‘Has something happened?’
‘I’ve spoken to Ivik.’
‘Ivinnguaq? What did she say?’
‘Did you realise that she feels like a man?’
She nods.
‘I’ve had a boyfriend.’
‘Actually, I think you’ve known it all along. At least you tried to be with a man once in your life,’ she says, smiling.
‘Maybe I did know, deep down. He felt better after we talked, so that’s good.’
‘What about you?’ she asks, putting her hand on my back. I hunch my shoulders. I don’t want to cry. She sees it on me and lets me compose myself.
‘Now you sit down in that armchair over there. Everything will be all right when you hold the baby.’
‘No, it’s all right.’
‘Sit down!’ she smiles.
I can’t keep denying her so I sit. There. I’m sacrificing my heart for the child. When my sister hands me the baby, she immediately starts to cry. I’m shocked and try to hand her back to my sister but she quickly moves out of reach.
‘Don’t worry. She’ll stop in a minute,’ she says.
I just can’t cope with her crying and, panicking, I begin to console her.
‘Just take it easy,’ my sister says.
I relax my muscles. I cradle the baby gently as I talk to her. She stops crying and it’s as if the whole world stops. She breathes quietly. Her facial muscles loosen up. I gaze at her delicate lips. She tightens her face once more and just when I think that she’s about to cry again, I realise she’s smiling. A very happy smile. As if somebody reassured her while she was worried. As if somebody said something lovely to her while she was upset. As if she’s no longer alone after having been lonely. I look at my sister. Did you see that? I ask with my eyes. She nods. I feel my heart beating. I’ve just witnessed one of the wonders of life, and a gratitude grows inside me that I haven’t felt for a long time. Things will be all right, I feel; life’s okay. I forget the coldness of the night.
‘Welcome,’ I say to the little baby in my arms. ‘Welcome.’
She’s given me joy that I can’t describe. I think of all the fantastic things that joy will give her, and I smile. Life has many challenges to offer, but love’s small miracles will always win. I’ve sacrificed my dark heart and it dies. Light replaces it. I’ve sacrificed my dark heart and it dies. Instead, light is trickling into me. I’m whole once more. I’ve sacrificed the darkness in me. The darkness in me dies. I sacrifice myself; I die but am born again. When something dies, something is born.
#welcomebacktolife
18.47
I must have fallen asleep with the child in my arms and I wake up with a start. Time no longer means anything when I see her sleeping peacefully. The things going on in the world right now no longer mean anything. For the past few months, I’ve felt like shit from the moment I woke up, and now that feeling has disappeared. I would often wake up and immediately feel that I didn’t have the energy to face the day. I would often have to force my heavy body out of bed. In fact, I’d given up finding the purpose of life. Now my body is so light that I’ll almost be able to fly when I get out of bed tomorrow morning. My thoughts are so wonderful that I can’t control the smile on my lips. I kiss the child and give her to my sister.
‘Are you feeling better?’ she asks.
I nod.
‘What about the woman … What’s her name … Fia? Have you heard from her?’
‘No. She’s not interested in me. But that’s okay,’ I answer.
My body is suffering because I can’t get what I long for. I become restless whenever I think of her. I burn when I see her. My body aches for her. But there’s nothing I can do about it. If she doesn’t feel the same for me, it’s no good hoping.
‘Her loss,’ my sister says, kissing my cheek.
‘My loss,’ I say. ‘You should see how beautiful she is!’
‘What are you doing here then? Find her – after all, Nuuk isn’t that big.’
‘Nuuk is big when there’s somebody you actually want to bump into. People you don’t want to see pop up all the time, but people you want to see are nowhere to be found,’ I sigh.
‘She’s bound to show up some time.’
‘Well, what would be the point if she did? I would just feel worse because I can’t have her.’
‘Then do something or other. Go out with your friends. You’ll go crazy if you act like a hermit,’ she says with a slight laugh, pointing towards the door. ‘Now get out of here.’
