the kenyan saga, posted in original form

19Jun10

(it was a few posts, and some were written drunk, forgive me)

Post 1– I promise, I’ll read my dash later

But DAMN. It seems the only way fate wants me to watch a game is drunk. (But this time? Not drunk enough to ignore spelling. HAH)

Serbia’s goaltender is AMAZING, I’ll give him that. Even if my soul aches for Deutchland.

If you haven’t figured it out, I’ve drunk a bit. I went to get a 2.50 Dönar Kebab at Nollendorf, but Fate decded I’d see the Kenyan man who I smiled at (and heute, he tells me “I thought, perhaps, she was smoking the ganja…”) in the U-Bahn, and he offers to buy me ein bier. And another. And another. Until, I have four biers (three Beck. which I happen to like, and one Radeberger Pilsner, which is bitter and somehow very gut) And he and I are arguing in a mismash of German and English about this gelb Karte, and the ROT KARTE, we were furious, and I apologize for the mismash of Dinglish but I can’t keep the words straight in my head. And I offered, every time, to buy my own drink. “no, is a pleasure to talk in English!” He gave me his number, but very nicely, did not ask me to call him, or even ask for mein. He did not walk me home (which I very much appriciated, simply because at this point I’m drunk and cannot figure out what is quite right and what it too much), but did offer Deutch Lessons and a Kaffe if I felt like calling him.

From the beginning: I went for a Dönar Kebab. While there, sitting down, a man comes up to me and says, I remember you! You smiled at me in the U-Bahn. His name is Neo (hah!) and he is from Kenya, and he offered me beer and cigarrettes. after asseting that yes, he was indeed serious, no, I don’t smoke much anymore, he bought me a Beck’s. And, whenever mind or his ran out, he would buy another, and we would toast to something. Germany. Serbia’s goalkeeper. He works at a hospital, and told me a bit about living in Deutchland. We watched the game, and he taught me some German (shadow, fast…), we watched the game and bet on the outcome. He told me, I had the orangen bag and the Beck’s hidden (after the Irish pub game), and he remembered me. At the point? Little creeped out. I thought, don’;t accept the bier, don’t let yourself into this.. but relented, and said, one is okay. And he kept buying, but never ever asked where I lived in Berlin, keeping the conversation interesting and fresh. Honestly, he was a perfect gentleman, and never did anything untoweoed. He just bought me a lot (A LOT) of bier. Und ein kleiner Feigling, right before we separated.  The little bottle is adorable. But, anyways, he explained things that I had trouble with, and was a great conversationalist, in both Deutch und English, when neither of us knew the German. I don’t feel like he was cruising for sex (I may have implied I had ein Frau.. but I live on Motzstraße, so this is almost expected!)

It occurs to me that, really, this is the first time any man or woman has legally bought drinks for me, which will make a great story.

So. Life is interesting? Today, I bough erberry (strawberries) for 2.90 Euro (500g of them?) and a croissant and kebab. I have drunk a lot, but never more than I can safely handle (no whirlies, no movionweirdness, I can walk and speak fine, just oddthoughts) and oddest of all, I’m meeting my classmate who has a hard-on for God in 45 minutes, and need to hide the drunk. Hummm.

Post two, in response to Tina saying “This story is even more amazing because I’ve never known a Kenyan to be friendly

Huh, he was the most amiable man, even more so after it became quite clear I wasn’t going to go home with him. (Which was odd to clarify, but, since he kept buying me drinks, I felt the need to clear the air. He just laughed and said, “I do this because you are student, and I enjoy speaking English”)

But he was nothing if not friendly, explaining and translating German for me, and giving me beer and offering cigs. We had great conversation, linguistics in English verses Deutch verses the bit of Russian he knew, working at airports and hospitals. I think at some point he mentioned that he had been in Berlin eight years now, and would try another country soon. He told me a bit about Ampsterdam and Russia, but never really mentioned Kenya other than when I introduced myself as “Kate, the American” “Neo, from Kenya” I’d guess he was in his late thirties or early forties.

What was/were the person/people you met like?

(Response:Sounds like a very interesting character. I visited Kenya a few years ago and they’re just not friendly toward strangers or each other. Smiles are always met with scowls. Some one from there explained it to us as “Kenyans are so afraid of other people that we don’t even bother.”)

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