Nilas was contemplating his options. His life was still centered around Gothenburg. For almost twenty-eight years, he’d lived on the West Coast, longer than he’d ever been anywhere else. He still had his job there, friends, great colleagues, and the house—a house he and Casper had carefully renovated to fit their needs and the quirks of their lifestyle. But without Casper, he felt as if he was but tumbleweed, without any real roots, tumbling about at the mercy of the prevailing wind. Nilas had never felt comfortable without roots, and recently, he’d begun to long for Gávtjávrrie, for Sápmi.
Things had changed so much around here. And while the village seemed destined to wither and die, the few people who still lived here loved the land, lived in harmony with it. Many of them were Sami, but some were Swedes who had moved here in order to be close to nature, working in tourism or in the public sector.
Nilas felt that he had firm roots here, still, even all these decades after moving away to Stockholm to study. He’d always been drawn back here, now more than ever. Casper was here. He let his mind wander freely, thinking of retiring early, moving back to look after his parents. Maybe write a book? Casper had always told him to write.
Financially, he was well off, and if he were to sell the house in the city, he could literally buy any house up here and still have plenty of money left over to last him a very long time. Not that he needed to. He was fine staying in his childhood home with his parents. Money to travel? He’d always wanted to see more of the world. Maybe walk the King’s Trail. It went right through the village, yet he’d never ventured more than a dozen miles north or south on it. He still had almost 270 miles left to discover.
A smile crept across Nilas’s face, and he got up from the spot on the grass where he’d been sitting. He took a deep breath, stretched out his arms and slowly exhaled. Before him, Sápmi beckoned. The local lakes mirrored the heavens and the surrounding landscape: fresh greens, grays, and whites. Not a gust of wind anywhere. The sky was a pale blue and the sun was gently warming the chilly early-June air. Spots of green grass and the first tender alpine flowers appeared amid last winter’s snow. The reindeer had returned already, calving in the mountains. The sight before Nilas’s eyes was that of absolute stillness and peace. A warm sensation crept up his spine and spread all over his body, and he realized he’d come to an important decision.
He smiled. He knew Casper would agree.
“I’m coming home,” he said out loud, then turned around to continue his walk to the northwest and the special little lake that lay just a few miles away. He was in no hurry. And with every step he took, his breathing felt easier, as Sápmi welcomed him home.
The End
* * * * *
Sami words used in this book
There are seven distinct Sami languages that are spoken across Sápmi. As Nilas is from Gávtjávrrie (Ammarnäs), the words used in this book are Ume Sami, the language spoken in that region of what is now part of the Swedish county of Västerbotten. It is the smallest of the seven languages and less than one hundred people remain who speak it fluently, although the language has recently seen a resurgence and is actively promoted by local Sami.
Like all Sami languages, it is traditionally an oral language with no writing, having adopted the Latin alphabet to help preserve it and teach it to the younger generations. You might, therefore, see different spellings of the same word, depending on where you search. Also, traditionally, Swedish maps use a north Sami spelling of words, and places may be named differently by Ume Sami.
Sápmi: literally means “the land,” the northern parts of Scandinavia and all the way over to the Kola Peninsula
Sami: “the people,” the indigenous peoples that lived in Sápmi for the past eight thousand years (based on archeological finds)
dádtja (sg), dádtjh (pl): Swede, non-Sami person. These days often used in a negative way.
áhttjie: father
tjidtjie: mother
áhtjáhkká: paternal grandmother
áhtjájjá: paternal grandfather
beäjvviebájttuo: sunshine
månna jähtsáb duv: I love you!
gijttuo: Thank you
jyönna: maternal uncle
veällja: brother
bárnnie: son
neäjdda: daughter
Ráđienáhttjie: The Almighty Father
Ráđienáhkká: The Almighty Mother
Gávtjávrrie: Ammarnäs
Njieries: Näsberget
Skeäbllje: Ammar mountain
Gávtjávrrie: Gautsträsk
Store Givnjuo: Stora Tjulträsket
* * * * *
About the Author
Photo: John O’Leary
Hans M Hirschi has been writing stories since childhood. As an adult, the demands of corporate life put an end to his fiction for more than twenty years. A global executive in training, he has traveled the world and published several non-fiction titles as well as four well-received novels. The birth of his son provided him with the opportunity to rekindle his love of creative writing, where he expresses his deep passion for a better world through love and tolerance. Hans lives with his husband and son on a small island off the west coast of Sweden.
Visit Hans online at: www.hirschi.se
* * * * *
By the Author
Fiction
Family Ties
The Opera House
Living the Rainbow – A Gay Family Triptych
(includes Family Ties, The Opera House and Jonathan’s Hope)
The Fallen Angels of Karnataka
Willem of the Tafel
Spanish Bay
Ross Deere – Handy Man
Shorts – Stories from Beneath the Rainbow
The Jonathan Trilogy
Jonathan’s Hope
Jonathan’s Promise
Jonathan’s Legacy
Last Winter’s Snow
Non-Fiction
Dads – A Gay Couple’s Surrogacy Journey in India
Common Sense – In Business & Life
Acknowledgements
Some books are easier to write than others. This one took me eight months, just to write. I knew little to nothing about the Sami people, from which Nilas had manifested himself to be, and my research online only got me part of the way. My deepest thanks go to Mikael Vinka, who runs the Geunja Eco Tourism lodge in Ammarnäs, a gentle and kind man, deeply rooted in his cultural heritage and the best possible guide to Sápmi and the Sami people. I learned more in the two days I spent with him than I ever could’ve dreamed possible.
I also owe a debt of gratitude to the small town—or village—of Gávtjávrrie, or Ammarnäs, and its kind and welcoming inhabitants. No more than eighty, but the news of my arrival had spread like a wildfire. I guess people don’t write books about this gem of a place every day. Thanks to Tim and the local inn, Ammarnäs Wärdshus, for making me feel like a king during my stay. Gávtjávrrie turned out to be just as I’d hoped it would be.
A big thank you also to Henrik Barruk, a Sami linguist who has dedicated his professional life to the preservation of Ume Sami. His valuable contributions to this book are duly noted.
When you do research into a story, and your characters, sometimes they take you places you never dreamed of before. I’m grateful to be able to go on such journeys and for the ongoing support from my family in my endeavors.
Thanks are also due to my publisher, Beaten Track Publishing, who continue to believe in me and indulge my crazy stories. Thanks to my editor, Debbie McGowan for the tireless work on improving my language and eradicating all those instances where I tend to blend the many languages I’ve learned in my life into Shakespeare’s. The woman’s a saint to the English language!
Thanks to Natasha Snow for yet another stunning cover. I don’t know how you do it, but you keep blowing me away.
Thanks also to my proofreaders for fine-combing this book for errors and typos and thus giving the story its final polish.
Gijttuo!
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