svenska

"If the word is the world, literature is life".

This is Azerbaijani author Vugar Guliyev's motto. During the summer and autumn of 2011, the Göteborg Book Fair will regularly publish his short stories and chronicles on our website. Without namens is his second novel, a true talk of refugees fleeing from either political persecution or widespread corruption.

A contemporary utopia

(A slightly exaggerated true story picturing unimaginable conditions for life)

Perhaps everybody was able to feel the kindness that nature displayed to Gothenburg that day. One would have probably noticed that the sun seemed to have decided to care less about all the surrounding cities, and maybe even countries, by shining right over the monument to Gustaf II Adolf. However, there still were some people, who carried either umbrellas or raincoats. One

"Never rely on weather in this city", thought Teacher sitting on the plinth stairs to the monument. He kept casting glances around hoping to see any of his countrymen. "I don't think they'll come," he sighed and looked at his watch.

"I don't think he'll come," Teacher heard the well known voice of his countryman from behind and rose to his feet to greet him.

"Do you always appear invisibly?" asked Teacher.

"Not invisibly. Just late. And I know it's not good," said Translator.

"Whatever. But you've just put into words the thought I had in my mind. Are you a mind reader?"

"No. I just saw you look at your watch. You must have been waiting long. And if the old man is later than I am, he'll probably not come".

"I wonder what's wrong with him," Teacher straightened himself, stretched out his arms wide and yawned.

"Are you cold or what?" asked Translator and lit a cigarette.

"Rather tired. It's a sin to catch a cold in such beautiful weather. Any news on your residency status?"

"No," said Translator hastily and added, "…and as far as I can see, there is nothing expected in the near future."

"And how is the family? Your kid? Has he found any friends yet?"

"He's been very sick lately. We took him to a doctor and…"

"…and I am pretty sure that I can tell what happened next," interjected Teacher hastily. "Well, the slogan of the health care system in this country, I guess, would sound like "With no treatment we won't let you die unless you have to"," he continued and sat down again on the same place.

"Why don't you replace the "no treating" part with "Alvedon and Ibuprofen"," suggested Translator with such an enthusiasm as if it would revolutionize the system at its core and be of help to his child.

"I hope that your kid's immune system will help him overcome whatever he's got."

"Sure it will, Teacher. It's just a matter of time and the amount of nerve cells we, as parents, are obliged to waste taking care of him."

"And I hope Academic isn't taking the medicines you've mentioned," added Teacher and looked at the sky.

"But doctors here seem to be educated enough not to let you die. My neighbor, an old man from the third floor, was telling me about how perfectly they had performed the surgery on his heart and…"

"That is true, boy. But you've got to be strong enough to survive before they actually do something practical."

"Our old man looked strong when we saw him last time," said Translator placing himself next to Teacher. "By the way, how is your Swedish now?"

"Like today's weather," answered Teacher pointing at the dark clouds frighteningly covering their surroundings. "I speak and understand this language in the mornings and feel a complete dumb at it in the evenings."

"There he is!" said Translator loudly. He immediately stood up and began widely waving at Academic. The old man looked perplexed among the people running around in search for a shelter.

"Let's go and pull him into the bus-stop shelter before the weather has forced him to learn the slogan of the local health care."

While the countrymen were running to Academic, he looked up at the sky, turned around, saw his friends approaching and gestured them to the bus stop.

"Didn't you find anything else to bring us with yourself?" asked Teacher stretching out his hand to greet Academic. He heard no answer. Academic just silently shook Teacher's hand and kept heading for the bus-stop. He wanted to reach the shelter before the rain had started galloping in the streets.

The countrymen somehow managed to squeeze themselves into the shelter full of people feeling fooled by the whim of nature.

"Are you having any problems, dear Academic?" asked Translator.

"Why do you think so? Am I looking anxious?"

"Very much. Otherwise the weather wouldn't have decided to cool you down with its autumnal rain. The whole city has become wet because of you," said Translator seriously.

"I can see that Bernard Shaw was right saying that when a thing is funny, search it carefully for a hidden truth," sighed Academic.

