My appointment was not until 10.45. I arrived 10 am only to realise no one was willing to attend to me till exactly 10.45 because there was a reason why I was asked to show up at 10.45 am! “Nehmen Sie bitte Platz.”. That was all the elderly woman behind the reception desk said to me after I´d made a huge mess introducing myself and my mission in the Privathochschule (private polytechnic). I evaluated my performance and realised I´ve just thrown around some German phrases that were really irrelevant to whatever I had to say and disjointedly weaved them together again achieving the most ridiculous expressions in situations like this. That was the moment I wished I could return one the idiotic language series I bought a few weeks before titled: “How to Learn German in Five Days”. (German Language for Idiots!)  

Lesson number one: Don’t read idiot books before going to Germany to sign a contract! Traditional former Eastern Germans lose their tempers easily at people like me who always mess with their beloved mother tongue. “Nehmen Sie bitte Platz.“ she said again, bitterly! Now her voice was raised, and a close look at her was a code red to me! She´d already turned red from ear to ear. Although I did not quite understand what she was saying but why should I keep standing face to face with a woman whose voice was rising, eyes dimming and face all red? Luckily this time, her “Nehmen Sie bitte Platz” was accompanied by a near violent gesticulation of hand waving at the direction of empty chairs. Even Stevie Wonder would now get it!

Still angry with myself for already failing the very litmus test I´d been practicing for two days, I rushed to the seat before she’d change her mind. Maybe this time she’d come out from behind that sacred reception desk, pinch-clutching at one of my ear lobes while dragging me to an empty seat screaming: “Sit down you idiot that takes pride in defacing our wonderful and noble German language!” From where I was sitting, I was still facing her. The more I tried to look elsewhere the more my mind told me to keep watch in case she’d carry out the ear lobe move. Still frowning, her eyes were nowhere else except on the wall clock ticking away in a slightly modulated noise. I followed her eye level only to realise what she was doing! The clock was ticking right above my head. I stared up above me, stretching my Adam’s apple, to realise I may have up to seventeen more minutes before anyone would talk to me.

From the first day I knew I’d be coming to live in Germany, I’ve performed every manner of researches including holding focus groups here and there. Apart from the beers and sausages, I was more concerned with the index of German precision. The average German is devoted to perfectionism and this quest for perfectionist-oriented existence is highly driven by another religious way of life called “Ordnung”. As an African I´ve always frowned at the so called African Time. This has almost become a sarcastic insult that I´ve made up my mind erasing such stereotypes by appearing unbelievably early to further appointments. But here in Germany, that is unaccepted! One must appear on the EXACT time! Your host is unhappy with you showing up early for appointments. And you´ll be severely punished if you try to be just a few minutes late!

I thought it was a joke when they say: when in Rome act like Romans! Here I am today in Germany, and heck, ja, I’d better replace the Roman thing by starting to find ways not just to act but avoid pissing the Germans off! Right now, I got myself into such an uncomfortable situation where the attitude of the only German facing me is scary. How can you be in the same room with a woman who is not talking to you, turning red and spending all the time watching the wall clock right above your head? Well, since I am now in Germany, let me do as the German woman is doing!

That was how I joined Frau Heike Stein (that’s what was written on her desk) in watching the three different hands of the nervous clock.

In the next fifteen minutes or so, I’d come up with a chronometric research that would make Einstein green with envy! I rediscovered the shortest hand of the clock never moved all the while I sat there. The longest hand was actually the one doing most of the moving with some arrogant noise that I thought was slight. Actually the noise got more intense now that I was focused on this German’s most favourite game. The minute hand finally moved again (fifteenth time) and then it was EXACTLY 10.45 am. Halleluiah! Heike lowered her gaze and jumped from her seat. I held my ears thinking she was coming to get one the lobes! Instead she breezed past me and rushed to a door. Without knocking, this red woman cracked it a bit open and yelled in the most angry voice: “Dein zehn Uhr fünfundvierzig ist schon da!”

