Uncensored tales from Germany (Part 1)

German women. That should be the starting point of this much awaited post. But what shall I say of women who made the 12 of us visiting fall in love with a ridiculously expensive and cold city, Hamburg? Can I write about their beautiful, eager and curious smiles? Can I write about their raw beauty, humour or reckless smoking? Can I write about their terrifying silence at times? Can I write about them in all honesty without any sense flattery when they were more than kind to us? I hope to hack it.

Might I have found love in Germany, given my unsuccessful dealings with Kenyan women? One can only be single for too long, before you get back to business. Can I succeed? Well before I answer all these, I must dispense with a few things preceding this much anticipated trip as well as my experiences in Germany, shall I?

This trip was going to be my last engagement with the University of Nairobi, where I have been pursuing my BA in Language & Communication and Literature for the past four years. Over the time, I have had my highs and lows both a student and a ‘quasi’ student leader.

So when I saw the notice that DAAD (Germany Academic Exchange Programme) will be sponsoring a trip to Europe sometime in the year, I never hesitated. They needed three things; academic merit, be a literature student and the ability to raise the air ticket, something in the neighborhood of $ 1000. All the three were doable, or so I thought and I applied. My application went through and that is how I ended up in Germany, but not after being undone by the Murphy’s Law all through.

Murphy’s Law screwing me from behind big time
As Murphy’s Law states, if things can go wrong, they will. Actually mine have been spinning out of control on and on and on and on. Never before in my life have I ever had a long streak of bad luck like in this trip. I waited for the better turn of things but so far so good, no such lucky.

I trusted friends with money, I had hoped to be my air ticket, they screwed, nay, fucked me up big time, meaning I had to run into debts to secure the air ticket within the stipulated really short time. All my debtors suddenly switched off their phones and developed practiced amnesia. In deed debtors have generally a bad memory than creditors. The Swahili said, ‘kukopa harusi, kulipa matanga(borrowing is a wedding, paying a funeral).

Secondly, I foolishly lost my beloved laptop alongside the best collection of music ever collected by any individual in an incident tied to this trip. Thirdly on the day of traveling, I lose my traveling bag and was forced to travel with a cheap canvas bag that kept coming off after every arrival. Airport guys ought to learn how to handle luggage. Period. It made the trip, awfully burdensome.

Fourth, while in Germany, at Hamburg to be precise I lost my phone. A nine month old Ideos that had become an indispensable part of me and a source of livelihood many a time. Here is the thing, for a drunkard like me who drinks in insecure drinking dens in slums in the Eastlands where drinks gets spiked and losing phone part of the weekly drinking experience, losing a phone in a country like Germany is an act of unforgivable foolishness. So clearly, lady luck had taken a leave when I applied for the trip hence my stream of bad luck.

Fifth, my boy Plato couldn’t travel with me because of professional commitments, meaning that I traveled with a group that I am largely unfamiliar with, given that I am already out of campus. I needed my boy Plato or Bon-I so that we could teach the Germany girls a couple things about Kenya men

Finally, I arrived in Nairobi to discover an Ideos now goes for 9K, how ridiculous can it get. Now I have to make do with a makeshift Nokia 1110.

But enough of complaints, brighter side now…

Dubai at Night
Here is the thing, if you have a woman you have hots on and she just can’t bring it on, take an overnight flight to Dubai and have a skyline view of Dubai at night, if she won’t give it to you then, drop her. Period. The view is exhilarating. Breathtaking. Erotic. Sexy. It can turn one on.

I woke at around 4.30am and apparently we were on our way into Dubai. The yellow street lights connecting the huge bustling Metropolis made it look like an endless night club where an orgy is taking place. I thought that we would be in Dubai in 20 minutes but it was to be another long one hour of experiencing a very voyeuristic sight that almost gave me a hard on, or did it?

Dubai airport is something else. It is infinitely bigger than JKIA. It will pale in comparison and to make it simple for those who have never been there; it is like 50 Nakumatt Westgate combined. It is one big shopping mall with numerous goods, but you will need money, plenty of it. If you arrive with your girlfriend here, feign sickness or food poisoning and remain glued in the waiting bay. She will run you broke, take my word for it. But some good designer perfumes and colognes like that going on there like that.

At Hamburg, the girls, the university and the city
We arrive at Hamburg Airport to a chilly, nightly and sickly weather. The skyline view of the rich wintry clouds is amazing. A sight to behold. We are checked in with an old immigration officer who humors us and at the first impression dispels the myth that Germans are one unsmiling lot. It is quicker than it happens at JKIA and we pick our luggage and received by two sweet girls, Julia and Christine. They are kind and understanding. They speak impeccable English and our second worst fear that Germans hardly speak any English, is addressed. It was easier for them to spot us, given we were the only group of Africans who had arrived in a bunch and looked overwhelmed to be in a foreign country, most certainly in Germany.

