01-14-2019, 02:40 PM
Raul had just turned seventeen when the troubles in Annatown started. He had been on his way home when fighting broke out right there on the street. His father, Manuel, – an elderly but staunch supporter of Chaher – had been enraged when the "Resistance" eventually captured the town in mid-June, and correspondingly delighted when the Gonhogian forces ousted those "traitors" only days later. Both of his uncles – younger than his father, but equally steadfast to the cause – had volunteered to fight. The eventually died. One was killed somewhere in the Ecanta Province, whereas the other met his demise on the streets of Carville.
Being from a pro-Chaher family in Annatown could be tough at times, and the constant presence of foreign soldiers made everything tense. Still, Raul was able to get through most of the summer with ease. He stayed at home, mostly, reading and helping his mother with various chores. Then came august, and the battle of Annatown. His father had been hesitant to leave, even when the fighting intensified and quickly approached their neighborhood, but in the end, Raul's mother had given him an ultimatum. She was done. Done with fighting, done with family dying for nothing. She demanded they depart Annatown and head for Elopolis and her sisters. So they did.
Post-hostilities life in Elopolis for a family known to have supported Chaher was not easy. Raul endured bullying on a daily basis, and one night a group of men assaulted his father – not one to keep his views quiet – on an open street. The situation of his father and his Aunt Flora – the mother of two sons, both dead at the hands of the Junta – living together quickly deteriorated as well, and collapsed completely when Raul's mother passed away in the wake of a heart attack in mid-October. While Raul was welcome to stay, Aunt Flora would have nothing to do with Manuel.
Raul suggested they leave Lauchenoiria, and it was he who suggested they go to Gnejs. During the intense months of war, he had come across information about the gnejsian refugee program, and he knew a few of his countrymen had been accepted and left for the Prosaic Union in the very east of Hespia. While the fighting had long since ceased, the PUG embassy had informed him that Lauchenoirian citizens were still regarded as a "particular group" and eligible to seek fast-track asylum through the refugee program. His father – heartbroken and grief-stricken – had eventually consented, and by late November, they were settling in in a municipal flat on the outskirts of Segeltorp in the northwest of the region Berg, awaiting the final decisions on their residence permits.
The northern coast of Gnejs in winter is cold. Infinitely more cold than Raul could have imagined. He knew a bit about the Prosaic Union before coming there, of course, and the things he knew made him convince his father to bring him there. The Union has stunning nature. The people of the Union are generally friendly and kind, albeit slightly reserved. Above all, the Union is peaceful, having never endured war in modern times. All this he "knew" from reading online. What he didn’t know, was that applicants to the refugee program have no say in where they end up; they are settled by the Directorate of Immigration and they have to consent to live in their designated area for at least five years, should they have residency approved. So, while Raul had imagined making his new home in something like the more tepid areas of the southwest, encountering the snowclad and rugged coast of the north had come as something of a shock.
People were generally friendly, and there was undoubtedly a beauty to the harsh surroundings, but Raul still struggled to feel at home. In school, he was placed in a class for the newly arrived and had a hard time with studying and learning the singing-like language. He was friendly with most of the others, but didn’t really have any friends. He had always enjoyed football, but when the IDUFC started, he had a hard time watching it. Seeing the Lauchenoirian flag and hearing his old home mentioned time and time again left a sadness lingering within him.
Ironically, his father had a much easier time adapting to their new surroundings. His skills as a welder had landed him a job almost instantly, and while he was required to attend introductory language, history and social studies classes, the common tongue served just fine in the workplace. He had already made some friends, joined one of the unions, applied for membership in the Socialist Party of Gnejs (SPG), and overall seemed pleased.
Raul's only real "friend" was his appointed "integration counselor", Johan. He was nice to him, and seemed to understand what he was going through. One day they met at a café in downtown Segeltorp, and Johan presented Raul with an idea. "Gnejsians can be hard to approach, there's often this sense of formality lingering about, you know." He said while picking up the steaming teabag from his cup. Raul nodded. That was his impression as well. Even the kids his age had that "lingering formality". It seemed like they reserved their energy and interest for their groups of established friends, whereas there was always a certain distance – courtly, but always detached – when they interacted outside of those inner circles.
