9789180808118

Thegirland thewar

TheGirland theWar

by AnnelieKarlsson

illustratedby

Anna-Carin Svanå

© 2019, 2025 by Annelie Karlsson.

Originally publishedinSwedish by WistoriesPublishingHouse with original title: Flickanoch kriget.All rights reserved.

Cover design:JohannaGlemboand Anna-Carin Svanå, 2019.

Illustrations:Anna-Carin Svanå, 2019.

Englishtranslation:Linda Day, 2023.

Publisher: BoD· BooksonDemand, Östermalmstorg 1, 11442Stockholm,Sweden, bod@bod.se

Printer: LibriPlureos GmbH, Friedensallee273,22763 Hamburg, Germany

ISBN: 978-91-8080-811-8.

Chapter1

It’s on.Year6against year 7, andno-oneonbreak duty nearby.Antonio watchesfromthe othersideofthe pitch as oneofthe Year 7s runs towardsMajid;the newboy in class, whogetsahardtackleand an elbowinhis side,so he losesthe ball.The bigger boygrins at Majid, shakes hisheadand says somethingtohim.

Teammate Nora is quicklyinpositionand takesover theattackfor the6s. Nowshe’s aloneinfront of the goal,markedbyseveral opponents. As fast as hislegs cancarry him, Antoniorunsupthe left wing.The pass comesatexactly theright moment,allowinghim to receivethe ball at speed. Adribble past theopponents andhepassesthe ball onto Majidwho hasjustarrived. Andthen: GOAL!Antonio throws hishands in theair, jumps, andshrieks with pleasure andturns towards Majid. Buthe doesn’tseempleased,and he doesn’tdo anything to celebratethe goal.

Theopposingteamgathers to talk tacticsand theYear 6s team leader suggests they do thesame. Thefriends standinacircle, andsomeone callsfor Majidwho is dawdling furtherawayonthe pitch.

“Oh, nevermindhim,” says else.“He doesn’tget what we inganyway. He probably th he’s Zlatan just becauseheg alucky goal.”

never mind him,” e . “He doesn’t get we’r yg anyway.

’s atan st because he go

eryone , apart toni wants to sa some ing in Majid’s t he’s afraid to. An o looks his new friend. The sh

Everyone laughs,apart from Antonio. He wantstos somethinginMajid’s defenc buthe’safraidto. Antoniol over at hisnew friend.The boywiththe thick, blackhairand thosebig dark eyes.

Just then,the bell goes.The matchisover, andthe children wander back into school.Antonio andMajid walk side by side.

s out a fi wi cr l onto his . It tickles qu kly moves the two clear he’s angry; s whole body is tense, and his hands are balled into

Ared ladybird haslandedonMajid’s shoulder.Antonio reachesout afinger so it will crawlontohis hand.Ittickles as it quicklymoves across thebackofhis hand.The boyfromthe opposing team whotackled Majidruns up to thetwo friends. It’s clearhe’sangry; hiswhole bodyistense,and hishands areballedinto fists.Maybe that’s notsostrange afterjustlosingthe match, thinks Antonio. There’ssomething else though,a look in hiseyes. It’s cold as ice.

Theladybirdspreads itswings andflies away.

“Where do youcomefrom?”asksthe boywiththe ice-cold stareand glares at Majid.

”Syria,” answersMajid quietlyastheycontinuetowalk.

Asneeringlaugh erupts as theboy with theicy stare mimics Majid’saccentbeforescornfullyadding: “Gohometoyourown country! Youdon’t fit in here; youcan’t even speakSwedish properly.So, leave!”

Majidcontinues to straight ahead, as if can’tsee or hear th boy. Antonio’sstoma turnsand he hesitates; should do something. Starespits on thegro andturns towardsh classroom. At thes moment,Majid stopsb fore turningand runnin away from theschool. tearsoverthe football andintothe nearby fore teacherwho sawwha penedfollows him. When theschool da over,Antonio hurrie to putonhis shoes. d continues e he can’t see the Antonio’s stomach s and he tate he in e spits e gr nd d turns wards his the same nt, Majid stops betu g and nnin the school. He s over the h d into the her who saw what hapthe school is over, Antonio hurries

“Bye,Miss!”heshoutsand slings hisbag over his shoulder.

