The Rock Blaster

Elvira, Elly’s Sister

Magnus Nilsson meets Elly several times. But he is also there when Oskar marries her sister. Oskar is happy and puts his mutilated arm around Magnus’s shoulders.

Elly, sister.

  Elvira, sister.

“We met at a protest march. There were actually many who did in those days. And perhaps that wasn’t surprising. It was one of the few occasions we were all together at the same time. And you never knew who you would end up walking next to. You laughed at each other and said something. Then when the meeting was over, we had to get back to town. Nothing odd about that. It may sound a bit strange, but it wasn’t.

“We chatted and she clearly wasn’t bothered by the way I looked. In those days there were many who were injured. Sooner or later it happened to almost all workers. Many had had rickets. Others had coughing fits as we marched and sang and some even had to sit down by the side of the procession to get their strength back. Some were limping. Quite a few had lost a whole arm. I remember that for years there was an old man who carried one of the banners with his one arm. He was incredibly strong. The other arm had been torn off by a cutting machine. Right up by his shoulder. And there were many women too who were missing an arm or some fingers. It was almost normal. We used to go for coffee after marching. I suppose I must have asked if she would let me invite her. She replied that her name was Elvira and said, yes please. We went to some café. She told me she worked in the textile factory. She used to spin raw wool. She lived at home with her parents. They were seven children. She may have mentioned that one of them was called Elly, but I didn’t think anything of it. We talked about the demonstration. I remember her saying that she only knew the first verse of the song we’d been singing. She found reading so difficult, she said. And then I suddenly noticed that she kept narrowing her eyes because she couldn’t see properly. I asked her why she didn’t wear glasses and she said that then she would lose her job. But what about after work, I asked. She was afraid that some foreman would see her with them on. She did have a pair at home, however. It seems that her poor eyesight was congenital.

“Afterwards I walked her home. We decided to meet again the week after. She lived quite far out of town, where the houses were among the oldest and most dilapidated. I was actually quite pleased to have met her.

“I had no idea she was Elly’s sister. It was a strange coincidence.”

When Elvira died, Elly came to the funeral. She and Oskar sat next to each other at the crematorium. Oskar’s children sat behind. Then when Elly died, just one year later, Oskar saw it in the newspaper. Otherwise, he would have attended. I know that without him telling me.

There are sticky rings from beer bottles on the table. The place is quite full and Oskar sits in a corner nodding at the people who come and go. Most of them are men. It is an evening in the middle of the week.

Then Elvira arrives and many eyes turn to her as she stands in the doorway and looks for Oskar. When Elvira goes over and sits down at his table, there are some who smile and wink and nod at Oskar.

They order coffee. They stir their cups and this time it is harder for them to talk to each other.

Elvira is wearing a white dress. Elly gave it to her.

“That’s a nice dress.”

“You think so?”

“White looks nice. Would you like some more?”

“Yes, thanks. Thank you, that’s enough.”

“Don’t you take sugar?”

“No. Never.”

“I do. Always.”

“It tastes better without.”

“You think?”

They are sitting in the café and there is a buzz and a clatter. A grating sound of chairs scraping over the wooden floor. Cups and glasses chink.

Then comes the question and Oskar is expecting it.

“A blasting accident a year ago. The newspapers actually wrote that I was dead. But I made it.”

“How did it feel?”

“I don’t remember. Everybody asks me, but I have no memory of it. It all just went white I think. Like your dress.”

Elvira giggles and looks down. Oskar asks her how old she is.

“Twenty-two this year.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“I thought you were older.”

“I’m not.”

Spoons stirring.

“Can I see you on Sunday?”

“I’ve got to look after my brothers and sisters so that Mor and Far can go to church.”

“Why don’t I help you?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes. If you like.”

“Well, come at eleven then.”

After that they walk around town for a while. The seventh ofMay, 1912.

Elvira pours out coffee. Oskar is wearing his best clothes and sitting at the kitchen table. The younger brothers and sisters romp around. Elvira wants to show that she is firm and tells them not to jump about so much and to make less noise. Oskar says it doesn’t bother him.

They exchange a few sentences to get to the most important thing.

“When can we see each other again?”

“Some evening.”

“Wednesday?”

“Thursday’s better.”

And Oskar begins to take Elvira out on Thursday evenings.

He tells Magnus about Elvira. Magnus gives a little smile and nods.

“We might come back here for a while.”

“Do. I can go out.”

“No. You don’t need to.”

“I’m quite happy to. As long as it doesn’t get too late.”

“It won’t.”

And Elvira does come. They sit there even more quietly. They sit at the kitchen table, and only just before Elvira has to leave Oskar reaches out and takes her hand. Left hand, left hand. Elvira is prepared for it.

By writing in to a magazine advice column or calling the Swedish Meteorological Institute, you can find out what the weather was like then. Was it raining as Elvira walked home? The newspaper archives reveal that the textile industry in which Elvira worked was doing well, with strong sales and high production figures.

