The White Nigga

By Martin M. Smiciklas

The White Nigga is a fictional novel in which the story takes place in Sweden, a country where M a refugee boy ends up in the 1960s. Sweden is at the time famous worldwide for its inhabitants' humanism, tolerance and friendliness. But in reality it was different for M. Because of M was, unlike the blonde Swedish children, dark-haired and a foreigner. A difference that made him to be and to be called a nigga. M the despised foreigner and nigga was, therefore, not accepted by others than those who were socially excluded. He ends up among the outcasts as junkies, whores, criminals, and all kinds of them in the bottom of the Swedish society.

We will follow M in his thrilling life full of violence, crime, death, sex, drugs and other things that belongs to the quarters of the outcasts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books on Demand
• Release date: Apr 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9789177859062

Martin M. Smiciklas

After a professional life as a university teacher and researcher began Martin M. Smiciklas to write fiction novels. His style is provocative and ironical with a touch of making the unbearable to something that we can laugh at. Without hesitation, he describes the life, death, love, and others that is a necessary part of humanity. All with the same ironically generalization and sweeping humorous perspective.

Book preview

United Nations

Universal Declaration of Human Rights

Article 1

All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.

The cover photo. A twisted town.

Contents

To shit on the Iron Curtain border

The Stairs

The Wise Shepherd

How to handle a virgin

How to handle a nigga

Oreum’s history

The drug party

The New Years party

A nigga in a fancy party

Gang bang

Pub Seventy-Five

A youth center, for whom?

Young death

Motorized youngsters

Rockers and greasers

Gang war

Walking the line

The Vietnam War at the school

The red teacher

A drug-dealer is always a nigga

Strindberg, the great author

Teachers hit

March to the left

Revolutionary Communist Parties

The upper-crust communists

The American dream

The less adventurous SSU

Rosalia the beauty

Money for free

Apartment almost at his own

Chased by the police

Class journey

A classy birthday party

Horny men’s business

The law is always fair

The legal gang master

The state-sponsored Mr Hyde

The entrance to death

The rational death

The omniscient father

Appendix

1. To shit on the Iron Curtain border

In the evening three shadows moved in the bushes. It was somewhere near the border that separated the people behind the iron‐curtain from the free world. The shadows flickered in the moonlight, like lost souls who was searching for their eternal peace. But the shadows did not belong to the dead yet. They belonged to three living scared people who were on their way through a minefield to an unknown fate.

It was in the springtime, the same year as John Fitzgerald Jack Kennedy became the 35th president of the United States. Maybe it was a big event in the free world. But it was nothing the three in the bush cared about or even knew had happened.

The moonlight gave guiding light to Mom, her eight-year-old son M, and the bleary eyed man. An odd company that moved with caution, but determination towards the border and their freedom. M could see the asphalt road that led to Italy, the country they were heading to. Those days Italy was a part of the free world. Italy had at that time during decades received and welcomed many oppressed refugees from Yugoslavia. To become among them was the three in the bush.

M, Mom, and Bleary had left Kernei two days previously. It is a small town near the Hungarian border in the duchy of Vojvodina. A God damned hole that had lost its citizens for several times in the history. The Illyrians, Romans, Serbians, and others had been uprooted from Kernei by evil invaders many centuries ago. Last time the citizens of Kernei had to flee was after the World War II. A genocide when all Germans and Hungarians was uprooted from their land and homes in Kernei. The lucky ones who did not get killed or imprisoned in Sovjetunion’s Gulag fled to the free world in the West. Now it was M and his mom’s turn to flee from their home and join the fate of Kernei.

The odd company were close to the Italian border. Their journey’s end was to be the town Trieste, a city many people had visited as tourists. On a closer look it was obvious that the haggard and badly dressed pitiful people were no tourists. M and his Mom were on the run from poverty, oppression, and injustice in the communist country of Yugoslavia, a country that was the Paradise according to the communist propaganda. For some it was, but it had not been that for the three. They were about to leave the Paradise to find a better life in the alleged Hell in the West.

Mom and Bleary were poor farmers, far away from their homes which they had left two days earlier. The journey started by train for 300 miles, after that fifty miles by bus, and the last ten miles on foot. All three wore such clothes farmers and poor people had at that time in these areas. Clothes made of coarse fabrics, not silk, nylon, or other luxury materials that at the time wealthy people wore. Mom was wearing a skirt, something that was befitting a women at this time. It was inappropriate for a woman to wear a male garment like pants, a garment that would have made it easier for her, to walk in the grubby and stony terrain.