He’s goingtoNanaHella’s afterschooltoday.She always hasfreshly bakedcinnamonbuns, andAntonio thinks they’rethe best things in theworld.

Antonio’slittlesisterLiv goes to anursery school nearby. He collects heronthe way. Thenursery’s garden is full of children wearingday-glowvests in an assortment of colours. They’replaying loudly.There’s alittleboy sitting in thesandpit eating sand andbythe swings,someonehas just fallen andhurttheir knee.Liv is already standing at thegatewaiting.She is lookingforward to cinnamon buns,too.

Thesun is shining. Itswarmthmakes Antoniotakeoff hisjacket. Spring is here;the treesare green, andthe flowers arestartingto bloom. Adandelion hasbroken itsway throughthe concrete in thepavementand seems to be reaching up to thesky.But Antoniobarelynotices. He can’tstopthinkingabout Majid, andabout Syria. Do they have ladybirdsthere?

Livpicks whiteflowersgrowing by thesideofthe path.The children hear someonemowingtheir lawn a bitfurther away.There isn’ta single carinsight in the narrow lane betweenthe houses,and no people either; no oneapart from Antonioand Liv. Atabby catpeeks outfromunder abush. Livquickly stepstowards the

catand dropsdownontoher kneeswithher hand out, butitscurriesaway.

“You scared it,” Antoniotells hissister.

“But Isat down!” answersLiv stroppilyasshe sticks outher chin andkeeps walking.

Livstartsrunning as they arrive at theyellowhouse they’vevisited so many timesbeforeand racesthe short distance to thedoor. Shealwayshas to be first.Through theopenkitchen window,theyhearsoundsfromthe radioand theclinkingofcrockery. Thesmell of Hella’s baking drifts allthe wayout to theroad.

Livthrowsopenthe door withoutknocking, and breathlessly sighs“hello”.

“Hello,mylittledarlings!”calls Hellaasshe comes outintothe hall.“You’re just in time.” Nana Hella’sreal name is Helena,and she’soverninetyyears old.

She’sreallythe children’s greatGrandmother;their mum’sgrandma,and Grandpa’smum.But everyone always just callsher Nana Hella. Even though herbody isn’tasstrongasitusedtobe, there’sfightinthe old girl yet, shealwayssays.

Nana Hellaloves when thechildrencometovisit.She oftensaysthat, in herfunny way. Hellacomes from Poland andsometimes thechildrenthink shesaysstrange things.Sometimes it sounds so funnytheyburst out laughing when shesaysthe wrongword. Butthat’sOK. Hellasaysit’sbecause shesometimes mixesupSwedish andPolish.

Thehouse is full of furnitureand thereare things all over theplace.There areornaments andtrinketseverywhere, andbowls andflowerpots standing on small, crochetedtablecloths.Onthe floor,there aresoftrugs with colourfulpatterns, andthe radiointhe kitchenis always on.Liv recognises thesongthatstartsplaying as they come in andtakes afew dancesteps in frontofthe mirror in thehall. Sheknocksavasewithher hand but managestocatch it just before it fallstothe floor.She puts it back in itsplace andgoesintothe living room.

When siblings Antonio and Liv come home from school and telltheir great-grandmother about their day, she says something theynever could have imagined. Todaythey will learn about her life during the war, before she came to Sweden. Thisisthe true storyofHella,a Polish girlwho was capturedbythe Nazisand sent to aconcentration camp.

Helena“Hella” Glowacki (laterKarlsson) survived theHolocaust andcame toSweden after the Second World War. She livedtobeninety-three yearsold (1923–2017) and oftensharedher experiences.

This story is written by Hella’s granddaughter, Annelie, to pass on herhistoryand remember what happened. eg nd