1. Else-Maj
ELSE-MAJ
1950
She was little, the smallest of them all. No one would have guessed she was seven. But what good did that do? Once you were seven, you were no longer allowed to live at home.
Else-Maj sat in the second row of the classroom, next to a girl called Biret. They were the same age, but Else-Maj only came up to Biret’s shoulder. Her feet didn’t touch the floor; if she’d been home at the kitchen table, or sitting on the milk churn stand in the village, she would have swung her legs. But she only did that when she was happy. Here, her body felt stiff with winter cold no matter the season.
Two weeks ago she had been taken from her family. Forced onto a bus that drove away from her home village of Badje Sohppar to Láttevárri, fifteen kilometers away. When she entered the dormitory building, the maids were all standing in a line, smiling at the children, whose faces were streaked with tears. At the front of the room stood the headmistress of the school, whom they were to address as Housemother. She was not smiling.
Else-Maj couldn’t speak Swedish and didn’t understand what they said. Her older brothers had told her, before she left, that she was no longer allowed to speak Sámi. They had warned her about Housemother. “Don’t annoy her, because—smack!” Else-Maj bit her lip each day to remind herself not to say anything in her own language.
After welcoming them to the nomad school that first day, the maids had shown the children to their dormitories. Else-Maj came last, her suitcase thumping up the steps behind her one at a time. The girls’ rooms were one floor up; she stopped to rest on the first landing and then everyone else was gone. They’d already made it to their rooms and seemed to know just how everything worked around here. Else-Maj herself had no idea. She glanced back at the front door and tears blurred her vision as she thought of being locked in. One of the maids came back and she hurriedly wiped away a tear.
“Come on, sweetheart,” said the young woman in Swedish, reaching for Else-Maj’s suitcase to lend a hand.
Else-Maj didn’t move, wondering what the woman had said, unsure of how to behave. When her lower lip began to tremble, the maid swiftly bent down and whispered in Sámi:
“You can talk to me if there’s anything you don’t understand. But remember: not when Housemother is nearby.”
The maid’s name was Anna, and she was from the nearby hamlet of A ? evuopmi. She was round and soft, with freckles and crooked teeth in a serious overbite, which she often hid by smiling with her mouth closed.
Now, as Else-Maj sat in the classroom in the school, she kept her eyes on the dormitory, longing for Anna. Lessons were hard; she couldn’t follow along and often daydreamed instead. But even so, it was safer to be in school, because Housemother wasn’t there. The teacher’s name was Bertil, but you were never allowed to call him that. He was strict, too, but no one was as bad as Housemother.
Else-Maj had seen her take the switch and haul a child out of the common room. She’d heard the screams. All the games stopped short, and the children stared at the floor. Everyone but Else-Maj, who’d spotted Anna in the hall. She stood up to dash into her arms, but Anna shook her head frantically and vanished from sight.
Else-Maj wanted to ask what the boy had done wrong, so she could make sure not to do the same thing by accident. She whispered into Biret’s ear, even though she knew it was risking their lives to do so—one of the big boys had said that Housemother once killed a child for speaking Sámi. That was the kind of talk you might hear if you snuck around the corner of the dormitory at recess or after dinner, because that’s where secret conversations in Sámi took place. Else-Maj seldom dared go over there, as she’d seen Housemother come rushing outside after she cracked a window and overheard the children.
Instead, Else-Maj tried to make herself invisible and stuck close to Anna anytime she had the chance. When Housemother shouted at the children, Else-Maj looked at Anna and saw that she, too, flinched. That she sometimes rocked back and forth as though she were bracing herself to speak up. But no one, no one , ever contradicted Housemother.
Outwardly, Housemother wasn’t so different from the ladies back in the village, maybe a bit taller and more broad-shouldered, almost like a man, but she wore a skirt and cardigan and often kept her dark hair in a bun at her nape. But it was that firm mouth, that jutting chin, and especially those narrowing eyes that marked her as dangerous. Else-Maj had seen her transform from a kindly older lady to something very different.
T EACHER B ERTIL WAS UP at the blackboard, writing a sentence in white chalk. Else-Maj hated Swedish lessons. It was better when they got to do math, because even if she couldn’t say the numbers in Swedish, she could still work out the problems.
Best of all was when they got to recite Swedish in unison, because then she could mouth the words, but when Teacher wanted to hear them one by one her throat tightened and she gazed down at her desk.
Her stomach rumbled even though they’d just had breakfast. She stared at the clock over the door; she couldn’t tell time but had noticed that a lesson often ended when the big hand pointed straight up. Not long, now.
Suddenly the classroom was silent—she’d forgotten to mouth along, and it felt like everyone was waiting for something.
“Else-Maj, I said it was your turn.”
Hearing her name, she realized Teacher expected her to speak. Her heart pounded as he rose from his desk and approached her. He grabbed her cheeks with one hand and she smelled soap. He squeezed and said the word pedantically in front of her. Apparently Teacher would make her repeat after him, force her mouth to follow his movements.
