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Stefan had returned with considerable probability to liquor and hash when he cleaned out the shed last summer.
But he was given a more sensible alternative than the park bench and chilly nights on the Pelican-shaped stairs, a supported accommodation in Södermalm.
– This is a favor. A rescue. They have given me a second chance.
He is 54 years old, slim, a bit worn, born in Södersjukhuset and tells of a Stockholm woman who should be exhibited at Skansen before it is completely extinct.
The cafe in the basement has closed due to the crown, but there is more to do here, television to watch, and a future to look forward to.
Okay, relapse in October, a few beers in the system, another couple at Bellman’s pizzeria in Götgatan was stupid, but it was over in five hours. Since then it is white.
East South, renamed Painful Outlandish stiffness of some astute publicist who dreams of New York, the neighborhood where condos are expensive and more than is useful for the image of the left and art and worldliness vote for the Swedish Democrats.
I have lived across the street for many years. From the Pelican there is sound 24 hours a day. On the fifth floor, someone plays opera in the middle of the night. Further down the house, a disco ball on the ceiling sends all kinds of colors to Östgötagatan.
Men with whom life has passed carelessly walk in and out of the door. Things are happening, not everything seems to be legal.
Sometimes an ambulance comes and takes an old man away.
The little over 30 square meter apartment sits in a long, bare hallway. On the table is a plate of half hydrogen with pasta and minced meat sauce. The sink is full of cups and glasses. The ashtray would feel good if it was emptied.
Photo: MAGNUS WENNMAN
Stefan, 54, together with Oisín Cantwell from Aftonbladet at the Pelikanen supportive home at Södermalm in Stockholm.
Stefan has an internshipHe cleans the streets of Söder, if he takes care of himself he will keep the job.
– My teenage daughters are disappointed in me for everything I have done. I understand them.But for them I will stay sober.
He smoked hashish for the first time at age 14. “Since then he has put on a few kilos.” A statement that there is no reason to question.
Life was a party, but somewhere a wrong turn was taken and the descent was steep and the brake turned out to leave much to be desired.
His recent incarceration was his first. One year for aggravated battery and aggravated battery. He flogged a man who tried to steal his dead mother’s silver and also groped the neighbor’s daughter.
– I was the one who called the ambulance. The district court determined that extenuating circumstances existed.
He has lived in Pelikanen, which has existed since the Söderhem association in 1927 received land and a commission to build a home for homeless people, since January. Here he trains himself to manage himself.
– I continue. But I thrive here. It is quiet and pleasant.
It has not always been this way. A year ago, it was useless. Ask Robert, who runs the grocery store on the corner.
You have a problem with a thumb. Reduced mobility. Some tendons smoked in connection with the arrest of two men who had stolen meat.
– They didn’t live at home. But their polar bears do.
We are in the warehouse. Deliveries have just arrived. Vegetables from floor to ceiling in carts.
– Hardly a day goes by without us giving him an outburst. Not everyone comes from the accommodation, but those who live there attract a clientele.
Robert has worked here since -93. The environment has changed. Before, they were mostly Southerners. Gapy, full, but harmless. Then came the drug addicts.
– There are still decent people living in the house. But it has gotten tougher. My young employees have felt insecure. The police were here twice a day.
Photo: MAGNUS WENNMAN
“Hardly a day goes by without us taking an outburst. Not everyone comes from the lodging, but those who live there attract a clientele,” says shopkeeper Robert who has worked at the corner store since -93.
He has spoken to politicians. The benches in the park next door should disappear. There are the addicts. Syringes are thrown away. Kindergarten groups are taking a different path. Retirees stay away.
– They used to have concrete benches. Backless. Then it was calmer. But they are replaced.
“This is how criminals have terrorized Sofo”, was the dramatic headline on a local bubble a few years ago.
The article was about the Pelican. I did not believe my eyes. He feels nothing that comes close to fear. Neither did my neighbors.
