Crazy People Get Paid Too

“If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up.”

                                                                                                        -Hunter S. Thompson

I went to the interview. It was in a warehouse on River Road in Clifton, New Jersey a block from the infamous “Rutt’s Hutt” a hot dog and hamburger joint that hasn’t changed in decades, nor should it and who’s grinders, or deep fried hot dogs, smeared with a mysterious mustard-like condiment filled many a happy lunch hour for me and my compatriots. The parking lot of the warehouse was littered with giant potholes which were often flooded with rainwater and motor oil. It was like driving on the back roads in some developing nation. There were two big bay doors, usually open. I parked and walked inside.

The clothes from the donation bins came in here off of tracker trailers, collected by independent contractors who picked up the clothes from the donation bins each from his particular route. My boss often wondered if these contractors were stealing clothes from the bins and selling them privately. Much investigation time was put in by him, both during and off hours. But my boss was no gumshoe. He caught only one guy but he fired him, and felt a brief satisfaction in it. The clothes were sorted, compressed and sold in bundles to unsavory looking brokers who hauled them out in their own trucks. I must have spoken to one of the guys in our warehouse once I arrived for my interview, probably either Mario or Walter.

Mario was a tall, skinny, shaven headed El Salvadorian. He loved to talk about Carnivale in his home country, how it lasted for days drinking, dancing, eating and carousing.  I never tired of his explaining it. Another favorite topic was how many Coronas he ingested the weekend before. Walter was the other warehouse worker that sticks out in my mind. He was a dim but kindhearted, older, southern black gentleman with a fu manchu. He always wore a baseball cap. He was sweet and had an easy smile. Once on a trip together to collect clothes in one of our trucks, I had offered to buy him a frozen yogurt at a rest stop. It was hot. There was no AC. I wanted something to cool me down. He looked at me dubiously. But when he tried it, he couldn’t stop saying, “Man! That’s good! MAN that’s good!”

After searching for where the interview was to be held, I must have been pointed to the office, a rectangular outgrowth on the far left of the warehouse. It had two rooms, the manager’s private office in back and a secretarial and reception area in front. It was in the reception area that I was met by Alma, a whiny, energetic, obsessive, obsequious middle-aged Puerto Rican woman with curly dark hair and thick glasses. She had family drama that she would bemoan out loud and ask everyone’s opinion on one at a time—a son in and out of prison, seething arguments with her son’s girlfriend who was also her grandchildren’s mother. It was also rumored that our regional manager was or did have an affair with her, which may be why she had some sort of leverage over the warehouse workers.

The guys in the warehouse hated her. Every day she’d go in there and boss them around. They’d tell her to go to hell. Our manager would then have to go out there and yell at them. They’d go back to work. But when she went out there to frantically lecture or order or command, they’d insult her again. It’s a wonder they got anything done at all. 

She treated the warehouse workers with absolute contempt, though I have to admit that, just like a nagging mother, sometimes, not often but sometimes she was right and the workers did occasionally run into trouble because of this. As callously as she ordered the men, Alma lavished Jostein and me with accolades. She ran to get his coffee. She complimented both of us all the time, to the point where it embarrassed me. It was sick and utterly transparent. I usually quickly thanked and then ignored her.

Once in the office, waiting for the interview to begin, I was asked to sit and wait, making small talk with Alma. Finally, she led me through the reception area into the manager’s office to meet Jostein Pedersen himself. His first name is pronounced Yostein. He is a small, bespectacled, older gentleman now in his early seventies, with a white beard and a shy smile. He was a runner and has a runner’s physique. He loved running marathons and won many metals, especially in his age group, until his leg gave him trouble. Poor guy had to quit. He seemed lost for a while. It was a big part of his life. It made me wonder what I may have to give up someday when I too get old.

One of the reasons I sort of believe the cult label of the Teacher’s Group is that Jostein had the wide, unblinking stare of the true believer. Doesn’t matter the ideology, I’ve seen street preachers on wooden boxes in Boston Common, who called me a sinner and said I’d be going straight to hell, with the same exact stare. Jostein shuddered every morning while Democracy Now!’s “War and Peace Report” with Amy Goodman blasted out of his office radio, filling him with a righteous indignation he both savored and despised.

He was grandfatherly, but a little cold at times. Whenever he introduced himself in meetings he would say, “My name is Yostein. I’m a Norwegian.” He’d smile, squint and shake firmly, two awkward pumps as if he’d seen this ritual in an informational video but never experienced it in real life. Jostein was a good boss overall. He cared. And he was a nice guy. I invited him to Easter one time. He came. 

He didn’t really know anyone in New Jersey. The Teacher’s Group just sent him to work here. His Danish girlfriend Jane, an enigmatic, attractive older woman visited from time to time. She was living in Slovakia and working in the used clothes business, gathering them and selling them in a store there. He is there working with her now. At Easter at my mom’s he seemed jolly, carried upon the wave of good feelings. He thought we served way too much food however. And as Italian-Americans, we do.

