I am German by nationality but I had spoken no German before I turned 40. I moved to Germany almost four years ago, turned 41 a few months ago, and I have just passed my B1 level in German.
I have been German by nationality since the age of 6, and since then I have had a paradoxical relationship with my German passport. On the one hand, I have been privileged to have a passport that allows me mobility; on the other hand, I have lived my whole life burdened by it. I have been stopped, interrogated and held at checkpoints, borders, roads and airports around the world: Palestine, Israel, Jordan, Lebanon, Greece, Romania, Hungary, Germany—ou name it. It was always this hollow and empty question that tries to box people in tiny notebooks and tracking devices called passports: Where are you from? How do you hold a German passport but speak no German? You are Palestinian but you were born in Jordan? It is like these border security officers have never heard of globalisation or Israeli-settler colonialism before.
My family comes from a small village in The Colonised Territories of the West Bank in Palestine, called Kafr Al Deek (the village of roosters). A rural village of almost 6 thousand people. Most family names in Palestine tend to take after animals and professions, like Smith or Fisher in English, and Müller or Hahn in German. My father (born before The Nakba/The Catastrophe of 1948) came to Germany during the 1960s as a guestworker from Palestine, studied mechanical engineering, married and had kids with a German lady and worked in Germany for over 20 years before he got divorced with two kids and returned alone to The Levant in the early 1980s as a project manager. My mother had then been exiled from Palestine to Jordan subsequent to the 1967 Arab-Israeli war (The Naksa/The Setback). I was then born in Jordan, and we spent my childhood travelling between Palestine, Jordan and Germany. Aged 16, I could travel by myself with a green German document/passport. So, during spring and summer vacations, my family came to Germany, and I went to Palestine alone. This continued till I moved permanently to the United Kingdom in 2005, aged 20. By then, I had solely spoken Arabic and English, even though we always had Germans and Arab-Germans at our house. During these gatherings, my father spoke German, my mother communicated in Arabic, and I in English. Between 2005 and 2021, I finished a Master’s in World Literatures, a PhD in Postcolonial Literature and Cultural Studies, published two books and numerous articles, and English technically became my first language. I rarely spoke or wrote anything in Arabic, and the only things I could say in German were:
ich verstehe kein Deutsch (“I do not understand German”), Eckball (“corner kick”), Scheiße (“shit”), Schnitzel and Rouladen and Wurst (all food dishes and recipes), and probably counting from one to ten.
I am a Palestinian with a German passport: the worst nightmare for an Israeli. Allegedly, I am an extension of both Hitler and Arafat. How lucky! Germans might not find this funny. I have realised that Germans are not big fans of sarcasm. I however have found many sarcastic and funny linguistic contrasts between German and English. For example, Hell is German for light in English. Träume is German for dreams. Gift is German for poison. Wo (sounds like “who”) means where, and Wer (sounds like “where”) means who. Tief (sounds like “thief”) means deep, and Dieb (sounds like “deep”) means thief. Fast is German for “almost”. Chef means “boss/manager”. Kind means “child”. Rock means “skirt”. Bald means “soon”. Brand means “fire”. And Wand means “wall”. I have an endless list of these translations that creates a wall of synonyms that are in fact antonyms hitting you severely with mind games every time you try to shuttle between languages and answer to a question on the spot. Stating numbers in German, furthermore, resembles that in Arabic, but opposes English. Numbers in German are gigantic in writing, nonetheless, and you are not allowed spaces to breathe in-between tens and hundreds and so on. For example, 9999 writes as follows: neuntausendneunhundertneunundneunzig. I indeed have 9999 problems in German, but numbers are not even one of them.
