Asi es la vida esse; the story about and by the son of criminal father
Chapter 6
Ever since I was a young kid at house number 17 I always wanted to learn new things, how things worked, why things were like they were. I don’t think I realised then that it was a spiritual thing. I was just interested. My mum gave me a series of books. They were science books for children. They were called “how does it work” followed by a topic. I had one about Tellus, one about mechanics and one about human body. I loved those books, specially the one about the body. I think it put me on an academic journey that is still continuing today. At school we had the choice of choosing language, cooking and “home chore class” something, and sports leadership. I picked French cos my blood sister studied French and my grandmother loved France and she spoke some French, she was really proud when my sister past the finals. So I thought I go down the same route. Yes sure, I just wanted to strangle the teacher, not that she was a bitch or any thing. Just that I didn’t get to know her. She walked in to the classroom going bonjour class, over enthusiastically, and I thought “oh my god”, and then she was going on. I only lasted 80 min of that, and then I changed to Sport leader ship. That was a good choice. I stared that class, the grade system was 1-5 and the teachers told me that if they could give me a 6 they would. For reference I was in the 8th year out of 9 at the time. My friends started to talk about confirmation; I didn’t know what it was cos my family are from the hippie culture so we didn’t talk about mainstream spiritualism. Anyway, everyone in my year had received an invitation. My mum didn’t tell me about this or I didn’t receive one, this pissed me of, cos again I had to be different from every one else. I was baptised in the central church when I was 1 year old so I was registered. I went to the local church and told them that I was to be confirmed too. I only did it to rebel, If they didn’t invite me but I have the right I should do it anyway even if they don’t like me or judging me. I joined and didn’t miss a session. I didn’t learn anything but there was a camp included and all the fit girls was doing the confirmation too so I paid more attention to them. The priest was cool. Not dry at all. Young and fit and I think all the mums loved him. I liked him too. There fore it was rather embarrassing when he found me in bed with one of the girls at the camp. He was cool about it, al he said was “Clarke go to your room” and the day after he arranged a meeting with all of us trying to explain that all of us need to behave. None of us listened as we were talking and ignoring him. Then he shouted, in Swedish equivalent to, “Shut the fuck up”. We did, but that quote became a catch phrase and lost its power. I got my confirmation. I didn’t feel like I achieved anything spiritually or politically.
My dad has one brother and one sister. I like them very much
My grandfather was from England everyone loved him, I did too. I have always felt like an outsider in almost everything including my family. Maybe because there was nothing “normal” going on at house number 17 or 32 so people didn’t want to come around. I had to go to my family if I wanted to see them. My grandpa only came to visit two or three times, as I can remember, and it was on “not taking of the jacket” terms. I don’t think my grandmother ever visited, but she had bad health so I completely understand. I visited her a lot. She was nice to me and I liked being there. But when my cousin came to me to tell me that she past away I didn’t really feel anything. The same with my grandpa, I wanted to be upset and I wondered what was wrong with me. I do wish that my grandfather was still alive now when I live in UK, maybe we would have a stronger connection and maybe then I would have cried on the funeral. I miss him.
My uncle was a wild one, his reputation even affected me with the police and mothers having daughters I was interested in. Every time the police questioned me the first thing they would always say was “Jimi, are you your uncles son”? I would say no, knowing what’s coming next, “ok, so you are your father’s son”? I say yes and they would look at each other or fill the younger generation copper in on the history, then pull a facial expression saying you little shit do we have to deal with you from now on. First time I thought it was cool that they knew me even if I didn’t know them. I was questioned for something I hadn’t done and I thought I was being helpful and polite in order for them to get to the bottom of the crime they were investigating. But as soon as I said my name I had already lost. So that just reminded me of the axe incident and I concluded that coppers are arseholes and its better not to show any kind of need to help them. I later found out, from a member of the Tae Kwon Do club, he also was involved in youth programmes and running a gym. The police had told him that they had been using the resources from the spy department following me and keeping records since I was living at house number 32. They had told him that I was a lost cause, and that he should not bother too much with me. This was three years after I moved from house number 32.
But it was not only the police I had to deal with. Some mums didn’t like me either, as soon as they heard my family name. I was on the bus once with a friend, then I spotted a very cute girl and she got of at a rich area. I really wanted to talk to her, so my friend and I got of after her and followed her to the house and rang her doorbell. Her mum opened the door. I asked to speak with the girl and she said. “I recognise you what’s your name”? “Jimi family name” with a smile. Are you your uncle’s son? She asked. I was thinking “what the fuck man” and my friend were laughing. After concluding that I was my dad’s son I could speak to her daughter. It turned out that the mum was an old girl friend to my uncle and obviously her heart was broken and she didn’t want the same thing happen to her daughter. The same thing happened again a few years later a girl was all over me. She took me home, I was in her bed and her mum had asked her whom she was with. Jimi so and so, she said. Then the girl told me that her mum doesn’t allow any of that family in her house. But all respect to my uncle player. He’s got a couple of kids, a girl who has three of her own kids now, a son whose about 20 years, and a teenager son here in England.
author is the son of former criminal father
to be continued
exkriminell
