“Of course immigration can cause problems,” the woman continued, her eyes on her husband. “That’s nothing new. It happens all over the world. The crucial thing is to help people adapt, though of course they have to show a willingness to adapt themselves if they really want a future in Iceland.”
“What’s the worst sort of thing you hear?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
“Fuck off home, Thai bitch.”
She came right out with it, without the slightest hesitation or sign of the impact such words might have on her. As if she had been asked this before and had developed a thick skin to such abuse. As if it was just another fact of life. Kari darted a glance at his mother.
“Do you get the impression that prejudice is on the rise?”
“I don’t know,” the man said.
“Do you experience prejudice at school?” Sigurdur Oli asked the boy.
Kari hesitated.
“No-o,” he said uncertainly.
“I don’t think you can really expect him to admit to that sort of thing,” the man said. “No one likes telling tales. Especially not after such a terrible thing has happened.”
“Some other kids have claimed that Kari and his friends are peddling dope at the school. They said it without hesitation.”
“Who said that?” the woman asked.
“It’s just something we’ve heard,” Sigurdur Oli said. “There’s probably no need to take it too seriously at this stage. And I can tell you that the witness was not very reliable.”
“I’ve never sold any drugs,” Kari said.
“What about your friends?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
“No, they haven’t either.”
“And Niran?”
“None of us have,” Kari said. “It’s a lie. We’ve never sold any drugs. They’re lying.”
“Kari doesn’t do drugs,” his father said. “It’s out of the question. He doesn’t sell drugs either.”
“You would know, would you?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
“Yes, we would,” the man replied.
“Tell us about the trouble at school that we’ve been hearing about,” Sigurdur Oli said. “What’s really going on?”
Kari stared down at the floor.
“Tell them what you know,” his mother said. “He hasn’t been very happy at school this winter. Some days he hasn’t wanted to go in. He thinks people are lying in wait for him, that some of the boys have got it in for him and want to attack him.”
“Mum!” Kari protested, looking at his mother as if she was giving away embarrassing secrets.
“One of Kari’s friends was beaten up,” her husband said. “The school authorities can’t seem to do a thing. When there’s trouble it seems they’re powerless to act. A boy was suspended for a few days, that was it.”
“The school claims there’s no overt racism or tension,” Sigurdur Oli said. “No trouble or fighting beyond what you’d usually expect in a large school. I take it you wouldn’t agree with that, judging from what Kari has told you?”
The man shrugged.
“What about Niran?”
“They often have a tough time, boys like Niran,” the woman said. “It’s not easy for them to adjust to a totally alien and remote culture, learn a difficult language, face open hostility, and so on.”
“They can get into trouble,” her husband added.
“Can you tell us anything about that, Kari?”
Kari cleared his throat awkwardly. Sigurdur Oli thought, not for the first time, that it was often better to talk to kids without their parents present.
“I don’t know if you understand the seriousness of the matter,” Sigurdur Oli said.
“I think he understands perfectly well what’s at stake,” the man said.
“I would be very grateful if you could help us.”
Kari looked from his parents to Sigurdur Oli.
“I don’t know how he died,” he said. “I didn’t know Elias at all. He didn’t spend much time with Niran. Niran didn’t want him tagging along. He was much younger as well. But Niran looked after Elias. Made sure no one bullied him. I have no idea how he died. I don’t know who attacked him. None of us know. No one knows what happened. And we haven’t a clue what became of Niran that day.”
“How did you get to know Niran?”
Kari sighed. He described his first meeting with the new boy at school. Niran was put in his form and they soon got to know each other as both were the sons of immigrants. Kari had moved to the neighbourhood fairly recently himself and although he had made some good friends who were not from ethnic minorities, he also knew two boys of Filipino origin and one from Vietnam. They in turn were acquainted with Niran’s mates from his old school. Niran quickly became the leader of the gang and fed them various facts about what he called their status as the children of immigrants. They were neither nor. They weren’t Icelandic. Couldn’t be even if they wanted to. To the majority of people they were foreigners, even if they were born in Iceland. Most had experienced prejudice directed at themselves or their families: stares, name-calling, even outright hostility.
Niran was not an Icelander and had no interest in becoming one, but living up here in the Arctic meant that he could hardly call himself Thai either. He realised that he was neither. He belonged to neither country, belonged nowhere except in some invisible, intangible no man’s land. Previously he had never had to think about where he came from. He was a Thai, born in Thailand. Now he drew strength from the company of other immigrant children with similar backgrounds and made his best friends among them. He became fascinated with his heritage, with the history of Thailand and the story of his ancestors. The feeling had only intensified when he got to know other, older immigrant children at his last school.
“We gather that he didn’t have a very good relationship with his stepfather,” Sigurdur Oli said.
“That’s right,” Kari said.
“Any idea why?”
Kari shrugged.
“Niran said he was glad about the divorce because then he wouldn’t have to see him any more.”
“Do you know anything about a man Sunee knows, possibly a boyfriend?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
“No.”
“Did Niran never mention that she was seeing someone?”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t know anything about that”
“Where did you last see Niran?”
“I’ve been ill, so I haven’t been to school. I haven’t talked to the lads. I last saw Niran a few days ago. We hung out together for a bit after school, then went home.”
“By the chemist’s?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you always hanging out by the chemist’s?”
“You know, we just meet there sometimes. We don’t do anything.”
“What do you usually get up to during the day?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
“Just chill out, mess around, rent a video, play football, whatever we feel like, really. Go to the movies.”
“Do you think Niran did something to his brother?”
“You can’t expect him to answer a question like that,” Kari’s father interrupted. “That’s outrageous.”
“No way,” Kari said. “He’d never hurt Elias. I’m certain of it. He always took care of Elias, he was always nice about him.”
“You got into fights at school and here in the neighbourhood, can you tell me about that?” Sigurdur Oli asked. “And one of your friends was beaten up, you say? Were you afraid of going to school?”
“It wasn’t anything serious,” Kari said. “It’s just… sometimes there’s a bit of aggro and I don’t want to get involved. I just want to be left alone.”
“Did you tell that to Niran and the lads?”
“No.”
“Who’s head of the other gang?” Sigurdur Oli asked. “If Niran’s your leader?”
Kari did not reply.
“Don’t you want to tell us?”
He shook his head.
“There are no leaders,” he said. “Niran wasn’t our leader. We’re just a bunch of mates.”