Jostein had an innovative concept which he brought up at my interview, trying to sell to towns the idea of curbside collection. Donation bins are unsightly. People dump all kinds of things in front of them. They are vandalized sometimes covered in graffiti. We had reports of them on fire. One of our drivers even found a homeless man living in one. He swears it was locked when he came up to it. If you’ve ever seen how small the shoot is in one of these things, you’d agree it isn’t an easy feet for someone to get in there.

Jostein wanted to move away from donation bins altogether. Great idea. He had already done this in Somerset County. But the quality of the textiles collected wasn’t good. Once I was hired, I wrote a proposal and looked up the names of all the recycling coordinators in all of the towns in New Jersey. I sent them informational packets with promotional materials that were just lying around. No one was doing anything with them. I told them, “Reduce your solid waste disposal fees, and advertise to your town that you are doing textile recycling.” I got us a lot of meetings.

It was very successful until clients started seeing the anti-Tvind and Humana websites. Then they wouldn’t call us back. Any town or group that didn’t look into it or didn’t care was very happy with the program. I told Jostein that unless you answer these claims to defend yourself, people are automatically going to think you’re guilty. Because why wouldn’t you defend yourself against those spreading vicious lies? But they didn’t want to go in that direction, which makes me think that TG has something to hide.

This was an exciting job and I was very successful. I started doing expos and speaking engagements. I met Ted Danson, Ed Begley Jr., and Senator Robert Menendez at the Global Green Expo. I got published twice. I did a five part series called, “Into Africa” on www.nj.com/helpinghands, and I got an article in WasteAge, now Waste360 a recycling trade magazine. I met my wife the love of my life. I got to go to Africa. And I got this tremendous business idea. So I do owe Planet Aid a lot. But as I learned more about the organization and what was going on, things got weirder. In my next post I’ll talk about my training to go to Africa, the Tvind school I went to on top of a mountain in the Berkshires and the other managers in training I met, from other parts of the country.  

A Bizarre Shadow

It's no wonder that truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense.”

             -Mark Twain

In 2007, after taking off a year to finish a novel, I started looking for work again. I came across a job on Craig’s List. It was a manager in training program for a company called Planet Aid, Inc. Planet Aid uses donation bins to collect clothes, shoes, toys and books. They sell these items and the profits fund development projects in the poorest countries around the world. As part of their manager in training program, the trainee got to go to Africa for three months and work at one of their projects, in order to see firsthand the good Planet Aid does. What I experienced was far more complicated than just that. Planet Aid has since cancelled this program. I think my team was the pilot. I’m sure it wasn’t cost effective. And of our group of seven or so, only one stayed on.  

As for me, at the time I didn’t really have a fascination with Africa per se. But I was intrigued that a job would offer such a unique opportunity. I couldn’t get my head around what that experience might be like. But I didn’t want to miss a life changing opportunity, to go to Africa for free! I had been lucky with Israel, so why not try again. I sent them my CV and cover letter and got a call.

I didn’t do my due diligence, didn’t do any real research past the company’s website. Over time, I came to find that Planet Aid was the American wing of another organization, Humana People to People. And this organization is run by members of a controversial organization called The Teacher’s Group (TG), sometimes known as Tvind. TG has been called a cult. They’ve also been accused of embezzlement, fraud and tax evasion by the Danish High Court. But who are they really? And are these allegations true?  

According to my wife—a former DNS member, the Teacher’s Group was started by a group of Danish hippies in the early 1970’s as a reaction against Denmark’s consideration of nuclear energy as part of their energy policy. The Danish government was going to hold a referendum on whether the country should embrace nuclear power. The Danish are a proud and independent people, big on referendums. They even voted down the Euro. They are still on the Danish Krone, and proud to be.

So a group of Danish hippies came together against nuclear energy, and built what they claim is the world’s first modern energy generating windmill.

They even claim to have invented specific design innovations such as the shape of the blades, the motor that turns in the direction of the wind, and others. My wife said she has seen pictures of people digging with spoons the hole that would become the windmill’s foundation. That windmill still powers their first school to this day. And nuclear power, according to The Teacher’s Group, was voted down in Denmark due to their efforts. They believe this is why Denmark is one of the leading countries in renewable energy today.

Energized from this great victory, they decided they wanted to do something more. This next part I learned from my old boss. They wanted to help people in the developing world. And they knew that what was shown on TV wasn’t real life. They wanted to go out and experience real life in other places, and see how they could help the poor of the world. So they got a bus and drove from Denmark to India, stopping many places along the way.