They tell us to wait for 30 minutes before our tour guide could arrive. The third assumption that the Germans are meticulous with time is dispelled. We ease into some into some easy conversation and the German girls, I think three or four of them are genuinely eager and excited to have us around. Our tour guide arrived in good time to humour us into the Hamburg city and he kept us laughing throughout the trip, and I will miss him.

It looks like it is gonna be an eventful trip from the get-go.. And eventful it was.

That very evening, without due consideration to the jetlag, we are taken on a tour to Hamburg with a very funny tour guide who took us through a physical and historical journey of the famed city. It is wonderful, but it feels like Limuru at 5 am. We aren’t exactly enjoying since our feet are numbing already and out teeth engaged in an orgy, characteristic of childhood days when we used to play in the rain, you remember that involuntary shivering?

The mention of St Pauli, Hamburg’s answer to our Koinange excites the men in the group, but for the two or three saved. The women are excited too, but we have our lady professor and some are too prudish. So we can only be shown the abandoned streets and we don’t get the chance to see it in action. I prompted some lady later on to take me to one of those sex kinos or St Pauli but she vehemently declined without giving any room to convince her otherwise. Poor Silas.

The following days we were to attend classes and interact with the ladies some more. Other than Christine and Julia, we get to meet other lovely girls. There is Verina, Jane, Anika, Svenia, Janeke, Maria, Anna alongside others whom I can’t get the names in this lonely night as I type all these.

These girls are more than lovely. Warm and beautiful. The type you can marry. The type you can present to your mother comfortably. Unlike skinny girls from the West, they meet the all the basic demands of any African man. Think a Luhyia lady in her element and there most outstanding physical feature. They are tall, well-fed, which is a good sign that you will never starve. They are practical, intelligent and well bred. My type of women. Can I have one?

My friend George, actually was hit by thunderbolt (remember the Godfather when Michael was in Sicily). One of the girls has a Tanzanian mother and a German father and as already noted in a previous blog, any kid by a white father and a black mother is an absolute piece of art. Take my word for it. I have seen seven such, fortunately done by German men and you gotta like the kids. I am yet to witness one by a black man and white German girl, but give me 12 months and I will offer give photographic evidence right here…

George is so taken by the girl that he literary drools. Call it love at first sight. Serendipity on his part. I swear he can give anything in the world to have her. Tough luck good old George. I have been there, done it, come for advice ol’ George.

Our days in Hamburg are numbered and come Friday, a lady called Zawadi (don’t ask me her German name, she sought anonymity) hosts us for dinner at her flat. A decently furnished house with enough electronics as much as a college girl can afford.

Now Zawadi is something else. A different girl. I think I need another 1200-worded blog for her. She has the morals and attitude of Caroline Mutoko, when she is not being bitchy on national radio and a Cess Mutungi’s voice and forthrightness. She is 24, speaks her mind and swears every time she is upset, which just happens every time. So the F-word and the B-word are part of her daily lexicon.

Zawadi is instantly likable because of her quirkiness and given she is funny to be with, no end. You don’t know what she is going to say next and you have to be extremely cautious when dealing with her. She doesn’t suffer fools, because she is not a fool and neither are all German girls. So if you want a piece of them, you have to clean your act. They know the polygamous habits of African men, and Zawadi warns me upfront. I am in for one tough ride.

Zawadi, like her name is a gift to all of us. She is a generous hosts and she goes out of her way to ensure that we are all comfortable as much as possible. The Kenyan ladies are in the kitchen preparing some Kenyan delicacy, Ugali and chicken stew which they all enjoy.

Our tour guide, Oliver who likes beer so much ensures that there is plenty of quality German beer flowing in the house. They savor the dish and acknowledge it is great. We later join freshmen for some nondescript party at Hamburg University, kinda off a rehearsal for the Halloween party coming on a few days. And the sound system reminds me of the bad things we did with student parties at my helm as the president of Main Campus at UoN. It is just befitting as they all seem to be enjoying big time. We have to cut the night short given the following day we will be on our way to Berlin and further East into Dresden City and Czech Republic.

But I really miss my cigarette and it is really troubling me. I have been pretending a lot with the group, but my nascent addiction ought to be nursed. I agree with Zawadi that we can get the rest to the hotel and get back to town, to grab a cigarette, which she readily agreed alongside Verina and Svenia. We got back to the hostel and as others go to sleep, we sneak back to the Railway station to get cigarettes alongside my eccentric pal Austin, a Luo with Kikuyu blood.

We have some brief informal chat about stuff and it really helps that we get along just fine, given that Zawadi is tough talking and speaks her mind. All men will normally freak at a woman who speaks her mind. Ask Caroline Mutoko.

To be continued, throughout this week. It is a three part series to make up for the fortnight…

3 thoughts on “Uncensored tales from Germany (Part 1)

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