She wet herself. It just came pouring out, and there was no way she could stop it. Pee ran down the chair legs and someone laughed. The teacher instinctively backed away, disgusted.
“Go!”
She looked up at him, not understanding.
“Go to the dormitories!”
He pointed at the door. She still didn’t understand.
“Mana!” whispered Biret.
Teacher stared at her friend, livid. Else-Maj knew this could only get worse, so she sprang to her feet and ran for the door, a chill on her bottom and legs. She raced across the schoolyard, toward the dormitory, and Anna swooped her up at the door. Else-Maj tried to keep her backside away from Anna, crying and saying that she had wet herself. The Sámi words flowed out of her, and Anna placed a warm hand gently over her mouth.
“She’s close by,” she whispered in Else-Maj’s ear. “You must stop crying.”
Anna took her hand away and they went down to the showers in the cellar.
Else-Maj peeled off her wet tights and underwear and nearly burst into tears again when she saw that the skirt her mother had sewn was stained. Anna took the clothes over to the washtub in the corner and began to scrub them.
“You rinse off quick.”
Else-Maj washed her legs in warm water, ashamed to be seen half-naked. She tried to turn away, wanting to crouch down and hide.
“I’ll get you some fresh clothes,” Anna said before she hurried off.
Else-Maj took her towel from the peg and shivered a little before she was dry. Then she heard heels against the floor—a sharp sound, at a pace different from Anna’s. She backed up and tried to disappear among the towels. The showerhead was dripping, and Housemother had come to turn it off. When she turned around, their eyes met. Else-Maj immediately cast her gaze down at her pale feet, already as wide as her enná’s.
“What are you doing here?”
Her voice hit the walls, striking Else-Maj, who looked up and shook her head slowly.
“Why are you undressed?”
Else-Maj looked at her mouth, that angry expression and severe lips. “I’m sorry,” she replied softly.
Anna had taught her these words in Swedish; it was what she was supposed to say if anything went wrong. Housemother grabbed her arm, and her towel fell to the floor. Else-Maj tried to turn away, but she didn’t want to show either her front or backside. She just wanted to sit down and let her thighs hide her. The switch hung on the wall, and she knew Housemother would whip even the littlest ones. It felt like she might wet herself again.
Anna’s soft steps returned, and she entered with a stack of clothing. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide. Housemother shook Else-Maj as she spoke sharply to Anna, who responded in a pleading tone. Else-Maj wanted to scream in pain as Housemother’s nails dug into her arm through the flimsy fabric. Tears welled in her eyes but she knew she had to swallow them down, try to imagine herself somewhere else. Somewhere else, but not home. If she thought of home for even a second, she would start to sob.
Housemother let go, gave Anna one last order, and left the shower room. Gone was the gentle Anna, her movements now brusque; she handed Else-Maj the fresh clothes without a word, only a wave, as if to say she must be quick. Else-Maj turned around and put on her underwear, but the tights balled up around her wet feet. Anna couldn’t wait and helped her pull them on. She smelled like sweat and didn’t look Else-Maj in the eyes, didn’t whisper anything in her ear. Well, until it was over. Just one word.
“Várála?.”
Dangerous.
They hurried up the stairs together and Anna went into one of the bathrooms next to the boys’ dormitories, where she unrolled a big wad of toilet paper and gave it to Else-Maj, then gently herded her along. Hurry, hurry.
Else-Maj wanted to dig in her heels. She had to go back to the classroom? Was she supposed to wipe up the pee in front of everyone?
“In hálet…”
Anna covered her mouth, more roughly this time, and shook her head. She was clearly frightened. She pushed Else-Maj out the door, and there she stood, in the cold autumn sun, looking over at the yellow school building with its long rows of windows and stone steps with a cast-iron railing. She gazed down the road, the one that led home. No one had told her when she would be allowed to go home again. There was a sharp rap on a window, and she jumped. Anna stood behind the glass, waving. Mana! Go!
And so she went, walking slowly across the schoolyard. The gravel crunched, the sun was hidden for a moment by the clouds, and the wind tugged at the loose strands of her hair. She wasn’t very good at braiding, as she was used to her enná’s deft hands brushing past her ears. Her legs didn’t want to keep going, but she couldn’t stop. When she turned around, the window was empty. The coarse toilet paper was crumpled into a ball in her hand. She didn’t make it to the building before the door flew open and the class streamed out. Someone laughed at her, called her a poopy-butt. In Sámi, even. Baikabahta. It was strictly against the rules, but some of the children were naughty during outdoor recess. Else-Maj looked for her new friend Biret, the one who dared to whisper in Sámi. She didn’t want to miss out on the chance to play with her. She ran up the stairs and opened the classroom door to find Teacher still sitting at his desk, squinting behind his glasses.
She raised her hand to show him the toilet paper, and he gave a quick nod. She went to her chair and hurried to wipe the seat, the legs, and the floor. It smelled bad, and she got pee on her hands.
Teacher heaved loud and irritated sighs, so she tried to make quick work of it. Then she gave a little curtsey and held the wet paper behind her back as she trudged out of the classroom.