German is not that bad though. It is one of the most philosophical languages in the world. German has significantly contributed to existential philosophy and metaphysics. Namely and famously, for example, Martin Heidegger’s philosophy of Dasein (sein means “being” and da means “there”), which he adopted for the meaning of existence. Also, Johann Goethe’s concept of Weltliteratur (“world literature”), as he envisioned a world where national literature is less important compared to a transnational and intracultural exchange of global ideas and letters. Other examples can be found in compound German words such as Weltschmerz, which is a German word that means “world pain”. Weltflucht is German for “escaping the world”. Schadenfreude is a German word that expresses joy derived from the misfortunes of others. Zweisamkeit expressesa state of feeling lonely together with someone else. German can also be, surprise surprise, very compassionate and cute. Schatz means treasure and is often used to call someone’s beloved, like “baby” or “darling”. Ciao Kakao is used to say goodbyes and literally translates to “ciao cocoa”. Frühjahrsmüdigkeit expresses a state of fatigue generated by change of seasons and weather. How empathetic, considerate and vulnerable! There is more: Heimscheisser means someone who can only poop at home. Eier Schaukeln literally means “swinging my balls”, which implies doing nothing or relaxing. German can also be fun, like Legos, where you get to mix-and-match different words and come up with whole new meanings. Examples of such compound words are: Handschuhe (hand + shoes) means “gloves”, Flugzeug (flying + thing) means “airplane”, Streicheleinheit (to stroke + a unit + of cuddles) is used to suggest a session of cuddles.
II
Our classroom started with 15 students mainly from Iran, Ukraine, Russia, and Nigeria. The beginning was very relaxed and slow-paced. On our first day, we were taught how to write an E-mail in case of absence. I raised my hand and asked if we could start with the alphabet instead. We were then asked to introduce ourselves: name, country of origin, and age. The teacher pointed out each of the students’ countries on a map of the world behind her, but not Palestine. I did not make much of it. Perhaps she forgot. Perhaps she wanted to be “politically correct”. I could have raised my hand and said something, but we were not allowed to speak in English. Plus, I had already created enough tension with my first request to start with the alphabet. You could cut the tension in the classroom with a knife. All of the students in the classroom were refugees and asylum-seekers except for two: one of whom was from Türkiye and the other from Serbia, and they had paid for the classes from their own money. The rest had either temporarily lived in hotels or were still awaiting decisions on their asylum-seeking applications and lived in camps. What am I? Technically, I am not a refugee. I did leave England because of all the complications in the aftermath of Brexit, but I quit my job and still came here willingly to visit my family and stay. An immigrant? Why are we labeled a billion branches of being migrants when we are abroad, but Americans and Germans are called “expats”? “First World” privileges extend, apparently, from veto to language. Wait! Germany is not even one of the five permanent members (The USA, China, France, Russia, and The UK) to have an absolute veto over Security Council resolutions in The United Nations.
We had two teachers who rotated certain weekly days between them, and they were two of the sweetest and most helpful instructors who did everything they could to make German as tolerable as possible. I am also indebted to the German government for paying for my German language courses. I had to apply to the German immigration and refugee office to be granted funding. The application form required a mandatory section to fill in the applicant’s country of origin. It had neither Palestine nor Germany amongst its options. Palestine is not recognised by Germany as an independent state, and you cannot be granted a German nationality without passing an official B1 (Level 3) German test in the first place. What am I? Who am I? I attached an extra piece of paper and explained my situation to the Refugee and Immigration Office.
Once upon a time, I woke up, like Frantz Kafka’s claustrophobic and insomniac Gregor Samsa, to find myself a Palestinian exile. Human by nature, German by nationality, Jordanian by birth, Palestinian by descent and origin, and writing in English, I have problems answering the question “where are you from?” Such question boxes one within boundaries and asks you to name geographies and places on the geopolitical map of the world whereby it inhales you to be associated with the whereabouts of an accident called Birth, or an absent presence that is called History. On the one hand, having to state singular places surely glorifies the triumphalism of geography and cultural borderlines; on the other, it marginalises the celebration of multiple cultural experiences. No singular or brief answer will ever suffice to answer such a question. It is rather the transitory metamorphoses throughout various and diverse cultural experiences that should count.
III
The classroom became bigger. Syrians, more Ukrainians, more Russians, Indians, and more Iranians joined in. Instead of 15 students, we became over 25. The classroom was equipped enough, but from my experience in teaching, language classes should not normally exceed 15 students per class. Germany however was still receiving refugees in abundance. Its involvement in the Russian-Ukrainian conflict has cost its economy dearly. Uncalculated bonding with everything American has also cost Germany dearly. And I am not only talking about politics and economy here. Even national German radio stations play American music 24/7. German socialist culture risks being diminished by American Pepsi-Colaisation and McDonaldisation (the process where fast-food principles—efficiency, calculability, predictability, and control—dominate American society, driven by capitalist expansion). Even German Schlager music (German pop music) is being replaced by American hip-hop in German Christmas markets. Last year, 50 Cent’s Candy Shop echoed in Hamburg’s city centre, the second largest city in Germany, through loud speakers for 3 months in a row. Hamburg is certainly no American ghetto, but it is slowly turning into one. DHL is American, German politics are becoming more and more American, German Christmas markets and play fairs are turning into American fun parks. Germans, however, frown and are upset if you spoke to them, god forbid, in English. Some will even claim they do not understand English when in fact they do.