A few months later I was to put all those sounds together to achieve the following result: your 10.45 is already here! Before she made that announcement, I was thinking there was a meeting inside that room. And that that meeting was supposed to end at exactly 10.45 am, and the lives of all the people in that meeting depended on 10.45 am. I then balanced in my seat awaiting the surge of a regular 10.45 troop, instead the tallest man I will ever see in my lifetime shot out from the room like a giant bullet off a smoking bazooka! He wore the most colourful suit I have ever seen, except for that fact that the suit appeared to be the tightest fitting suit in German history.

Hallo! Ich bin Hans Meyer. Wie geht es Ihnen?

I know I don’t understand German but come on; this should be the easiest German in the German vocabulary. Hello, I am Hans Meyer. The second sentence only proved that the idiot book I studied could ever be useful after all. How are you? My best resource was at this time handy, although still confusing trying to know when to address people with “dir” or “Ihnen”. Since Hans started with an “Ihnen” I am like: yeah, man! Let’s get it on with some “Ihnen”. After all, your first impression of Herr Hans is that of a very smart bookworm.

And it’s been quite easy noticing smart guys these days. Hans reads people’s minds I guess. As soon as he caught my eyes darting on and off the suffocating buttons around his stomach areas he came to everyone’s rescue. He carefully unbuttoned the tight suit and heaved a refreshing sigh of relief. He was standing but his head was a few inches away from the ceiling. I managed to move my gaze from his belly region to his piercing blue eyes which were almost covered with an umbrella kind of loose straight hairs. I finally jumped from my seat grabbing his palm as wide as a quarter of a table tennis board. Still recovering from my neck ache after watching the wall clock with Frau Heike Stein, it was quite a trauma trying to raise the same neck to look Hans in the face while he was greeting me. Some hairs were actually passing through his nose while a few kept standing near his lips. That was why Hans had acquired some irritating mannerisms of moving hairs which were trying to gain access to his mouth while he was talking or to his nostrils while he was breathing.

Hans stood there speed-talking tons of German expressions, moving his hands up and down not to help me understand, but to move hundreds of hairs impeding his speech speed. As he was uttering more sounds in his very fast German, I came to the conclusion that this guy wasn´t talking to me. Matter of fact I believed he was reciting some peculiar poetry to himself. This guy could be a new Schiller or Goethe convert, or maybe it feels good to some extremely tall Deutsche connecting to Bertolt Brecht at exactly 10.45 am every morning. With his lips still moving quickly and his hairs vibrating all over his head, I guess it was time I let Hans alone to commune with his literary ancestors. I gradually retraced my steps, found my seat and sat once more while awaiting Hans to round up his morning rituals!

Nein! Nicht da hinsetzen! Kommen Sie mit, bitte!

Heike was not even amused. Her attention was captured with Hans’ sudden change of tone. I figured out I shouldn’t sit in the reception area but come with him into the office. I dashed my gaze from Heike (whose expressionless face refuse to offer any tip) to Hans hoping to get any idea what on earth was really going on. I threw another look at Heike hoping she changed her mind and wink or raise an eyelid, anything to help! No way. She provided none acting as she herself seemed more confused than I was. I quickly avoided Heike’s curious eyes praying she wouldn’t escalate anything by calling the police. I quickly jumped on my feet and followed Hans who smiled for the first time all morning. Time 11.05.

Hallo Zubi! Ich bin Jana!

Hello, Jana?

Haben Sie uns gut gefunden mit dem Stadtplan in der E-Mail?

And I was completely silent.

German is an intimidating language. One needs a lot of confidence to even take an initial go at it. Jana’s hand and mine just left themselves in the first real handshake I finally got that morning.

Oh, I’m so sorry! I forgot you don’t speak German!

What a relief! After almost half an hour, someone finally figured it all out! I just flew in from Montreal last night and this morning, at exactly 10.45, a group of German people were already bombarding me with Dativ and Akkusativ germanistics! What a relief, people! What a relief! God bless Jana (Yanah)! I felt like delivered from the bottomless pit. I even felt better when Jana turned to Hans and tried my best to catch a word or two and see how I could use them to know a bit what she was telling him…

Er spricht kein Deutsch! Er kommt aus Kanada!

He speaks no English! He comes from Canada!