"What is the matter, old man?" asked Teacher. His smile disappeared and eyes squinted.

"Translator is right. I have a problem. I have felt sorry lately for leaving our country forever."

"Are you hot? I mean… do you have a temperature?" asked Translator looking at Teacher interrogatively.

"Not at all. I am fine. I just heard some news, which made me feel stupid. On the other hand, I can't believe that such a thing can happen."

"What exactly are you talking about?" asked Teacher.

"Well, there is a new decree that has made me feel happy. Every elderly person over ninety five years old will get a pension of nine hundred euro. All their prior contributions to the society are not taken into consideration."

"What?" asked Translator making the shower escapers wince in the bus stop shelter. "You can dig up the maximum of three or four people at that age from all over the country."

"Who told you that news?" Teacher continued the conversation calmly to let everyone know that nothing extraordinary had happened.

"An ex-colleague of mine. His son works for the government. He can't be mistaken."

"I surely bet that this decree has an evil behind it," said Translator and held his head. "Each time the government successfully proves that its depravity has no limits."

"And what do you mean?" said Teacher.

"Do you know many people at that age? I bet you can count them on the fingers of your one hand. People in our country usually die at the ages of sixty five – seventy. It's impossible to survive under that pressure. Ask me, I know. Three of my friends died of heart attacks even before having turned thirty."

"What if your ex-colleague decided to play a joke?" asked Teacher with full concentration, "because what Translator is saying sounds more believable than what your friend told you."

"Out of question. You think I'm an idiot? Don't I know how to choose friends?" said Academic being very annoyed.

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm just…"

"Stop it then," Academic insisted angrily. "Don't you understand? It's our country. It's our nation. I just want to believe that something good, I mean really good, has started happening there."

"I've lost that hope long ago," said Translator very quietly as if he had admitted some guilt.

"See, this is the problem. I know you are young and quite reckless and…"

"Hold on a second," Teacher interrupted the old man. "Dear man, please tell us what exactly you have heard. Right you are, we are all here fleeing that increasing power of evil. But what if this is true? It could be something worthy for elderly people to live for."

"Just think of the age factor," continued Translator impatiently. "To live that long, our nation needs at least seven or more generations to get rid of the stress and increasing debility. It's already in our blood. Look at that old man over there. He looks quite happy and certain about his tomorrow. No matter how much money you are getting here, dear Academic, you will never look like that man," sighed Translator. His face reddened. "It's nothing more than trying to fool the whole world and show that our government is caring and loving."

"There you go, boy," said Academic. "You see, my friend told me almost the same thing. He said that he thinks it is some kind of a campaign to earn credits worldwide. And you know what is funny about all he said?" smiled Academic, "He decided to apply for this pension."

"How old is he?" asked Teacher and his face went truly radiant with surprise.

"He'll turn sixty five next year," Academic started laughing.

"But how the hell will he…"

"He looks much older," said Academic before Translator had finished his question.

"But that is not enough to make it happen," commented Teacher.

"That's true. But money will make it enough", said Academic quietly.

"Excuse me, dear Academic," Translator lifted his hand, "not "money", bribes."

"I hate even to pronounce that damned word. To me it's the same as the name of devil," said Academic with strong contempt.

"His attempt is certainly worth it," said Teacher and asked "But can he afford to pay all bribes?"

"His son has supported him, of course. Otherwise, he would never have been able to afford it by himself. And even after his son has used all his contacts, yesterday, it took him awhile to tell me about who he had bribed."

"I can imagine," sighed Translator.

"This time, I feel it's beyond your imagination," said Teacher.

"That could be, yeah. Cause it depends on who the man approached," agreed Translator intensely squeezing and stretching the skin on his forehead with his fingers.

"Well, besides the common bribes to receive legally demanded documents, he also paid tons of money to have his ID cards and passport changed. This is the most interesting part you see, first he paid to have his documents registered as lost ones. And secondly, extra money to get new documents with the information he needed. Almost the same he did for his certificates and diplomas."

"And what about his family members? His wife and children?" asked Translator with a facial expression as if it were frozen and pale.