"But do you know what loosens them up a bit?" Johan continued, as he strangled the teabag with its piece of string, only putting it away when he was certain that every drop had went into the cup. "Alcohol and football, preferably combined," he said in answer to his own question. "It's banal, I know, but it's true. Tonight, the 'dandelions' play Gonhog. Go into town and find yourself a pub. There's a decent one by the park. I think it's called Olsen's. It usually caters to a fairly young crowd; kids your age or a little older, along with the old guard, of course. So, just sit down, have a beer or two, and observe." Raul nodded again, and sipped his cup of coffee. "I'm not saying that if you go there you'll magically make friends, that's not the point. The point is that you'll see people act differently. Just go, it'll be worth it."
While initially sceptic, Raul finally decided to go out that night. His father had been delighted about it, and when Raul was getting ready to go out the door, Manuel had shouted after him "Cheer for the Union, Raul, cheer for the Union!"
Olsen's only had a few patrons when Raul arrived, but then again it was short of an hour until game time. He stood still for a while and tried to take in the surroundings. Although he had only been studying PUG history and society for a short while, even he could tell the place was so obviously a blatant mishmash of cultural-regional stereotypes from all corners of the country, assembled in a way that only tourists and complete ignoramuses could find truly indicative of authentic and legitimate locality. Apparently, it was one of the most popular spots in town.
He sat down at the bar and ordered a domestic brew. It was a hefty bottle with a big orange anchor on it. It had a strong and musky taste, and it reminded Raul of coming in from the cold, and clothes slowly turning wet from melting snow. While nurturing his bottle, he observed more and more people entering the pub. There were two elderly men wearing peaked caps and thick grey ganseys, a big group of middle-aged men and women dressed in causal shirts and ties – most likely civil servants, and the ties would indicate they worked in the state sector – and after a while also several groups of young adults somewhere around his own age.
"Ok," Raul thought to himself, "Go ahead and show me different". Initially, nothing was very different from any other day he had experienced in Segeltorp so far. People were polite, and they all greeted him with a nod when they came up to the bar to place their orders, but none spoke to him. When he went to the restroom, he almost collided with another patron exiting, and the man apologized over and over, highlighting how unthoughtful and clumsy he had been, and semi-bowed as he retracted towards the bar without actually engaging in any real conversation.
He was about ready to leave, slightly disappointed about the whole affair. Nevertheless, when he got back to his seat, the game had started. He'd consciously stayed clear of the IDUFC up until this point, but when he saw the players running around the pitch on the big screen, he felt captivated, and decided to stay, for the game, if not anything else.
The 'dandelions' – apparently called so for their weed-like resilience and ability to patiently penetrate defensive lines, as a dandelion penetrates concrete – were in control for much of the first half of the game, but didn’t gain much on the Gonhog side. "A tight, technical game, full of careful passes and subtle positioning" was how one of the commentators labelled it after about 20 minutes of play, and Raul agreed. This was "northern" football played to perfection: defensive, disciplined, systematic. The football of Shuell and Gonhog. His father – while still sore about the subject of their home country – had been overtly annoyed and simultaneously awestruck when Lauchenoiria were defeated by Shuell just a few days ago, and had shouted "the only thing more "impressive" than the tightness of that defense is the list of human rights abuses perpetrated by their government" when the final whistle blew. Raul was surprised that to see that the 'dandelions' were playing the same kind of football. He didn’t quite know what he had expected, but in a way it made perfect sense that they played the way they did, based on how he knew the country.
About 35 minutes into the game, one of the old men with a peaked cap came up next to him at the bar to order another beer, round three or four, Raul guessed. He looked at Raul, waved his hand at the screen and said something in the native tongue. He had a thick accent and Raul only caught parts of it, but translating it in his head, it went something along the lines of "It's like standing up to yourself in the mirrors, heh". Raul, a bit startled, tried to reply, but his words came out all jumbled. Translated it would've been something like "keeping the longest will be hardest but we looks harsh in the game". The old man looked at him while he received his beer, and answered, this time in the common tongue, "Not from round here, are ye, originally, I take." Raul smiled and said that he was Lauchenoirian. The old man nodded while sipping his beer. "Dreadful business that, ye, dreadful. Good football though, if you like that kind of jumpy continental stuff, eh." Raul laughed, and was just about to recount his father's words about the Shuell defensive line, when the entire pub exploded in cheers. Nicolai Lennartson and Didrik Solstad had magnificently served Jack Wijk in front of the Gonhog keeper, and the 'dandelions' had the upper hand. The old man threw his arms in the air and shouted aloud, he turned to Raul and smacked him on the shoulder and said, "That's Wijk! That's the Finntorp-boy, on any given day we hate him*! But look at him now! Hero of the Union, right there, ye!"