Hans mumbled a couple words and from my observation he had no regrets talking to me in German for over twenty minutes earlier. Hans did not understand how a grown man like me couldn’t understand simple German. Moreover, if one knew one would be coming to Germany at a certain stage of one’s life, what prevents one from studying German? And thirdly, why should it be his responsibility to start speaking English to me? Since I was already in Deutschland, I should be the one to start speaking German, and fast! I was upset! Very upset and I had a lot to say but, how does one start explaining his anger in a strange language? I urgently need to yell at Hans and curse him out! And finally reminded him how badly he needed a frigging barber!

Jana’s smiles comforted me. Thank God there are Janas in language schools! If Jana was a little bit of Heike maybe the whole school will be over flowing with policemen. I could have lost it and started kicking Hans’ ass. Maybe throw a couple ghetto-fabulous punches at few others who’d come for sympathetic ass kicking. Jana finally reassures Hans. He was convinced to settle down. How did she do that? I have no idea except that German language is a very important tool in crisis management. Jana politely asked if I wanted anything to drink? Coffee, tea or just water. Stupid me, I tried to be nice and asked for water! Well, you asked for it: she gave me a glass of water that I never drank. I refused drinking excited water fizzling and rioting inside some white glass! Later in my mission I was to understand there is a water tradition in Germany with tags like ohne, stilles, medium and mit Kohlensäure. All these expressions are also represented with water bottle colours …

The discussion between the language school represented by Jana (and to some extent, Hans) and I lasted less than forty five minutes. Five minutes for dialogues and forty minutes on paper works! Jana printed out my schedules and explained every task to the letter. She gave me a whole folder of papers that insisted on how to grade class tests, case studies and examinations. More papers on how to mark right answers right and wrong answers wrong. The rules are different in Germany. You make a long dash with a red pen for right answers and a funny F in bent cursive for wrong answers. There were more papers explaining how to explain every explanation that has been explained or need to be explained for the sake of its explanation!

More papers on how to award marks, papers on how to convert each mark into percentages and more and more papers to verify that I received all the papers that were in the huge folder. As if that was not enough, Jana opened another folder with more papers in various colours of plastic files! She said I needed a couple files to open a bank account. Why would one need over seven files of papers just to open one bank account? There were other neatly designed papers for taxes. I was tempted to close the folders and convince Jana there was no need. Jana confessed to me saying that was the most important yet complex aspect of the entire morning’s discussion. She advised I contacted a Steuerberaterin (female tax adviser) or a Steuerberater (male tax adviser) immediately and have them advise me regarding my tax status as a freelancer (Freiberufler), that is if I had no intention of going to jail anytime soon in Germany.

More folders kept appearing from nowhere till I made it obvious I was tired of all the papers! Jana in her very wonderful PR told me I was in Germany, the home and world headquarters of paper work. She said I should not worry because very soon, I was to join the queue and get used to it (she was right!). More papers were given to me for signatures. There were too many papers to sign, most of them papers confirming I had received some other papers. I didn’t even wait to either read through the papers nor cross check corresponding papers as advised by Jana. I started signing everything in sight! This little encounter had just awakened a kind of sleeping signing-signature obsession in me! I even signed all the folders on the table. Suddenlly, Hans´ table tennis hands held my hands when I started signing some copies of old magazines on the table!

Mann!

We have agreed on my salary. Since they were offering me German lessons as well, my income was not very much. Well, I was the one who chose to learn German after spending all my life learning English in my country, Nigeria and French in Montreal, Quebec (that is still threatening to leave Canada). I learnt a little Spanish when I worked in McDonalds sometime in Chicago although my vocabulary is limited to composition and counting of sandwiches, fries and queso! I thought I was happy with my meeting with Jana and Hans till I raised my accommodation issues. The language school was paying for my accommodation in a hostel and would stop after one month; then I was to take care of my own housing. This was unbelievable because if I’d to pay rent with whatever was remaining of my salary I would be the poorest black man in the history of Germany! Fortsetzung folgt. (To be continued.)

Robot  # 1 | 12.08.2008 20:52

My appointment was not until 10.45. I arrived 10 am only to reali...Read the full article.