NOBODY NEVER NOWHERE by LINDA-MARI VÄLI, 3
Translated by Martin Luiga, edited by Marcia Allass
That first „raid” of ours, as Tõnn jokingly called it, was enough for us for weeks, but it didn’t remain the last one — our entire future lifestyle became integrated with such „raids”, and as we were constantly toiling with the house, then we inevitably also needed stolen stuff to fix it up. When we were completely out of money, we started „emptying” even large shops of drinks and foodstuffs, and we developed strategies for that too, but I’m not going to dwell on these as it wouldn’t really be fair — towards the future generations of thieves, I mean. Now, you may of course ask me ’ain’t I ashamed?’ and you know, I’m going to be completely honest: absolutely not. Why would I be? We never stuck our fingers into anyone’s pockets or apartments — by god! — we only took from large real estate bozos and corporationists and other such fellows, who only grow their giant shops, developments and businesses in height, width and girth — without sharing one thought about the nature of other people or beings — until the whole of earth will be buried alive under them. If they only could, they’d be building on dead bodies, and they actually do. The fact that we don’t see those bodies doesn’t mean they don’t exist: those bodies remain in the so-called ’developing countries’, slaughterhouses, homes of people that kill themselves — we will not be seeing all that. But I know that these bodies exist and this is why I don’t pity those business bozos at all, but rather think that pheh — serves them right. But actually, they probably don’t even know about us and our little works of havoc — those multi-billionaires — they are just crouching atop of their gold mounds and laughing at all our efforts. But this is in truth not so important; I just don’t want to think of it any longer.
Our time went on and on. Soon April was upon us and then May came closer; the weather was already summery and our house looked better and better. In fear of all kinds of vagrants we even built a fence around it and put a lock on its gate, as Freddy had stealthily pocketed one at some construction supply shop. I think I haven’t told you yet what a great place our aunt-and-unky shack was situated in — at the back of it there were large and ancient stone buildings in a half-arch — factories deserted by workers I think — and in the front huddled another deserted hovel, but in a far worse condition; it was as if our house had crept into some well defended fortress or a neatly hidden courtyard. Our largest — the so-called „living room” — slowly took on a „real-like” look, because we had painted its walls, ceiling and floor in a motley of green, yellow and orange, covered the windows with real glass and even brought furniture in — for example we found two perfectly fine spring mattresses nearby, next to a trash bin, thrown away for some mysterious reason. After washing and beating they became marvelous beds, and in addition Tõnn crafted all kinds of peculiar benches and little tables out of old pieces of boards and plywood. We had worries also, of course — foremost the water one — because although the spring was humid and warm and the giant barrel that had been dragged into the middle of the yard was filled with water to the brim, it was still only good for washing. Thirst forced us to spend both our footsoles and our nerves dragging water from the supermarket toilets with millions of heavy buckets, while always on the lookout that a security guard or some other staff wouldn’t catch sight of us.
In the evenings, when speaking to each other, we dreamt of gardens and electricity — but we would have needed specific knowledge and materials for that: seeds — those kinds of things. And so Freddy, who always knew everyone and was in tune with all the alternative life, invited the ringleaders of another squat into our home. Their Social Center — as they called it themselves — had been running for over a year already and the house was fully fixed: solar panels and a self-made wind generator gathering electricity on the roof, a heating pump warming the rooms during winter and — in some way that we did not understand — even access to water had been created. In a word, a tip-top operation.
I remember that Agnes and all of us were pretty excited that day, as none of us, except maybe Freddy, had spoken to nearly anyone but our gang for two months. We were even a bit afraid of that visit, because Freddy had told us of the strict rules that governed life at the other squat; in his words, a lot of straight edgers lived there and due to that, all kinds of wine’ing, smoking and other ’fun’ was altogether forbidden. We weren’t the greatest drunks in the world either, but all kinds of rules and prohibitions always made us cautious, and that’s why we were worried that some especially harsh and strict types were going to visit us „from the neighboring squat”, as we jokingly called it. Luckily, it became apparent that things weren’t nearly so bad.