"They have been through the same procedure. You see, he has gone even further," continued Academic. "After he changed all the documents for his daughter, he placed her in a geriatric hospital. Except for his son, of course. He is widely known for his position in the government."

"Just to get that god-damned pension, he has been through all that crap? And now his daughter is taken care of as if she were an old lady?" asked Translator irritated.

"Then you know nothing about money, son" said Academic.

"Or about the life in our country," added Teacher. "The situation there is getting worse day by day. You can't even imagine how fast it is happening. Most people risk losing their job every day. And as a result, they worship that government to get some money that is enough only to crawl."

"Ok!" agreed Translator, "let's think that I am stupid or… young, let's say. But why do you want to get back there, honorable Academic?"

Academic became silent. He covered his face with his hands and rubbed it until it became red. Then he moved his hands up, towards the top of his head. He seemed to take off that invisible cap of temptation, which had clouded his judgment.

"You see dear friends, I have always kept that gleam of hope in my heart that one day, our government will at least take the slightest good care of its citizens. My heart believes my ex-colleague, as he has cherished my hope not knowing that himself. But my mind, did not," answered Academic with sadness. "I haven't lost that hope yet," he added silently.

"When is he going to get his pension then?" asked Teacher with an intonation trying to shake off Academic's depression.

"He was supposed to get it today and promised he would call. I am feeling impatient to congratulate him."

"How long did it take him to make all the documents ready for this fairy-tale pension?" said Translator.

"Maybe, two weeks or so. Last time, I remember, he said that the coming two weeks would be very hectic and frantic."

"If it's so, why don't you call him up?" said Teacher. "Why not hear some good news earlier?"

Academic put his glasses on, took his mobile phone from his hip pocket and dialed the number. He hands became shaky all of sudden. Teacher and Translator waited in silence. And while audible beeps kept coming from the phone, they both noticed Academic diminish in size and become pale. The gleam of hope that he had mentioned was gone.

Academic's "Hello" sounded like a drowning man's last cry from the bottom of a well.

"It's Academic, son. Can I talk with your dad?" continued Academic with a fake smile on his face. And in some seconds the old man's face was nothing short of a seal of death. Teacher and translator both fidgeted and looked at each other. Academic stood up, stepped out of the sheltered bus station, took a deep breath and put his hand on the chest over his heart. Soon he returned and took his seat again.

"My friend died?" said Academic. "They killed him."

"Did they shoot him?" asked Translator right away.

"They tortured him to death by making him wait."

"What happened?" said Teacher.

"The old man felt uneasy about all those troubles that he had caused his son. He thought that it would take him ages to pay back his debts. And when he went to get his pension, he was told that damned decree would be in force starting next year. His heart gave up. He went to bed and didn't wake up. "

"Two years ago, a friend of mine told me that it is possible to govern a country through a lie for more than fifteen years only on one condition – by changing a lie when it's needed," said Teacher and seemed to follow Academic and Translator into an invisible precipice which had the name of their country.

An unpleasant screech of brakes forcefully pulled them out of the abyss they were falling into. A bus pulled over right in front of them. Three short queues formed at the bus doors.

"The sun is shining again," said Translator. "Look,Academic! The sun is back again."

Academic said nothing. He was silently squeezing and rubbing his chest as if he was trying to touch his heart.

"Don't worry, old man. I am sure there will be times when we go back to our motherland and dance on the tombs of those who have tortured the nation," said Teacher. He approached Academic seeming ready to take care of him. "Take it easy."

"And then you can go back to your prison to educate them," added Translator.

"Iamnotworried, atall. I just feel sorry for my friend," spoke Academic slowly.

"By the way Academic, do you trust your friends?" asked Translator.

"Well, I don't have many. I have got only you now. What do you mean?"

"Since the sun is shining and it's stopped showering, would you come out?" said Translator.

Academic followed Translator and Teacher as they stepped out of the shelter.

"Now if you trust us, turn around and tell me what you can see," continued Translator.

"People, wet ground, kissing couples, wet benches. Why are you asking me this stupid question?"

