adult person. So the police and the military were very interested in me. So my father told me, please hide. And I was 12, I looked big but I was a child so I did not understand what hiding was. But I understood that it was a little bit different than just play. So I hide in the river. And then later in the afternoon I came to the city and I saw people being harassed, pointed with guns and I slept that night in the house of a friend. He was killed one month later together with other two. His name was Gaston Valenzuela. I didn't see my father before April 74. During that time it's a little bit black. I don't remember much. I survived. I managed myself. And then during seven months later also I had the help of some family members who took care of me but it was difficult. Political speaking was very difficult for them. So I was left alone again and during those three years I survived alone on the streets of Chile. Doing everything you can as a child to survive. One day my father told me, you need to come. We have received the letter. And the letter was from that time IOM. Signed by a man called Roberto Cossack. He's still alive. He's had a long history as an IOM employee. At that time IOM was called ICM. And the letters say that the Norwegians, they were interested in my father. They wanted to meet him. And the Norwegian ambassador wanted to meet him so we couldn't be there. So of course my father was not going anywhere. He was in prison. So he was going to be there when the Norwegian ambassador came. So they had this meeting through the Nielsen. The Norwegian ambassador liked my father. And he recommended him to come to Norway. Months later IOM organized my papers, the papers of my dad. And they also accompanied us to the airport. My father was brought to the airport of Santiago by the military and the police. They took the handcuffs from him. The chain of the feet. They gave us back our passport and in the passport was the stamp on the ballot for exit. I may be too sensitive but I think they didn't like us in Chile. So then through Mr. Kossak he understood that we didn't have any money. So he just went into his pocket and gave us $7 that he had. And that was the start capital coming to Norway. We didn't know what was going to wait for us. We had no idea. And so in the plane, which was the first time we both were flying by the way, so we started fantasizing what is going to wait for us, what is happening. Imagine he said, if nobody is there, what will we do? So we hope that IOM had passed a message to someone in Norway. So my father and I, we agree on plan B. If nobody was there, we are going to go into a church. The Chileans, they like church. So we trust the church. So we think, okay, if nobody is there, we will go into a church and ask for help. But luckily someone was there. Before we arrived, landed, I forgot to tell you this. This is a small story in the middle of things. Next to us in the plane from Copenhagen to Oslo, a Norwegian gentleman, business dress. He's reading some magazines. And my father, he told me, ask him if you can borrow some of the Norwegian magazines so we can see what is life about in Norway. We didn't know much about Norway. I have heard about Ipsen. And so I asked him in my very primitive English, I said, borrow this. And the gentleman, he looked at me and he said, no. So I told my father, you know what he said. And my father said, don't worry. Gringos are like this. They eat too much hermetics. Something with the food. So that was a start. At the airport, there was a person from the Norwegian Refugee Council meeting us. We were placed in a reception center. Nobody told us that the food at the reception center was paid for. So we used the pocket money that we had something like $10 every week to buy bread and butter. And that was our existence for three months. My father was a very peculiar guy. He didn't speak a word of English, but he said hello to everyone in the streets. He went literally, he was free after three years in a Chilean military prison. He was from hell to heaven. And he was a blonde heaven. Blonde people, smiling people. So he went to the street and he said, hola. Buenos dias to everyone. People must think he was crazy. But one day, someone answered back in Spanish. That was the way he got his first job. That was two weeks after he arrived to Norway. He wanted desperately to start living again, to be a normal person, to work. Actually, his first word in Norwegian, and mine too, because I needed to learn from him, it was skattekort. And you, the Norwegian delegation, you smile because you know precisely what it means. Skattekort means tax card. Nothing happens in Norway if you don't have your tax card. You will not get a job. So my father's obsession was to have the tax card so he could get a job and pay his taxes, get an apartment, and start living again. And I, I was a child. I stopped stuttering like one week after I came to Norway. Those three years, they were difficult. So I did everything I didn't need to survive, but there was a huge pressure on me. As it is on any internal displaced person. I was an unaccompanied child. I was