Their names were Andreas, Jaanus and Kristel, and I fell in love with them on first sight, especially with Andreas, who was dressed in black from head to foot, had black hair and black round glasses which he never removed although the room was dim — we had no electricity and come nighttime we just constantly burned candles, although we didn’t always have those either. The seven of us sat on the carpet Fred had brought, on the beds and on Tõnn’s benches and drank tea made from blackcurrant leaves; Agnes had brought kilos worth of those leaves from home — back when we escaped — and so we slurped the infusion boiled from them through long days and nights, especially when there was nothing to eat. If we happened to have sugar, then we always added that white and sweet death to the tea in excess, so that it almost became candy.
Although the guests weren’t harsh or strict like we had at first feared, their talk of various dangers still made our toes curl. Or as Andreas said it: „Mean wolves tend to gather around squats.” This kind of talk was new to us, as we knew to fear no one but cops or random drunks, and we didn’t think about them a lot either. So that’s why Andreas’ words had a chilling effect.
„Well, we’ve thought about it a bit,” I said then, „we even built a fence around the house to improve safety.” Andreas gave a sharp nod with his black head so the glasses fell down for a bit and revealed a pair of shining eyes, but then he declared that this is not enough.
„Do you remember what happened in the front of the R. bar a few years ago?”
We nodded mutely — of course we remembered. I was the only one of the gang to stay at home that day — because I didn’t have the money for the concert or something — so I was delving into some book when the phone suddenly started ringing and the next moment I heard Fred’s excited voice next to my ear. It became apparent that I simply must „take my legs out from under my stomach and move my ass in front of R.” That’s where the concert took place which I couldn’t attend, and punks and hippies from all over the country were gathering there. And now, as Freddy was fiercely explaining „the boneheads had blockaded the door to the bar.”
„Get it, Maria? We can’t get out!” His shouting reached me via the electromagnetic waves and it dawned on me immediately that under „us” he meant himself, Tõnn and Agnes; the latter was just a child back then, it was a miracle she was even let in. But Freddy was still shouting: „Get here right away and bring a decent mallet with you, all our friends are on their way and they all have mallets!” I went of course, although without a mallet, because I have — pitifully — always preferred more peaceful measures. But when I got there, the situation had already calmed down; the boneheads were still lurking nearby and staring at the mohawks or other „greasers”, sometimes roaring something unintelligible in that troll language of theirs, but the greater danger had passed. I learned that somebody had still called the cops, even though several anarchists looked down on it because their ideal is complete independence from both our and every other damn state — anyhow, in the end somebody had called them and they did indeed appear, although none too abruptly. Of course none of the boneheads were taken away, but the gathering still dissipated when the coppers arrived. This incident was one of my first exposures to the skinhead jerks, and I realized for the first time that the Estonia of their vision did not like us for some reason. Or was it the other way around? Anyhow — I wouldn’t like to find these kinds of thugs outside my home door, so it left a rather sour taste in my mouth when Andreas started discussing that possibility.
„What went down in front of R. may repeat itself at your own home in a far worse manner, if some skins should catch wind of this.”
„But they won’t,” Agnes squeaked terrifiedly, „we’ve kept everything so-o secret.” And while stretching the so-o she stretched her arms out wide.
„That doesn’t count.” Kristel, who was reclining next to Andreas on the carpet, opened her mouth now, „We always think and hope that all goes well and honestly — I also hope the same with all my heart, but the truth is that if someone takes too much notice of your comings and goings, then the skins might be here soon enough and pronounce justice,” her mouth trembled with disgust there, „pronounce their so-called justice which means — no more or less than beating you out of this house, in the concrete sense.”