"Because that green statue shows us where to stay. Believe him, Academic," continued Translator, "He is a very wise man. And he also knows that if government authorities in our country reddened after receiving a box of chocolate many years ago, these days they are feeling proud of receiving money to build villas with pools for sharks and other kinds of fish."

Academic was listening quietly.

"If I were you I would pay attention to our common friend – that green body. He is the one who made us friends."

Teacher laughed and that very sincere and friendly smile shone on Academics face again.

A novel: without names

By the end of their lives great people have a lot of interesting stories to tell, but as the time goes by statues of them have at least several times as many. And the sad truth is that nobody will ever hear as much from these monuments as from that of Gustaf II Adolf in Gothenburg, which became a witness to an unexpected meeting of countrymen some time ago. Therefore the question of whether one would laugh at how they met or weep over hearing what had happened to them will remain unanswered to the end of days.

A grey-haired man in his seventies with a slow firm tread and a solid figure would have never dreamt about wandering in the streets of Sweden many years after the day when his country became independent.

Fiddling with his thirteen-stone bead set, a gift from his co-prisoners, he approached and comfortably seated himself on the plinth stairs to the monument and became interested in what was happening around.

Before long, he would have probably started yawning if he hadn't noticed a man show up from the right. It was a tall, middle-aged, and well-dressed man. Gazing at a brochure in his hands, the man confidently continued walking along the pavement.

"What the heck is he doing here?" thought the man to himself on the monument-base. "Could that be him? But he doesn't look like… No, that's not him. He would never touch any brochure. And he is certainly from my country… if not from the city of my past."

The tall man crossed the street, approaching the sheltered bus stop in front of the monument when the grey-haired man simultaneously wished he were able to use his glance as a fishhook to pull him back. At the bus stop the man suddenly began to fumble in his pockets for something.

"Looking for the keys?" called out the man sitting motionlessly on the plinth.
"Not exactly… I guess for you," answered the tall man with a surprised smile on his face turning around to see where the question had come from.

"I don't think I can fit in your pockets," merrily exclaimed the old-timer coming downstairs to greet him. "I am Academic and hope I haven't offended you," he said extending his hand out to the man.

"Not any more than I did. I am…"

"Professor?" inserted Academic hastily, shaking his counterpart's hand.

"Not exactly. I used to work as a secondary school teacher."

"OK, "Teacher". No names."

"Why is that?"

"Perhaps, soon you'll get that yourself. Frankly speaking I was surprised by the way you answered my question about the keys" said Academic. I was expecting something like…"

"…the key to the house where the money is…." They both heard the voice of a young lad from behind and turned around in wonder.

"And who the hell are you? Where do YOU come from?" asked Academic hardly overcoming his angst for being suddenly interrupted by a handsome fellow with thick optical glasses displaying the glint of intelligence in his eyes.

"I suppose you can figure that out very easily since I used a once widely popular expression. Not many people in our country know this expression these days. Not everyone reads classical books... I am… "Translator", since you're not mentioning your names."

"You are a lucky bastard," said Academic a bit aggressively, but couldn't resist smiling at Translator's face. "If you had happened to turn up in the same cell as me, you would have learnt how…"

"Maybe," inserted Translator interrupting Academic again. "But if only you could have "educated" all today's corrupted bureaucrats in your prison cell, we wouldn't have ended up here."

"Right you are, boy" said Academic grimly and then patted him on the shoulder.

"So, you are an ex-prisoner" said Teacher.

"Yeah! And that's how I earned my nickname." Academic turned toward the monument and gestured the way towards where he had been sitting before he met his new acquaintances. They both followed him.

"How come you dare start talking so openly with someone you don't know?" asked Academic looking at Translator.

"You remind me of my late grandfather. He was a wise and morally sound taxi driver. And since imbecility became a fashion in our country, people of your origin and generation are nothing more than worthless bags of bones."

"I also worked as a taxi driver" said Academic.

"Was that before you went to prison?" abruptly asked Teacher.