“I’ll take you to the candy shop, I’ll let you lick the lollipop, go ahead, girl, don’t you stop, keep goin’ til you hit the spot.” At its core, 50 Cent’s song serves as a metaphorical exploration of desire and attraction through the playful imagery of sweets where a girl is being seduced by candies to eventually become the provider’s bitch. This imagery very much sounds like a fitting metaphor to the American-German relationship on so many levels: politically, economically, culturally. Did you know that German students are learning about current American propaganda in their German schools this very day? My friend’s son has just come back from an exchange school programme in America. The first cultural event on the tour: a visit to the Coca Cola factory. How fascinating!
Back to the classroom. The German language has two main types of articles—definite (der, die, das / “the”) and indefinite (ein, eine / “a/an”). These definite and indefinite articles change based on gender, number, and cases. While there are only 3 nominative singular forms, there are roughly 11-12 total variations (der, die, das, den, dem, des, ein, eine, einen, einem, eines) which extend across nominative, accusative, dative, and genitive cases. I promise you, this is not black magic or some sort of Voodoo curse. This is basic 101 German grammar. What I do not understand, however, is the following: why is a skirt (Der Rock) masculine and a pair of trousers (Die Hose) is feminine in German? And why is a fork feminine (Die Gabel), a spoon (Der Löffel) masculine, and a knife (Das Messer) neutral? Well, this is Germany; you do not get to ask the questions. You only do as you are told—unless you are American. Or alternatively, you learn how to be independent, or an orphan, from this children’s German song:
The child: Wo? Wo? Wo? (Where? Where? Where?)
Wo ist meine Mama? (Where is mother?)
Wer hat sie gesehen? (Who has seen her?)
Bist du meine Mama? (Are you my mother?)
An adult female: Nein, du musst weitergehen! (No, you must move on!)
Towards the end of the course, our teacher tried to motivate us by asking us to study hard for the national German language test. She made sure to remind us that passing this test will make sure we do not waste any more money of the German taxpayers. What about the taxpayer’s money, I thought, that goes to Israel and its ammunition overseas? The taxpayers work, taxes are deducted from their salaries, the German government sponsors Israel, Israel kills, bombards and destroys Palestinian homes and land, then Palestinians end up studying German in Hamburg. I am here because THEY kicked us out from THERE. I am HERE because tax money HERE sponsors killers THERE. My being here is the result of German guilt from killing Jewish people who have been replicating what had been done to them by Germans in the past to the Palestinians now. Antisemitic? Well, antisemitism is a European concept created when Jewish people were kicked out of Europe by white people. In fact, Jewish people lived and prospered happily in Iraq, Palestine and other parts of the Levant and West Asia till the establishment of the Zionist movement in the late 19th century. Most importantly, you cannot accuse me of antisemitism every time I am angry. You are trying to dehumanise me, and I am trying to revoke that. It is called resistance to imperialism.
Back to the classroom. I wanted to pass my national German language test, nonetheless. I am very goal-oriented. I also speak Arabic: a language with over 10-million-word variations and overly complicated grammar; whereas English and German put together barely add up to a million. I wanted to challenge myself to learn something new after 40, add a further cultural identity to my existence, and experience what it feels like to be a student again after 20 years of being a teacher. I also wanted to narrow the cultural distance between myself and German society. After all, language is identity. It is a cultural entity, not only a linguistic means of communication. This, however, turned out to be very naïve. I passed the test. Yet, I am now just an Ausländer (German for “foreigner”, and literally translates to outsider) with a B1 language certificate. Nothing has changed. Normalisation of repression and oppression in Germany will still go on, whether I know that a spoon is masculine or not. I just wish Germans were as free and liberating in their politics and attitude as they are with their bodies and nudity, i.e. their free body culture (Freikörperkultur / FKK).
And so, I am forced to be in rainy Germany instead of sunny Palestine, never sure who I am or where I belong—but hopefully not for too long. Because, as Germans say: “Alles hat ein Ende, nur die Wurst hat zwei” (Everything has an end, only the sausage has two).