That kind of talk made everyone’s mood bad, as we had seen several times ourselves how brutally the giant skinheads „communed” with the likes of us, and although Kristel consoled us that the probability of the squat’s discovery was „less than ten percent,” the fear still persisted.
„By God, we don’t want to make you panic,” said Andreas finally, „we just want you to be ready for such events, just in case, and get yourself some pepper spray or something like that. By the way, I did take some cans while thinking of you; let them be — so-to-say — salt-and-bread.” And the boy took three bundles out of his bag while snickering, throwing the first into my lap, the second into Tõnn’s and the third into Fred’s. Agnes sulked at that of course, but rather modestly.
„The other thing is, you should come up with an emergency exit of some sort.”
„An emergency exit?” Freddy repeated dim-wittedly.
„Exactly,” Andreas assured, „in the case of both cops and boneheads, some sort of a back door or window should be prepared by which one could slip out unnoticed in case it should get too hot inside.”
Freddy nodded thoughtfully and looked at me, his mouth turning into a sad line. It’s true that it was only then when we started thinking about how simple it was for us to lose everything, to lose our entire home. Before, we had joked about these subjects and sometimes even had some more heated discussions, but no one had yet said in full seriousness to either themselves or the others, that: „Listen, it is entirely possible that someone will lift you out of the house without notice and put you in a cell as well to boot — just like that and at any time.” It was the first time we had to admit to ourselves: this house actually belongs to someone else, friends. Despite that we lived in it at the moment, put all our power into fixing it and loved it more and more as our real home, it meant nothing when the house actually belonged to another — although that „other” probably already had a place in which to live in peace. The world sure is a strange place.
When Andreas, Jaanus and Kristel finally got to going home, after the discussions that had taken long hours, there was a sting in my heart and fear gagging my throat that when they leave now, we’ll be completely alone and helpless and whoever may come and reduce us to dust. All of a sudden I felt how young and slight all the four of us were and how many different dudes there were in that dirty capitol that would beat „losers” like us up if they only could. And in a way that the ground would be black from blood. But Andreas consoled us and promised that we would stick together down the line, so despite fear we also had some newfound confidence: knowledge that we were no longer alone in the world and that kindred spirits were living in that very town, on whom we could count, come trouble. And do you know that some time after that visit we also named our home like the „neighboring squat” had done, although you might find it too base and childish, but so what — we liked it though. Our squat was called ‘Utopia’ and we painted it on the house wall in large, white letters so that all possible intruders would know — not just dreamers live here but real dreamers.
At the end of April or in early May — not really sure anymore — a new resident moved in with us, taking their place in our house and gang in an especially meaningful way — by squatting — as if trying to appear even more lovely to us like this. Alas, she was cute beyond measure regardless. It happened on another day full of pouring rain that forced everyone to halt all outside work and to gather in the dry — and now even cozy — embrace of the rooms. I was lying on a bed in the living room with Fred and Tõnn; the other two were staring at the ceiling, I was reading some novel aloud. It was a sleepy type of peace which vanished like some startled animal from the house, because a harsh shriek sounded from the attic and after that a coarse and elephantine trample. Freddy got up on the rumble bravely, but at that moment Agnes appeared in the doorframe, eyes round and wet from fright.
„Imagine this,” she babbled, „I am looking for a nice piece of board, and suddenly I see — a pile, just a pile and nothing else. You know, this is all just too much!” Agnes hid her face into her hands with despair and groaned.
„What kind of pile?” Freddy asked with surprise, while staring towards the stairs with a weird look. „What is it again?”
Agnes just waved off Fred’s question and said nothing, so the three of us went upstairs and tried to find out what had upset our youngest so. It became apparent that someone had „done a little dirt” between the board chunks that had been piled up under the roof, as Tõnn so fittingly expressed it, and after pushing Agnes a bit we learned his general opinion, that the „pile” was a symbol of rats that had moved in. In truth, as we soon learned, some entirely other type of animal had moved in, although she was also wretched and skinny like a rat.