Bleary was an acquaintance who wanted to escape to the freedom in West and thus save his life. He was doomed to die in the paradise country he was about to leave. No court, but the poverty and TBC had doomed him to die. He coughed heavily, and he was actually so weak that it was a wonder that he was able to go the hard march he was on. He should have been hospitalized, in a human society and the world, and received the care a human being deserves. But as he was an unimportant farmer who was not even a member of the Communist Party, there was no help for him to be given in Yugoslavia. His dream and the reason why he was on the run was that he nurtured the hope to be healed on the other side of the border.

The little boy M was, if not in a worse condition, in an equally bad one. He had barely survived an open-heart surgery three months previously. The fact that he was alive was a wonder, even bigger than the fact that the three thus far were in the bush and not in jail. The surgery was done in a country that did not have the medical knowledge or equipment that was required for such an extensive operation. Nevertheless, he had survived and now he was walking in the bush to meet an uncertain future. He too should have been somewhere else, not in the darkness surrounded by armed border guards ordered to shoot to kill.

M was heavily panting and gasping for breath by the exhausting march, a gasping accompanied by Bleary’s coughing which he tried to hold down because he was afraid that his coughing could be heard by the border patrols.

Mom, can’t we rest? begged M. Only for a moment. Please, Mom!

It’s not far away, she whispered comfortingly. Try to walk just a bit further.

These miserable poor losers in life who had all odds against them had given themselves a mission to flee to the free world. An escape that any moment could lead to their death.

Bleary had commented before, "What a heck, I may as well be shot by a bullet to death as die of the goddamn TBC."

Still alive, he, Mom, and M walked in the rocky terrain.

In the darkness M could smell the night’s moisture, a smell that was blended with the peculiar scent of pine trees. He stopped and took a deep breath to smell the nature. A fume that reminded him of the mountains in Pannonia filled his nose. Mountains where his granny lived and where he had spent most of his young life. He felt, as the creature of the nature he was, that he belonged to the place where his ancestors had lived. He already ached for his home and his homeland, but most he longed for Granny. What if he never saw her again? But he comforted himself with the relief that Mom was with him. The most important to him was after all that he was with his mom.

He stood to breathe in his thoughts for a while. During that time the adults had moved on a bit further, and they were almost invisible to him in the darkness. Panicked to lose Mom too, he hurried to catch up to her. Alongside her, he tried with his small spindly legs to keep up with her as well as he could.

After a while, he cried, Mom, are we gonna get there soon?

She replied, It’s not far away; we’ll be there soon.

It was near midnight. M and the others had been on their way in the rough terrain since dusk. A terrain that was rocky, hilly and covered with grass and all kinds of shrubs. The vegetation stung and hurt M. This, and as he and the others were tired, thirsty, and hungry, had made the last hours hard for them.

Mom, I’m hungry! sniveled M.

We’ll soon get something to eat. Please, honey, have patience.

But Mom, I’m hungry and tired. I can’t go further.

Just a bit more. Please, please! She tried with tearful eyes to get her son to struggle just a little more.

M pulled himself together after his mother’s appeals, and he tried to keep struggling further. Mom too was tired and hungry. But she did not want to show this to him. The march in the darkness had been more strenuous and harder than she had imagined back home in Kernei. She had fallen, risen, fallen again to raise and struggle ahead in the dark. They went on stumbling for a short while. Thereafter, M began to nag again.

He sat on the ground crying, Mom, I’m tired. I can’t walk anymore, and he refused to stand up again.

Please, please just a bit further, begged Mom.

But M refused to move on. He sat on the ground and cried. Mom tried, in all possible ways, to convince M that they have to go on. Her begging, which became increasingly despaired, got him finally to rise and go on in the darkness.

After a while, M began to nag again, Mom, I want something to eat.

She stopped walking to search in the bag she was wearing.

When finished, she said, Here, it’s the last bread we have, while she stretched forth her hand with a piece of bread. Eat and please be quiet!

M ate the dry bread with some effort, chewed and swallowed, and said, Mom, I want something to drink.

Again she looked in the bag, this time to fetch the bottle of water she was carrying on. From the beginning she had some bread, apples, water and she had extra clothes too, in case it would be cold at night in the mountains. There was no room for more in the bag. In any case it would have been too heavy to carry things that were unnecessary.

She handed the bottle to M, and said, It’s the last water we have, sonny, so don’t waste it.

M held the bottle carefully so as to not spill it. He drank the water and gave the empty bottle back to Mom, who threw it into the bush. The empty bottle was a worthless burden she did not want to carry. They began walking again.

It did not take long before M said, Mom, I’m tired. I can’t walk anymore, and he sat to refuse to go on.

Please, please just a bit further, begged Mom.