The old man's friend was standing at their table, waving his peaked cap in the air and embracing one the civil servants from the next table. He started shouting "Svein!" towards the man standing with Raul, and motioned him to come back. Raul felt a bit apprehensive, not sure what to do or what would happen. However, Svein dragged Raul with him by the arm and shoved him right into the mix of middle-aged bureaucrats, old sailors and fashionable youngsters; he ended up holding hands and jumping up and down with a man in a plaid shirt and a girl he recognized from the tram he used to take to school.
When the euphoria settled, and halftime was a fact, he was invited to sit down at what had now become a tiny village of several tables all drawn together. Crammed in between Svein and plaid shirt guy, he was quickly engaged in conversation with a plurality if people. The game eventually commenced, and the second half mirrored the first in many aspects, with two strong teams that had little separating them. Raul was asked to comment on the game from his Lauchenoirian point of view and had an attentive audience when explaining their tradition of offensive football.
While at the bar and ordering another round, Raul got to talking with plaid shirt guy and the girl from the tram. He told them about his difficulties connecting with native gnejsians, and how Johan had suggested he'd come here during the game. "That's solid advice," said the girl, and took a big gulp of her beer. "It's like winter, really," said plaid shirt guy. "It's always a struggle to get inside the house, but once you're in, it's always warm."
As the game continued, and the 'dandelions' sealed their place in the semifinals with a late goal in the second bout of extra time, all the patrons of Olsen's – Raul included – were standing at the tables waving their pants over their heads and chanting.
*The cities of Finntorp on Ecpatia and Segeltorp are located close to one another on the northern coast, in the western part of Berg. The local football team IFK Segeltorp plays in the top level League 1, and has a fierce rivalry with the two League 1 clubs from Finntorp on Ecpatia, Finntorp IK and BK Rösunda.
Being from a pro-Chaher family in Annatown could be tough at times, and the constant presence of foreign soldiers made everything tense. Still, Raul was able to get through most of the summer with ease. He stayed at home, mostly, reading and helping his mother with various chores. Then came august, and the battle of Annatown. His father had been hesitant to leave, even when the fighting intensified and quickly approached their neighborhood, but in the end, Raul's mother had given him an ultimatum. She was done. Done with fighting, done with family dying for nothing. She demanded they depart Annatown and head for Elopolis and her sisters. So they did.
Post-hostilities life in Elopolis for a family known to have supported Chaher was not easy. Raul endured bullying on a daily basis, and one night a group of men assaulted his father – not one to keep his views quiet – on an open street. The situation of his father and his Aunt Flora – the mother of two sons, both dead at the hands of the Junta – living together quickly deteriorated as well, and collapsed completely when Raul's mother passed away in the wake of a heart attack in mid-October. While Raul was welcome to stay, Aunt Flora would have nothing to do with Manuel.
Raul suggested they leave Lauchenoiria, and it was he who suggested they go to Gnejs. During the intense months of war, he had come across information about the gnejsian refugee program, and he knew a few of his countrymen had been accepted and left for the Prosaic Union in the very east of Hespia. While the fighting had long since ceased, the PUG embassy had informed him that Lauchenoirian citizens were still regarded as a "particular group" and eligible to seek fast-track asylum through the refugee program. His father – heartbroken and grief-stricken – had eventually consented, and by late November, they were settling in in a municipal flat on the outskirts of Segeltorp in the northwest of the region Berg, awaiting the final decisions on their residence permits.