Yes I know. An evening newspaper journalist has reason not to sit on horses that are too high compared to the alarming headlines in other media. Stones in glass houses, elephants in china shops, hypocrisy, whatever.
But the description was not fair. Not against a group of people who are already at the bottom of all the hierarchies that can be found. Nor against section chief Ulrika Olofsson-Walles and her ambitious staff.
However, the business is not without its problems. Robert, the owner of the grocery store, doesn’t lie.
At the same time: everyone testifies that he has improved significantly. Police, neighbors, Robert at the grocery store, other neighborhood store owners.
Accommodation employees he has worked hard. At the reception now someone is sitting even at night. It has taken effect.
There is zero tolerance for abuse in the home. Do not drink or take drugs. A prohibition that may not be fully respected by people who in their life have not shown much interest in following the laws and regulations.
But the big problem has been the Poles. Who comes to visit. That can intrude.
– There have been amphetamines here. But now it has calmed down, says Stefan.
A Hammarby shirt hangs on the wall. Soccer is the great interest. “But I’ve probably seen more games with AIK. My friends are in Gnaget.”
He’s one of those Southerners that you never talk about.
Not in the online forums where the district is said to be a cultural Marxist mecca where feminists, gays, and other junkies of nasty goodness have taken power.
Nor in the lifestyle magazines where the successful couple with their creative professions greets at the turn of the century and proudly tells about a life full of travel, yoga, and sourdough bread.
Of course, there is some truth to these two cliches. But it often, if not always, does so in cliches.
Another truth is that the moderates became the second largest party in Södermalm in the 18th parliamentary elections. Or that there are many rental apartments where plumbers and auxiliary nurses live and others who have never had reason to complain about defense taxes. .
This is an island with as many inhabitants, just over 130,000, as a medium-sized Swedish city. Bigger than Umeå, smaller than Jönköping.
And at the Pelican, everyone has been represented. The broken knee. The young immigrant. The engineer in the wrinkled suit who, with his briefcase convulsively in hand, says that he is temporarily insolvent and will soon be back on his feet.
About 30 percent of those who pass the accommodation are responsible for saving their lives. Tall or short figure? I guess it’s in the eye of the beholder.
There is chaos in the area. But mostly for reasons other than this business. It’s a happy, tavern-friendly party.
One Friday night around here it was unusually loud. I went down the street to see what happened. A man had beaten his wife, she was crying, someone called the police.
The guy who went to bed was chased down the street. Police arrived. The abuser was arrested. The woman tried to free him.
A figure came out of the house, barefoot, bare-chested in the autumn chill. It was stitched just for speed.
Suddenly, Karolina Ramqvist, the author, a friend of mine, came walking. We stood up and talked. An old man in a naked coat passed by and hissed, “Is someone still loose?” with a private scout voice.
Now several weeks have passed, and outside the store, someone has thrown an empty package that probably contained prepared food. The spoon remains.
The apartments have been rented since the 1980s by SHIS bostäder, the social housing resource of the city of Stockholm. About 50 properties around the municipality are included in the portfolio.
One of the houses is located in Östermalm. And that business will slow down again. No one will admit that these houses should preferably not be located in the most beautiful part of the city. No one will believe the guarantees that it is a coincidence that it is as it is.
Stefan has a bed, a table and a large television. Its on. A young woman sings in English about something called love.
On a shelf are photos of the daughters. Both have held the crown, but they quickly recovered again.
– My ex-wife got infected in March. You still get a fever as soon as you strain.
This is not where the angels sing sadly about the virus. It is not from here that Löfven and Tegnell broadcast their press conferences. It is not in the closed cafe in the basement that the curves for the spread of infection are drawn and the deaths are counted.
Stefan asks me to follow him to the bathroom, he wants to show a hole in the ceiling.
– Water leak a few nights ago. It was like Niagara Falls to the ground. But it’s okay.
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