To help, Bleary said, Hang on, son! We’ll soon be there.

But nothing they said helped to give M more courage. He was dizzy, tired, still hungry and thirsty. And even if he wished, he was not able to walk anymore. He, the sick and exhausted child, sat without saying anything on a stone and gasped heavily.

I can carry him, said Bleary.

No, no, I’ll carry him, answered Mom.

She would rather carry M herself than let Bleary do it, even if she was exhausted. All because she was frightened that Bleary would infect M with his disease. M had received strict orders from Mom not to go close to Bleary.

As Mom had said, You are sick enough, and you don’t need to get TBC on top of that.

M sat and the others stood still, something that made the situation serious. They had to move on. The adults tried again to persuade him to get up. But this time it did not work. He was definitely too tired to walk on. Nothing remained to Mom than to take him on her back. With limped steps, she carried her son towards the better life she thought they would have.

A car! shouted Bleary in a whisper, and he commanded, Lie down!

Mom and M obeyed immediately. That was easy for them because they were so scared that their legs refused to bear them. The refugees lay like frightened rabbits on the ground to avoid getting caught. Once the car’s lights was out of sight, they continued stumbling forward to cross the border.

Under normal conditions it would have been more natural for them to walk on the nearby road. But they were not in a normal situation. They were on the run, and every car or human on their way was a danger to them. Along the border moved military, police, and border guards, some in uniform, others in civilian clothes. Everyone had the order to seize refugees, and hence a potential threat to those on the run. Some civilians were residents in the borderland. They were thus allowed to be there. But even they were not trusted by the refugees. Those civilians were instead trusted by the government. If they had gotten sight of the refugees, they would for sure report it to the police.

It was not only these dangers the refugees had to fear. The terrain where they were at was mined and dangerous ground. There were several kinds of mines. One was exploding mines and another one sent a flare that illuminated the area, lighting that was to be seen by the border guards. And if the armed border guards saw a flare, they would certainly search the area.

The refugees knew that the paved road to Trieste and the area beside were not mined. They were safe as long as they stuck close to the road. They had followed it since they got off the bus in the small town Divaca in Yugoslavia. But they did not walk on the road. If they had done so, they would be easily seen and an easy catch for the guards. Thus, they had chosen the hard way through the bush. A way that was, despite the mines and the rougher terrain, less dangerous to them than the paved road.

They were scared to death of being blown up by a mine, but they were more afraid of the border guards. They had reason to fear the soldiers, policemen, and watchdogs that guarded the border because if they were discovered they could be killed. The borderland was crowded with armed guardians, young men who did not guard the border against invaders, but against those who tried to escape from the alleged free country of Yugoslavia. And they were entitled to shoot anyone on sight who was bold enough to try to leave the paradise behind the iron curtain. If M and his companions were not shot in the event of their capture, they would certainly end up in prison.

M was terrified that Mom would be imprisoned. In such case, he could be separated from her. Mom had mentioned on one occasion, at home in Kernei, that women could be imprisoned. At the time he did not understand why she had said this.

As he recalled the situation now, he had asked her, Mom, are you going to prison?

But she had calmed him by replying, No! No! I’m only talking about it.

But Mom, what will happen to me if you go to prison?

No, I’m not going to prison! But if, I say if it happens, you would for sure stay with me.

In prison?

Yes, there are special prisons for women, where they may have their children with them.

M understood now in the bush why Mom had spoken about the prison. The thought scared him again because he did not want Mom and him to be imprisoned. After a while they went on walking.

Mom still carried on M when Bleary shouted, Watch out for the string!

He had at the last moment, just before he touched it, seen the wire that was strung between two bushes, a wire that was surely connected to a mine. Lucky for them Bleary had stopped before he touched the wire! All them were scared and Mom was on the verge of tears. She had put M down, and she and M sat down on the ground. M got up close to her and he felt her heavy breathing and shaking, an overly familiar feeling he had experienced countless times in Kernei. Times when Mom had been crying over M’s dad.

Sitting stiffly, she accused herself, mumbling, What have I done? What are we doing here? while she was crying her eyes out.

M sat with his eyes filled with tears and wished his mother would stop weeping. It did not matter what happened. If she just stopped crying, everything would be fine.

To comfort her he said, Mom, I’ll walk by myself, but please don’t cry. Don’t cry, Mom!

After a while Mom calmed down, and they moved on. M stumbled and struggled while heavily gasping for air to hung on the to him to fast pace. They had to cross the border before dawn. If not, they would have to spend the whole next day hiding in the bush.

Are we almost there? sniveled M.

Swish, bang!

The blast and