"Yes," answered Academic very sadly. "Once I had two passengers. Two tall men like you. After I drove them to the place they wanted, which was quite far from the city, they attacked me for the money I had. So I took the crowbar I had always kept in the car… A few minutes later the muggers were dead."

"Did the police arrest you right after?"

"They didn't find me. I myself went to the police. I could have avoided them. There were no witnesses around. I had brains and enough experience to mislead the police. But my conscience wouldn't have let me live in peace. When I was little, my father made me read a lot. He taught me a lot about life."

"If so, why didn't you get an education? It was free at that time."

"Indeed it was, Teacher, but only officially. I, so to say, failed the admission exams because my family had no money to pay bribes. My father had already passed away."

"What did you do after your release?" asked Translator.

"I went back to the same prison. My destiny had it. I returned home a week early, I found an ugly man in my bed with my wife. You see, that was the moment when I no longer cared about my wife's cheating on me. The problem was that man. The cheeky bastard showed no sign of regret or embarrassment. His attitude and behavior made me lose my control. That morning I didn't know that that evening I would turn up in the same cell."

"Is that how you became "Academic"?" Teacher continued the conversation.
"I learned the unwritten laws of dignity and pride in the world of crime. But I'm not a killer" slowly said Academic with a desire to be remembered for the rest of his life. "A dead man is always guilty of his own death. In prison I educated a lot of lost and unruly kids. I had to do what the government should have done at that time. Hell!" said Academic with contempt. "These days a person, having turned up in prisons by some mistake or due to some order, becomes an extremely hardened criminal prior to his release. Imagine the quality of society in some ten or twelve years! Amnesties, especially before every governmental election, are mainly granted to those who have already sold their souls and pride for money…"

"Are you planning to stay here?" asked Translator.

"Of course. In my country I have nowhere to go. My second wife died and our daughter got married to a countryman who has a job here. And besides, I feel lonely in our country. All my good friends passed away a few years ago. For the government, moral principles and standards are now being successfully demolished. So, here I am."

"That's the unfortunate truth," Teacher, looking depressed, nodded in agreement. "I guess that's the only way to direct and manage millions of slaves. And I am one of those who have understood this. That's why I am here like you both."

"You were a teacher. You were one of them. Why the hell did you disagree with them? Didn't you have everything?" said Academic and started fiddling with his bead set hastily, making its pieces click with pleasing sounds.

"You are right, dear friend. I was a part of that destruction system. But it's impossible for an ordinary citizen to imagine how torturous it is to be a part of it if you're a person who has some pride, or any shred of conscience."
"I think I can imagine what you are talking about" Translator said in support of the flow of the conversation. "The educational system had already fallen to pieces when I was studying. I am sure it has gotten worse by now. I am so terrified for the future of the people who are still in our country."

"Not people. Slaves. And my family is still there. I thought that we'd become independent of the old ruling system, not knowing that it was only a change of the godfather."

"And why did you leave?" asked Academic looking pensive and serious.

"Cause they pushed me to pay more than sixty percent of my income that I had from some private teaching. You see, I had to work as a tutor to make my living. With so-called increasing official salaries my family and I couldn't survive even a week."

"What did you teach?" asked Translator.

"Physics," said Teacher. "And I came here almost six months ago on an employment contract. In this country, my cousin owns a construction company. But it's just the official side of existence. In reality I am doing language courses. Trying to learn the local language and survive. As a matter of fact, I am unemployed."

"I wonder when peace and prosperity will come to our land?" Academic sighed deeply.

"When the natural resources are over," Translator hastily assured. "I have been praying that this will happen soon. The sooner the natural resources run out, the sooner the nation's rebirth will begin."

"That's true. But by the time the natural resources are finished, the slavery will have reached its peak," added Teacher, "and it'll be a lot easier to manage an uneducated nation."

"That's why I've been praying for it," responded Translator. "And such madness is taking place not only in our country. The situation in neighboring countries is a lot worse. That's why I am here."

"What do you mean?" asked Academic, looking completely puzzled.