„I’ll catch that rat”,” Tõnn consoled Agnes and climbed all alone into the attic chamber with just a piece of rope and an empty tuna can, in which but a few fish scraps remained. After some time we saw him downstairs again; with a satisfied smile he assured us that he’d practically „got” the „bastard” already. And so it was. After a few hours the „bastard” snuck into the tiny attic chamber through the broken window and prepared to take a nap between the boards when some sweet and savory, one could say — a scent fitting for gourmets — misled her, coaxing her right into a worn, wooden box which appeared completely safe. Lustfully, the intruder followed the call, but her surprise must have been great and terrible when the doorhole of the pleasantly smelling little box turned into a wall all of a sudden, and a great scary thump sounded right next to it. „The bastard” got scared and forgot the fish can completely, trying to use her sharp claws to scrape out a new exit, but already the startling steps sounded from afar and in the next moment we had gathered around her little prison — though Agnes was a bit further away, as she assumed we had caught some rather wicked animal. When Tõnn joyfully exclaimed, „that’s a proper cat!” Agnes’ fear was gone in a single moment and she launched towards the cage as if springshot, her thin lips already curving forward to lisp various namby-pamby phrases.
„It is,” the little girl now said in a singing voice, „what a cutesy kitty-cat!”
The „cutesy kitty-cat” had pressed herself into the farthest corner of the cage and stared at us from there with frozen eyes enormous from fear, mouth a bit ajar and yellow fangs glowing against the background of the pink tongue, as if signaling that the first unscrupulous disturber would feel them in their arm in a sharper way also. Agnes’ sing-song voice was answered with a vague but angry hiss.
„That’s no cutesy kitty-cat,” Freddy whined, „that’s a horrible wild beast. I’m afraid it’s going straight for Agnes’ throat when we let it loose.”
„Won’t, too,” Agnes argued back resentfully, „neither my throat nor any other, though yours might deserve it for that kind of talk.”
„Come on now,” Tõnn tried to calm the others, „I believe that our throats are safe, though our arms might be less so.”
„What are we going to do then?” I inquired. „We can’t keep her in a cage.”
„Keep?” Freddy shouted theatrically while looking at the hissing, bristling kitty-cat as if he’d fallen in love. „Who said anything about keeping? Can’t we barely feed ourselves?!”
Agnes’ cheeks went aflame to that and she stared at the boy angrily.
„You want to throw it back to the street, is that it?” she shrieked. „Just look how skinny and wretched it is! Do you know how many homeless cats there are in Estonia alone? And that’s all because of people like you, who won’t accept the least bit of responsibility.”
„Look at you,” her words got Freddy irritated in turn, „Keep this beast then, if you have an excess of responsibility, but then also sleep with it in the attic, please, because I don’t want my throat to be gnawed through while I’m asleep, thank you very much.” And to answer those last words, which cut the air with that enthusiasm so characteristic of him, an especially mean and raspy hissing sounded from the box so that for one moment everybody froze from fright. But when it became clear that the cat had not grown five times in size but remained a little — albeit a rather mean — kitty, the argument continued with its former intensity. Finally, we decided to try to domesticate the cat at any cost, as it was clearly feral; born on the street and incapable of hoping the least good thing from humans.