My former boss Jostein said that driving through Iran was the scariest part. The Iranian border guards asked if they had any liquor, pornography or anything morally irreprehensible. Since they didn’t, they were allowed to pass through. Next, they wound through tight mountain passes and tiny roads in the mountains of Afghanistan. They drove in shifts. Jostein drove the bus at times and remembers getting caught in a few places where the passes were too small to fit their big bus. They had to wiggle in and out to get through. Somewhere along the way they tore a hole in the oil pan. A local mechanic used “magic” some sort of liquid that formed a patch as it cooled. They continued their journey and made it to India.

They met many people, had amazing experiences and saw for themselves the way people were living in each place and region. They eventually traveled throughout Asia, Africa, the Caribbean and Latin America. They started development projects to help people in need. And they began forming traveling folk schools, a new twist on a Danish tradition.

By law in Denmark, any group can start a school. All you need is to get your paperwork in order. No regulations exist. And the state funds these schools. The Teacher’s Group believed in John Dewey’s learning by doing, and created a radical program based on this. They started “Det Nᴓdvendige Seminarium” (DNS) in English, “The Necessary Teacher Training College.” They bought a piece of rural land in Denmark and named it Tvind for the twisty brook that runs through the property. They are sometimes known by this name. TG now has schools all over including one in the Caribbean, one in the Berkshires, one in Michigan, several in California, one in England and many, many other places. All of their schools and many of their projects look alike, almost as if they were the exact same building.

Radicals in their late teens and 20s, the lost, the perpetually strange and those way out-in-left-field come from all over Europe and farther afield, gathering at Tvind to join DNS. They now gather at the other schools too. They pay thousands to join. Then they take classes, do chores, projects, sell postcards on the street, or beg for donations which pushy TG’ers call “fundraising,” and travel to projects in different countries to learn and volunteer.

Mostly, those who come want to travel to Asia or Africa, or they need a place to get away from their parents or their old lives, or they just need some time and distance to sort things out. Most are from the hippie persuasion, or some similar counterculture lifestyle. But the school isn’t accredited. So graduating from DNS doesn’t mean anything outside of TG. But it means a lot inside the Teacher’s Group. Once you successfully go through the DNS program and graduate, you have the option of joining TG.

The Teacher’s Group formed an ideology based on absolute collectivism, utilizing the phrase, “Common time, common economy and common life.” No DNS or TG members are allowed to use alcohol or drugs as it messes up the individual and so the collective. And one of their core beliefs that in the modern world, people trade their time for money. They work at something they don’t like in order to make money, and do what they want on the weekend. Tvind members believe that they have eliminated this dichotomy. That what they want to do and their job is one. But what ends up happening is, they just work all the time, with little or no free time, and they expect anyone related to their enterprises to do the same.

The Teacher’s Group is supposed to be a horizontal collectivism. Everyone in the Teacher’s Group gets a vote. Everything is discussed and decided on collectively. But I’ve heard that in truth there is an inner circle that vote on everything, decide everything. Once you join TG you are supposed to give all of your financial assets then and henceforth to the collective pot. They give you healthcare and a place to live. But TG tells you where to live, where you will work, what you will do and so on. Some members get married and/or have children, but this is frowned upon.

Above them all may be a leader, Mogens Amdi Petersen—a charismatic speaker who has been in hiding for over twenty years. Last we heard he left a luxury apartment in Miami worth over a million dollars. 

When I asked a fellow coworker about this when I found out about it, she said it wasn’t his penthouse, and that they just wanted a nice place to meet. There are rumors of Tvind supporting Mugabe in order to get good business deals in Zimbabwe, supporting Pol Pot and Gaddafi and others. Amdi Petersen was arrested in 2002 in L.A., shipped back to Denmark and put on trial with seven other members, but none were convicted or saw jail time.

Though found not guilty, in Denmark the public prosecutor plans to bring them to trial again. As of May, Amdi and his inner circle will be tried once again in the Danish High Court for embezzlement and tax evasion.  When I finally found out about websites like Humana Watch and Tvind Watch and read about the trials, I asked my boss about it. He said that they do not have a leader, though Amdi is a part of the Teacher’s Group. Jostein said that TG votes on everything, and that the trial was a malicious plot by the Danish government to discredit them.

As The Teacher’s Group grew, it diversified. Its projects include fighting HIV/AIDS, preschools, farmer’s clubs, teacher training colleges and other charitable projects in sub-Saharan Africa, China, India and other locales. It has schools for special education students in Denmark, students who have gone through all the regular programs and have nowhere else to go. It has a plantation in Brazil and other holdings in South and Central America. It deals in the lucrative used clothing business all over the world. It was under the dark and puzzling shadow of the Teacher's Group that my job at Planet Aid and my time in Africa occurred.

My friend Don, who worked with us for a short time, has an Irish Catholic background. He said they were Protestants without an ethos. TG had kept the Protestant work ethic, but jettisoned all else, the deeper philosophy and faith that tied it all together. In the end, what occurred to me was that a group who got together to be more humane and care for the world ended up being just as callous and bloated with avarice as those they claimed to be against.