"I worked for a private language teaching and translation company. Once, the administration received a tape with a recorded conversation. One of my colleagues, a close friend of mine, was given that record for translation. He was supposed to translate and type the conversation on the computer in our language… He did that, and some hours later… was killed," Translator hung his head in helplessness.

"Why? And what did it have to do with you?" said Teacher.

"It was an interview with someone questioned about the personal life of one of the presidents' in Central Asia. If everything that was on the tape were filmed by any Hollywood director, he would receive an Oscar and make a fortune." Translator answered very quickly, looked at their opponents' eyes and quietly added, "I helped him. I know what was there."

"Who was it about?" Teacher asked impatiently.

"You don't want to risk your life, do you?" smiled Translator and lit a cigarette.

"Didn't you go to the police for help?" Teacher asked.
Academic gave a snort of disgust.

"Our government doesn't give a damn about us citizens. The police officers would have been first to set me up for some amount of money. Now, I must survive. When I came here, I was placed in the North. I could have probably made it. But not my wife and son. It was too cold for them. So here I am… looking for fresh and unspoiled representatives of my country. By the way, how come you both came here? Did you make any appointment or..?"

"I moved into this city a week ago. Today is the anniversary day of our independence and since I don't know many countrymen I thought that coming to the city center would be a nice idea," explained Academic with a kind smile on his face, which uncovered the untouched and shining gist of his soul he has been protecting since he was born.

"Frankly speaking, I wanted to go home. Some thirty minutes ago I was in the city history museum. And when I began looking for my monthly bus card, Mr. Academic called me. His language and accent made me happy to respond, and with pleasure," said Teacher.

"Well, the only reason for my coming here is that I miss the favorite street of my childhood city. I really do," added Translator with trembling voice, "and when I heard the talk in the language I was brought up and educated in, I couldn't help joining you."

"Academic, why did you choose exactly this place to sit and..?" asked Teacher.
"When I was hanging around, I came across this green metallic guy," said Academic pointing at the statue, "who not only greeted me, but also showed me a place to sit. I immediately understood that this guy was a very good friend of ex-prisoners when he was alive," said Academic with difficulty as he started shaking in laughter with all his body by the end of his talk.

And the laughter of both men, following Academic's, seemed to shake the whole square in which people weren't paying any attention, whereas such laughter for all three countrymen was quite rare since they had left their motherland under, softly speaking, unpleasant circumstances.

"Why don't we call each other by our names?" suggested Translator. "I guess that would be a lot nicer."

"I know why we don't," inserted Teacher.

"I know that you know, Teacher," said Academic, "but let me explain it to the young man."

"Please go ahead," agreed Teacher.

"People usually call each other by names. In our cases the names will activate our, most probably, unpleasant memories. But if one wants to start all over again, he could use his nickname, showing the nature of his soul. You are Translator, what most probably means you can adapt. He is Teacher, which means he is a very good analyst. And my nickname reminds me of the power that I use to survive and remain law-abiding."

As Academic's talk made Translator and Teacher look pensive and very concerned, none of them noticed how storm clouds had darkened the city. Chilly gusts of wind, coming from all sides, began emptying the streets, parks and the square. By gradually becoming stronger, rain drops warned everyone about the seriousness of the coming shower. But there were still some unruly people displaying resistance to an unexpected change of weather by putting on their raincoats and opening umbrellas.

"I think that the weather in this country isn't used to hearing rough speeches and talks. It gets emotional right away," said Academic looking at the sky.

"Here they are! Our countrymen! Look!" said Teacher pointing at a crowd of happily marching people chanting "In-de-pen-dence!". Following a large flag waving in the wind the crowd was approaching the far end of the park on the left side of the monument.

"Shall we join them?" said Translator.

"It would be nice to. But by the time we get closer to them, it'll be showering," said Academic and rose up. "I guess we'd better go home now. See you here next week."

"You are right, Academic" said Teacher and got up shaking a little from the cold.

"I think we'll join them next year."

"Hopefully when our nation will indeed be free," added Translator and shook the hands of his chuckling countrymen."

A few minutes later, the monument was left standing all alone in the wet and emptied square, while people with late reactions were cramped in the bus shelter.

The end