The first two days the kitty lived with us, we didn’t raise the lid of her box for a moment; we didn’t even feed her, only pouring water in between the boards into her little tin can. Tõnn had read somewhere that being forceful with feral pets is nothing but good in the beginning, although Agnes was strongly against it to start with, hiding her head anxiously in the pillow when the little cat cried in its prison. You may be surprised that a little cat — and it was truly young, maybe five or six months old — could scare us so, but that would mean you haven’t seen a feral kitten in your lifetime. It was plain to see that the little animal’s life had begun in some manhole, apartment house cellar or just some abandoned shack — the same kind she later picked for her residence; and she had surely been born at a very wrong time — in the rainy and windy end of autumn or even in the early winter. I can only imagine how hard it must have been for her with all those brothers and sisters; whose only crutch in this world was a wretched scrawny cat mother with frozen kidneys, wispy coat and runny eyes. By god — it had to be hard for her, because I have seen for myself how people go by smaller and larger street cats as if they were nothing — they are not far from stepping right on their backs and brains with their heavy boots. After all these tribulations she had finally found a bit cosier nest in a deserted attic chamber which did stink a bit like those nasty, unpredictable and angry human animals, but not very much, so one could finally feel a bit more secure and then, all of a sudden — she was imprisoned, hungry and sad, without any idea of what’s going to happen to her.
When two days had passed we decided unanimously: enough of starving and jailing the poor cat. The kitty had already largely made her peace with both us and her predicament, and stayed in her box rather peacefully, though more intense noise still provoked hissing from that direction. Now, when we all gathered around her prison house and Tõnn started removing its lid carefully, the hissing and cat swearing arose to our ears with all its might, but Tõnn was undisturbed, also deriving courage from the rags he had wisely swaddled around his hands; when the box was finally plucked open, the boy even tried to pet the kitty’s back, who was by then low as moss. No one got the paw over that audacity, but there were several types of growling. We decided that it was better to let the cat seek our friendship herself, and that’s why we put a just-opened tuna can a few steps from her, laid ourselves on the beds and pretended that we had magnitudes worth of more interesting things to think about than that poor little cat.
For some time the kitty laid unmoving on the floor of the cage, but then her little body started to rise bit by bit, almost reminding me of those snakes that rise on the tips of their tails while listening to flute sounds. First one could see the tips of her ears, then the gentle curve of the black forehead and after this two emerald green eyes whose tense gaze was chained to us. But as no one made any note of the cat and the feared human beasts seemed to have completely forgotten about her existence, the animal thought for a short while and then suddenly hop! — she was out of the box and just a meter and a half away from us on the floorboards. But don’t think that escape was the first thing on her mind — it seemed that tuna was sweeter for her than freedom, and the kitty-cat started chewing and pulling on it with great ferocity; eyes still on us though, as she seemed to be convinced that she was committing a major type of crime and we constituted a grave danger to her. And we did — as the kitty soon discovered to her horror — because we had locked all the doors and windows hard, so in the end she was still imprisoned, despite that this box was a hundred times larger.
For a week no one was allowed to touch Miss Cat, because if you only approached her she escaped under a table or a chair — but on one nice morning Agnes’ efforts finally bore fruit and she could touch the cat’s ears with the palm of her hand before the former disappeared into some dark corner. Only the next day — imagine that — Pigi Lii — because that’s how Freddy christened her after a singer from long, long ago — was in the girl’s lap, her chest and whiskers shaking from the great purring. Soon the cat had become a full member of our gang, but truly she was still only Agnes’ cat and Agnes her person. Until the end.
„Funny how such a beast has become so gentle and sweet an animal in such a few days,” were Freddy’s surprised words on that first morning, when Pigi had chosen Agnes’ lap for the first time to sleep in. The latter fondled her in a convulsive, frozen pose, as she was afraid that the merest careless move might drive the cat away again.
„Nothing to marvel at here,” Tõnn answered, „food and drink and a warm lap is really all that a wretched cat could desire.”
„Well, then we are better than that,” Freddy boasted, „we need something else, we need an idea, we need justice, we need truth.”
„Pheh,” Agnes grumbled quietly in order not to scare the cat. „A generations ago domesticated cat, who was then again abandoned by that same domesticator; her justice and truth is precisely in giving her back the food, drink and the lap which were long promised to her. I don’t see us as anyhow different from her.”
And we weren’t. Both our gang and Pigi Lii had escaped, although from different directions, but we had both wound up at the same point — Utopia, where the true dreamers dwell.
Link to ch. 4