internally displaced. I was alone. And I was constantly in a fear of being taken by someone. So that changed to me. You know, and this was 1976. I don't know if you remember ABBA. That was the year of ABBA. So I came to school. There were 85 girls and six boys in that school. Can you imagine? I was lucky. And at that time there was a song which called Fernando. And this song Fernando said something that it was a black man in South America, a freedom fighter of some sort. And they thought I was something like that, these girls. I didn't say anything because, you know, I needed that social capital. But that was my start. People were sympathetic. They were receptive. I didn't go to Norwegian classes. I learned just by asking questions. And they had the time to tell me microphone, water, glass, everything. There was no fear from their side. They just accepted me and they were interested. That was in 1976. Years later the situation for migrants like us is different. And it has not been from one day to another. This has gradually changed like that. We have changed enemies. In the Cold War we have the communists. Then the communists disappeared. Then we had someone to find someone who couldn't defy as them. And this perception of them and us is constantly moving. And it's affecting also not only us because, you know, the old generation, we had the resilience and we really wanted the change. I wanted my tax card and study and do that. But then what happens with those children who are born in these countries? Or sons and daughters? And my daughter didn't like me to speak of her in public. So my apologies, don't tell her. She was like four years of age when we were walking on the streets of Oslo. And she started to read very early and she read on the wall in one school in the center of Oslo. He said, Pakistan, go home. Pakistan is the really aggressive way to say someone is from Pakistan. Pakistan, go home. And then my daughter, she read that really slowly as a four-year-old child and she said, what does it mean? That was one of the most painful moments in my life. As painful as it has been before. Because I needed to explain a child who was, for her, she was Norwegian. She was not Chilean. Chile was nothing for her. That something, some people didn't like people of her color. Because she understood that someone had put her on the term them. When she thought she was part of us. And that is the tension that continues. Now she's 27. And I contacted her immediately after the Oslo attacks two years ago and asked, you know, how are you? How are you doing? And she said it was the second time around where she felt something had crucially changed again. That someone had again put all those who are visibly foreigners in a pocket of them. And at the same time, there is a huge generation of young people like her changing things. No way is not like it was before. In 1976, it was one channel, one TV channel, one radio station. It was a democratic country, but things were different. The graduality has evolved. The paradigms of the otherness have evolved. They have changed. No way is the fact of a multicultural country. But there is still pressures in society that says we, meaning really, really Norwegians, should not change. And then there's a pressure of other Norwegians, even, you know, Norway, Norwegian, blonde, ethnic Norwegians who says, yes, society culture changes constantly. It's a myth. It's a lie that cultures do not change. They do. I don't think the same about Barcelona football club as I did three years ago. You change about everything. If we don't change, we have been a very boring life, don't you think? And that is also for countries, for societies. And I have been in Norway for now, my goodness, what time is that, 37 years? 10 of those years were working abroad in Bosnia, Colombia, East Timor, Darfur. And I see Norway changing also to the better, much better. But it's not easy. It requires voices like you, policymakers, who says change in a society is inevitable. We can never stop changing. And migrants contribute to that change. And I will, with little humbleness, I will say that I have contributed to the better, to change two millimeters of Norway to the better. And I think that capital that contributes, it's included in that change is something that no country can say no to. That capacity, imagine the possibilities that you have when you receive migrants who can change you to the better. And also, negative is attention. No, there are people like us, we are not dangerous. We have people among this room, you will say if you are a Christian or a religious person, you will say there are sinners among us. People have different ways of living. How do we evolve together? And I will just finalize saying thank you to IUM, and thank you for allowing me this space to tell this small story. Thanks. Thank you very much for your space to hear that story, especially at a time when we're hearing the debate about whether or not multiculturalism has failed in Europe. I think it's very interesting to hear from your perspective and your experience. All right, thank you. Let's now hear from Yolanda.