The northern coast of Gnejs in winter is cold. Infinitely more cold than Raul could have imagined. He knew a bit about the Prosaic Union before coming there, of course, and the things he knew made him convince his father to bring him there. The Union has stunning nature. The people of the Union are generally friendly and kind, albeit slightly reserved. Above all, the Union is peaceful, having never endured war in modern times. All this he "knew" from reading online. What he didn’t know, was that applicants to the refugee program have no say in where they end up; they are settled by the Directorate of Immigration and they have to consent to live in their designated area for at least five years, should they have residency approved. So, while Raul had imagined making his new home in something like the more tepid areas of the southwest, encountering the snowclad and rugged coast of the north had come as something of a shock.
People were generally friendly, and there was undoubtedly a beauty to the harsh surroundings, but Raul still struggled to feel at home. In school, he was placed in a class for the newly arrived and had a hard time with studying and learning the singing-like language. He was friendly with most of the others, but didn’t really have any friends. He had always enjoyed football, but when the IDUFC started, he had a hard time watching it. Seeing the Lauchenoirian flag and hearing his old home mentioned time and time again left a sadness lingering within him.
Ironically, his father had a much easier time adapting to their new surroundings. His skills as a welder had landed him a job almost instantly, and while he was required to attend introductory language, history and social studies classes, the common tongue served just fine in the workplace. He had already made some friends, joined one of the unions, applied for membership in the Socialist Party of Gnejs (SPG), and overall seemed pleased.
Raul's only real "friend" was his appointed "integration counselor", Johan. He was nice to him, and seemed to understand what he was going through. One day they met at a café in downtown Segeltorp, and Johan presented Raul with an idea. "Gnejsians can be hard to approach, there's often this sense of formality lingering about, you know." He said while picking up the steaming teabag from his cup. Raul nodded. That was his impression as well. Even the kids his age had that "lingering formality". It seemed like they reserved their energy and interest for their groups of established friends, whereas there was always a certain distance – courtly, but always detached – when they interacted outside of those inner circles.
"But do you know what loosens them up a bit?" Johan continued, as he strangled the teabag with its piece of string, only putting it away when he was certain that every drop had went into the cup. "Alcohol and football, preferably combined," he said in answer to his own question. "It's banal, I know, but it's true. Tonight, the 'dandelions' play Gonhog. Go into town and find yourself a pub. There's a decent one by the park. I think it's called Olsen's. It usually caters to a fairly young crowd; kids your age or a little older, along with the old guard, of course. So, just sit down, have a beer or two, and observe." Raul nodded again, and sipped his cup of coffee. "I'm not saying that if you go there you'll magically make friends, that's not the point. The point is that you'll see people act differently. Just go, it'll be worth it."
While initially sceptic, Raul finally decided to go out that night. His father had been delighted about it, and when Raul was getting ready to go out the door, Manuel had shouted after him "Cheer for the Union, Raul, cheer for the Union!"
Olsen's only had a few patrons when Raul arrived, but then again it was short of an hour until game time. He stood still for a while and tried to take in the surroundings. Although he had only been studying PUG history and society for a short while, even he could tell the place was so obviously a blatant mishmash of cultural-regional stereotypes from all corners of the country, assembled in a way that only tourists and complete ignoramuses could find truly indicative of authentic and legitimate locality. Apparently, it was one of the most popular spots in town.
He sat down at the bar and ordered a domestic brew. It was a hefty bottle with a big orange anchor on it. It had a strong and musky taste, and it reminded Raul of coming in from the cold, and clothes slowly turning wet from melting snow. While nurturing his bottle, he observed more and more people entering the pub. There were two elderly men wearing peaked caps and thick grey ganseys, a big group of middle-aged men and women dressed in causal shirts and ties – most likely civil servants, and the ties would indicate they worked in the state sector – and after a while also several groups of young adults somewhere around his own age.
"Ok," Raul thought to himself, "Go ahead and show me different". Initially, nothing was very different from any other day he had experienced in Segeltorp so far. People were polite, and they all greeted him with a nod when they came up to the bar to place their orders, but none spoke to him. When he went to the restroom, he almost collided with another patron exiting, and the man apologized over and over, highlighting how unthoughtful and clumsy he had been, and semi-bowed as he retracted towards the bar without actually engaging in any real conversation.