But they are sitting at the kitchen table. Left hand in left hand. Empty coffee cups. A fly buzzing in the window. Magnus Nilsson walking along the streets.

It hurts when Oskar has to pee. He feels a tightening and tugging in his abdomen. It is a pain that he will have to live with. But now he is lying on the kitchen sofa. Magnus is snoring in his room. Elvira left several hours ago. Soon they will all be working at their different places. Oskar feels his penis starting to rise. It has begun to heal and the doctors have said that he can have children. It rises and Oskar senses that it is short. But it does lift and stiffen. Oskar reaches for it with his hand. He thinks about Elvira and then realises that he can function.

He gets up for a while. Sits down at the kitchen table in his nightshirt, and dreams.

“I began picking her up from work whenever I could make it. The smell there was awful. Just next door there was some factory where they made something which stank. Elvira worked in a sooty brick building. I remember that I used to press my ear against the wall and then you could hear the machines inside. You felt the walls vibrating. Then, as soon as the siren started to howl, they all came pouring out at the same time. It looked as if they were running away. Elvira was never among the first. She used to wash very carefully. Many of them never bothered. They must have been too tired. Or else they wanted to get away as quickly as possible. When the siren began to blare, I used to cross over to the other side of the street and wait there. I suppose that was a bit childish. I was always nervous before she came out through the factory gate. It was one of the times when I met her there that she told me Elly was her sister.”

When Oskar returned to the blasting team he was received with great respect.

“You’re welcome back. We want you to know that.”

Norström is standing there, tall and heavy, and slaps Oskar on the shoulder.

“From now on it’s you who blows up the dynamite, and not the other way round.”

Norström’s laughs his loud rumbling laugh.

“And we don’t have to do those bloody tunnels anymore. No need to make holes which end up collapsing sooner or later. Every single piece of rock has to go.”

Norström points. They are blasting along the main road. It is to be widened.

“I don’t see the point. It’s not as though we’re so crowded that we can’t all fit on the road. But never mind. As long as we get to blast it all away.”

Then the work begins again. Oskar does what he can, given his handicap. He bakes dynamite, he primes charges, he takes care of detonating cables and explosions. But when a charge does not go off, it is one of the others who goes to check. Others carry the metal spikes. Others take the cart and the shovels. Norström walks around, kicks at the young helper, who is new.

“You see that, Johansson. The last one got so scared when you were blown in the air that he quit. Weaklings.”

Norström yells at everybody except Oskar. Oskar’s accident is the gem in Norström’s life as a rock blaster. Oskar is a blaster again. For the second time in his life.

One evening Norström asks Oskar to his home. He has invited colleagues, blasting bosses from other teams, and Oskar will be on show. Amid boozing and bragging.

Oskar arrives at about seven. The same wooden house, the same flat, but always somewhere else in town. The children have been turned out. The wife stays in the back room. The foremen are in the kitchen, sitting around the table.

“Here’s Johansson. You’re to shake him by the hand, and show him some bloody respect.”

Norström’s face is puce. He is sweating from the alcohol coursing through his veins. Three other foremen sit around the table. All the same age as Norström. Somehow, they all look alike. The same sagging bellies. The same huge fists. The same booming voices.

“Sit down here next to me.”

Norström kicks out a chair. Oskar sits. The men peer at him.

“So you’re the one who survived that bang. Well done.”

“Well done? That’s putting it mildly.”

Norström shows off his gem. Glasses are filled and drained.

“Aren’t you having anything?”

“No, thanks.”

“Don’t be stupid. Whoever heard of a blaster turning down a snaps?”

Norström booms.

“Well, I suppose you have an excuse, after your accident. Have a beer.” Oskar sits with his glass while the foremen gradually turn to vying with each other over performance, curious episodes involving dynamite, eccentric blasters, terrible accidents. Oskar listens.

“We had one who blew himself up. I guess he’d gotten himself plastered. During the lunch break he took some dynamite, lit it, and stuck it in his pocket. There was nothing left of him. I think we found half a shoe.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Some time in 1890 we lost two blasters in one day. One accident in the morning and another in the afternoon. And they were brothers. For a while I think we suspected that the one in the afternoon had done it on purpose. Presumably he was upset about what had happened to his brother.”

Then the conversation moves on to socialism.

“We should take care of the Party.”

“But why the hell paint everything so black? To call the king a traitor and murderer is going a bit far, isn’t it? They went to jail, didn’t they?”

“Yes. We collected money for them.”

“There’s bound to be a revolution. Don’t you agree, Johansson?”

“It goes without saying.”

“It does indeed.”

Oskar believes in the revolution. That is Magnus Nilsson’s doing. He has found a new way to talk to him about it. He has made Oskar restive. Change is possible. There has to be change. The way things are now is just wrong and unfair. And restive people soon begin to make demands.

When Oskar leaves the foremen he goes home, but at the same time he is walking towards a different experience of reality.