I laugh, give her a hug and kiss the baby. I walk out as a completely different person from the one who walked in. I feel I’ve got a new chance to make something of my life and I want to take it. I want to start fresh. The town is quiet now. The sun is lower in the sky but it’s still light. A strong feeling of joy hits me and my otherwise dead body wants to move. I run home to fetch my bike and off I go. My lungs can hardly cope with the tall hill by the airport but I can finally feel my weak muscles beginning to come alive. Without stopping, I reach the top and gasp for breath. My muscles are working, and I can feel the blood circulating around my body. My heart is beating. Still I really need to feel that I’m alive. I reach the steep road down towards Qinngorput, the newest area of Nuuk, and stop. When I was a kid, I would zoom down the tall hills just to feel the excitement. Now I want to feel alive. I want to feel the pain if I fall. I want to feel the relief if I don’t. I want to feel. I’m calm for a moment, then I begin to pedal hard. Soon I’m going really fast and the wind sings in my ears. The handlebars are hard to control. I veer off course almost without touching them. I approach a couple who are out for a walk and although I realise that they might quickly change direction, I race so close to them that my heart nearly stops. The road is turning and I cycle out into the middle of it. If a car comes, most likely I’ll be badly hurt. I might die. If I’m supposed to live, no car will come. If I’m supposed to die, then a car will come. It’s that simple. I turn with the road and my heart hurts. I’m so nervous that I almost stop breathing. Adrenalin kicks in hard as the possibility of death is just around the bend but I’m cycling too fast to change my mind. I hope no car will come. I reach the curve in the road and my heart is pounding. I gasp for breath. I feel saved. No car is coming. I can’t help being amused at myself and laugh out loud. The road straightens out and although I’m going fast, I lift my hands from the handlebars. Tears begin to pour down my cheeks from the strong wind, and once more I head right towards the middle of the road, and I close my eyes. The heaviness in me is blown away and disappears. My body will survive. I’ve arisen from the dead.
#chance #change
21.56
I lie down on my small sofa and switch on the music. I can’t seem to find the right songs so I listen to some instrumental music instead. I’m not ready to go to bed because all the amazing things that have happened today are bouncing around my head. I feel that Ivik’s forgiveness is beginning to help. I’m human, I can’t ignore my needs any more. I forgive myself for the breakup. I forgive myself for thinking of somebody else. I’m only human. But I can’t stop thinking of Fia. Her beautiful face pops up among my many thoughts. My stomach fizzes every time I think of her. Every time, I smile. But I distract myself when it happens because hope is too dangerous! I reassure myself that someday I’ll find the right person. I just can’t imagine not having Fia. I have to accept that I’m alone. I was born alone, and I’ll die alone. Being alone isn’t all bad. It’s enough that somebody loves you and you love somebody. If you love yourself, you’re not lonely when you’re alone. Look at me, all positive. I listen to the guitar in the speaker, my heart exposed. When the song ends, a new one begins. I recognise the song and shiver: it’s the song I listened to when I was a teenager and just beginning to accept that I was queer. I haven’t listened to it for several years. Greg Laswell, ‘What a Day’. The forgotten lyrics suddenly appear from somewhere inside me. The song speaks of all my experiences today. I get goose bumps. The day
can’t become any stranger. The day can’t become more special. I repeat the lyrics and close my eyes. I try to relax my body although my mind resists. I feel a need to relax. I’m no longer alert. I begin to daydream. Fia is by my side. She smiles. We’re alone. We know nobody around us. This never happens back home. A warm breeze hits our bodies. The sun is shining down on us. We sit on a small, grass-covered hilltop, gazing towards the sea. We see the Golden Gate Bridge. San Francisco. It truly is a day for San Francisco, just as the Laswell song says. Then the music changes.
