Home
Politics
Tone Bjorkli, accompanied by her friend Mirja, added a small wreath of white flowers to the growing collection.
"It's quite scary to see all that on the telly," said the 31-year-old artist.
"But on the other hand, its comforting to come here and see everybody so moved."
But then as they pointed out, it was not as if they could think of anything else but Friday's bombing that killed seven people in the government district; and the killing spree that followed on Utoeya island, not far from the capital.
Police said at least 85 people attending a summer camp run by the youth wing of the ruling Labour Party lost their lives there. And they have warned that the death toll could rise.
"It's the only thing that people are talking about," said Tone. "We need to get it all out."
Among those paying their tribute to the dead here were members of the royal family, who came to light candles. Earlier Saturday, along with the Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg and members of the government, they spoke to survivors of the island massacre.
Beside Tone and Mirja in the crowd, stood Farid Omar, a 23-year-old Burundian who has lived in Norway for seven years.
He had come, he said, to show "that it's not just the Norwegian people who are affected. I too, as an immigrant, I can say that it's shameful what has happened".
It had brought back memories of the violence in Burundi, he added. But he would have never expected something like this to happen in Norway.
As a Muslim Farid confessed to being relieved that the main suspect in the killings was a Norwegian, "because if not it would have destroyed the multiculturalism that exists here.
"Look, there are foreigners everywhere, there are 24,000 Somalis in central Oslo alone," he added.
Nor was Farid the only immigrant among the thousands filing through the cathedral.
"There are even veiled Muslims who have come here to the cathedral," Pastor Anne Anita Lilleboe, the university chaplain, said. She had volunteered to help organise the day's mourning.
Inside the cathedral, couples leaned against each other as dozens of people filed past the chapel, lit up by hundreds of candles. The pastor estimated that some 400 people were paying their respects here every hour.
The cathedral, along with the Sundvolden Hotel outside the capital where survivors of the shooting were being sheltered and counselled, has become a focus of the wave of grief and compassion that has swept so many people here.
And all across the city, the flags were at half-mast.
Outside in the courtyard, 64-year-old Einar Andresen, on the verge of tears, hugged his friend Nicolas.
"It's the worst crime that I have ever know in Norway," he said, his voice tight with emotion.
"I needed to go to the church with a lot of people. I'm not anyone importat, but it's important that we are all together," he said.
"These children...," said Nicolas, thinking of the victims of the shooting.
"I have no sympathy with the Labour Party -- but good grief, if I don't like someone I'm not going to take a gun and kill him."
Barely 50 metres (yards) away, small groups of people were gathered on the edge of the cordoned-off area where the car bomb wrought havoc in the government quarter.
Soldiers in full battle gear and carrying automatic weapons stood guard as the locals and tourists gazed at the devastated facades of the buildings, windows shattered by the force of the blast.
Several nearby shops were not open for business: "Closed because of the situation," said one sheet of paper.
Linn Elese Amundsen, a 24-year-old student and her photographer friend Nichlas Andersen had thought of their own gesture. Both wore "I love Oslo" t-shirts, the word "love" represented by a heart.
"When I woke up, I thought that this was the day to put it on," said Linn.
"I still can't believe it, this is little Norway here, nothing usually happens to us."
But she added: "Today, I think all this brings people together, it brings people closer."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"It's quite scary to see all that on the telly," said the 31-year-old artist.
"But on the other hand, its comforting to come here and see everybody so moved."
But then as they pointed out, it was not as if they could think of anything else but Friday's bombing that killed seven people in the government district; and the killing spree that followed on Utoeya island, not far from the capital.
Police said at least 85 people attending a summer camp run by the youth wing of the ruling Labour Party lost their lives there. And they have warned that the death toll could rise.
"It's the only thing that people are talking about," said Tone. "We need to get it all out."
Among those paying their tribute to the dead here were members of the royal family, who came to light candles. Earlier Saturday, along with the Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg and members of the government, they spoke to survivors of the island massacre.
Beside Tone and Mirja in the crowd, stood Farid Omar, a 23-year-old Burundian who has lived in Norway for seven years.
He had come, he said, to show "that it's not just the Norwegian people who are affected. I too, as an immigrant, I can say that it's shameful what has happened".
It had brought back memories of the violence in Burundi, he added. But he would have never expected something like this to happen in Norway.
As a Muslim Farid confessed to being relieved that the main suspect in the killings was a Norwegian, "because if not it would have destroyed the multiculturalism that exists here.
"Look, there are foreigners everywhere, there are 24,000 Somalis in central Oslo alone," he added.
Nor was Farid the only immigrant among the thousands filing through the cathedral.
"There are even veiled Muslims who have come here to the cathedral," Pastor Anne Anita Lilleboe, the university chaplain, said. She had volunteered to help organise the day's mourning.
Inside the cathedral, couples leaned against each other as dozens of people filed past the chapel, lit up by hundreds of candles. The pastor estimated that some 400 people were paying their respects here every hour.
The cathedral, along with the Sundvolden Hotel outside the capital where survivors of the shooting were being sheltered and counselled, has become a focus of the wave of grief and compassion that has swept so many people here.
And all across the city, the flags were at half-mast.
Outside in the courtyard, 64-year-old Einar Andresen, on the verge of tears, hugged his friend Nicolas.
"It's the worst crime that I have ever know in Norway," he said, his voice tight with emotion.
"I needed to go to the church with a lot of people. I'm not anyone importat, but it's important that we are all together," he said.
"These children...," said Nicolas, thinking of the victims of the shooting.
"I have no sympathy with the Labour Party -- but good grief, if I don't like someone I'm not going to take a gun and kill him."
Barely 50 metres (yards) away, small groups of people were gathered on the edge of the cordoned-off area where the car bomb wrought havoc in the government quarter.
Soldiers in full battle gear and carrying automatic weapons stood guard as the locals and tourists gazed at the devastated facades of the buildings, windows shattered by the force of the blast.
Several nearby shops were not open for business: "Closed because of the situation," said one sheet of paper.
Linn Elese Amundsen, a 24-year-old student and her photographer friend Nichlas Andersen had thought of their own gesture. Both wore "I love Oslo" t-shirts, the word "love" represented by a heart.
"When I woke up, I thought that this was the day to put it on," said Linn.
"I still can't believe it, this is little Norway here, nothing usually happens to us."
But she added: "Today, I think all this brings people together, it brings people closer."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