He was about ready to leave, slightly disappointed about the whole affair. Nevertheless, when he got back to his seat, the game had started. He'd consciously stayed clear of the IDUFC up until this point, but when he saw the players running around the pitch on the big screen, he felt captivated, and decided to stay, for the game, if not anything else.
The 'dandelions' – apparently called so for their weed-like resilience and ability to patiently penetrate defensive lines, as a dandelion penetrates concrete – were in control for much of the first half of the game, but didn’t gain much on the Gonhog side. "A tight, technical game, full of careful passes and subtle positioning" was how one of the commentators labelled it after about 20 minutes of play, and Raul agreed. This was "northern" football played to perfection: defensive, disciplined, systematic. The football of Shuell and Gonhog. His father – while still sore about the subject of their home country – had been overtly annoyed and simultaneously awestruck when Lauchenoiria were defeated by Shuell just a few days ago, and had shouted "the only thing more "impressive" than the tightness of that defense is the list of human rights abuses perpetrated by their government" when the final whistle blew. Raul was surprised that to see that the 'dandelions' were playing the same kind of football. He didn’t quite know what he had expected, but in a way it made perfect sense that they played the way they did, based on how he knew the country.
About 35 minutes into the game, one of the old men with a peaked cap came up next to him at the bar to order another beer, round three or four, Raul guessed. He looked at Raul, waved his hand at the screen and said something in the native tongue. He had a thick accent and Raul only caught parts of it, but translating it in his head, it went something along the lines of "It's like standing up to yourself in the mirrors, heh". Raul, a bit startled, tried to reply, but his words came out all jumbled. Translated it would've been something like "keeping the longest will be hardest but we looks harsh in the game". The old man looked at him while he received his beer, and answered, this time in the common tongue, "Not from round here, are ye, originally, I take." Raul smiled and said that he was Lauchenoirian. The old man nodded while sipping his beer. "Dreadful business that, ye, dreadful. Good football though, if you like that kind of jumpy continental stuff, eh." Raul laughed, and was just about to recount his father's words about the Shuell defensive line, when the entire pub exploded in cheers. Nicolai Lennartson and Didrik Solstad had magnificently served Jack Wijk in front of the Gonhog keeper, and the 'dandelions' had the upper hand. The old man threw his arms in the air and shouted aloud, he turned to Raul and smacked him on the shoulder and said, "That's Wijk! That's the Finntorp-boy, on any given day we hate him*! But look at him now! Hero of the Union, right there, ye!"
The old man's friend was standing at their table, waving his peaked cap in the air and embracing one the civil servants from the next table. He started shouting "Svein!" towards the man standing with Raul, and motioned him to come back. Raul felt a bit apprehensive, not sure what to do or what would happen. However, Svein dragged Raul with him by the arm and shoved him right into the mix of middle-aged bureaucrats, old sailors and fashionable youngsters; he ended up holding hands and jumping up and down with a man in a plaid shirt and a girl he recognized from the tram he used to take to school.
When the euphoria settled, and halftime was a fact, he was invited to sit down at what had now become a tiny village of several tables all drawn together. Crammed in between Svein and plaid shirt guy, he was quickly engaged in conversation with a plurality if people. The game eventually commenced, and the second half mirrored the first in many aspects, with two strong teams that had little separating them. Raul was asked to comment on the game from his Lauchenoirian point of view and had an attentive audience when explaining their tradition of offensive football.
While at the bar and ordering another round, Raul got to talking with plaid shirt guy and the girl from the tram. He told them about his difficulties connecting with native gnejsians, and how Johan had suggested he'd come here during the game. "That's solid advice," said the girl, and took a big gulp of her beer. "It's like winter, really," said plaid shirt guy. "It's always a struggle to get inside the house, but once you're in, it's always warm."
As the game continued, and the 'dandelions' sealed their place in the semifinals with a late goal in the second bout of extra time, all the patrons of Olsen's – Raul included – were standing at the tables waving their pants over their heads and chanting.
*The cities of Finntorp on Ecpatia and Segeltorp are located close to one another on the northern coast, in the western part of Berg. The local football team IFK Segeltorp plays in the top level League 1, and has a fierce rivalry with the two League 1 clubs from Finntorp on Ecpatia, Finntorp IK and BK Rösunda.