#CrimsonandClover
01.08
My fantasy has taken me to a faraway world and I’ve calmed down. I get a text and remember that I’m in Greenland. A friend congratulates me on my niece and invites me out. I’m thrilled and accept immediately. I’m not yet prepared to call it a day. I already know that I won’t see Fia in town. The day has given me so many surprises that it would be just too much if she appeared out of the blue. But then again, here’s to hoping. I get ready and go to the club Manhattan to meet my friends. They’re standing outside as I get out of the taxi. They all hug and congratulate me. I’m so proud that I can’t help smiling. We walk inside and my eyes keep a lookout for the beautiful face. I can’t see her but I’m not upset. I realise that something in me has changed today. Life is so wonderful that I’m not going to be sad that I can’t have everything. We dance and laugh till the club closes. I smile at everybody who smiles. I hug people I haven’t seen for ages. The child has filled me with so much love that I have something left to pass on. I spread love because my heart feels like it’s literally overflowing. We follow my friends’ friends, who have invited us to an after-party because all the nightclubs are closing. It’s light and pleasant outside. We head over to a block of flats. We go in and sit down on the sofas. People talk animatedly to one another and I walk around, chatting a bit with everybody.
‘Sara, come and play something on the guitar. You’re so good!’ my friend says.
I automatically demur. Yet the joy I have often faked feels genuine and tonight my reluctance disappears. I pick up the guitar and begin to play Greenlandic songs. The others join in singing, giving it everything they’ve got. Every time we start a new song, we sing it louder than the previous one. I can’t help noticing a young man sitting opposite me. There’s something familiar about his face and I wonder if I’ve met him somewhere before. He’s handsome. There’s something about his body language I recognise but I can’t think where I would have met him. I can see that he’s gay and think that I might have noticed him at Pride. Just as I’m about to ask him, he gets up and walks towards the door. I’m smiling among happy people, waiting for him to come back. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt alive; it’s a long time since I’ve been myself. I look around when something catches my eye. I see her. I see her standing next to this handsome man. She’s simply so beautiful that I know I’m in love. I cannot give up, even if I have to fight for her for the rest of my life. Fia. So many things have happened all through this long day but I just can’t believe that this is actually happening. I get up and go over to her. I’m ready to sacrifice my light heart. She’ll either accept it or reject it. Either way, it’s worth it. I just smile because I can’t find the words to speak. Fia is also silent. I can’t figure out what she’s thinking. I’ve sacrificed my precious heart and all I can do is hope that it won’t be ruined. She hands me a crumpled piece of paper; I unfold it and read. Our song.
I sing it. I sing it just for her.
The spring morning comes alive. The blue sky lights up. The rays of the sun hit Sermitsiaq and the north-eastern spring sky shines red. The morning is still. The morning is gentle. The air is fresh and I stand right in front of Fia. I gaze at her. Hear her. Touch her. Kiss her. I want to spend all my time with her. I feel her. I love her.
‘Crimson and Clover,’ I say to her.
‘Over and over,’ she replies.
What a day to be alive, I think.
04.32
#whataday
Glossary
Angaju: affectionate name for an older same-sex sibling
Arnaq: woman (also a common name for women)
Arnbitter: bitter herbal liqueur like Jägermeister or Fernet-Branca
Carlsberg, Classic: brands of Danish beer
French hotdog: a hotdog in which a sausage is inserted into a tunnel in a baguette usually served with a Dijon-based dressing
Hotel Godthåb: a bar in Nuuk named after the colonial Danish name for Nuuk
Iggu: sweet/cute, or ‘sweetie’
Ilimmarfik: the University of Greenland, situated in Nuuk
Inatsisartut: the parliament of Greenland
Inuk: human/man, mankind (also a common name for men)
Inuugit: live your life
Inuuneq: life
Inuunera: my life
Ivik/Ivinnguaq: a blade of grass (also a common name for women and men)
KNR: the national Greenlandic radio and TV station
Kolonihavnen: an old harbour from the colonial period (around the seventeenth century). Now a place for Sunday walks, sightseeing, artisanal shops, the national museum and national events
Kujallerpaat: a street name
Manhattan: nightclub in Nuuk
Naamik: no
Nuussuaq: a district of Nuuk
Qinngorput: a new district of Nuuk
Sermitsiaq: mountain outside Nuuk and the city’s landmark
Sermitsiaq.ag: website of a Greenlandic newspaper
Sticky pig’s tails: an inexpensive dish typically made from cheap meat
21 June: a national holiday
Last Night in Nuuk Page 10