A NOVEL BY SAMSON AKPAKA

CHAPTER ONE

The Temporal Camp

The refugee camp in Dusseldorf, Germany was inside an abandoned ship. The German authorities had converted the ship to a living quarter. I had stopped at the Dusseldorf Central Train Station and walked all the way to the camp as I was told by Afam, a man I met few days back in the city of Oberhausen. There was a long stretch of bridge from the land to the

ship. I walked on it until I got to the entrance door of the abandoned ship; it was locked.

A knock on the metal door produced an elderly woman who peeped from a spy hole on the gate “Was ist los?” she asked in German. I kept silent since I didn’t understand what she was

saying. She opened the gate and motioned for me to come in. “Bist du neurer hier?” she asked again.

I remained silent again. She turned around and called on a middle-aged man to come.

The man spoke English language. “Would you like to talk in English or French?” the man asked me. I nodded before saying ‘English’. “Are you from Sierra Leone, Liberia or Nigeria?” he asked.

I became confused. Afam had told me the day before that I was the one to tell them where I came from and not them naming some countries for me to choose from. I composed myself and answered “Cameroun”. He wrote down Kameroun with a ‘K’ and asked me for my name. “Solomon Ebot,” I answered.

He wrote it down again and asked for my date of birth. After writing down everything he needed from me, he called another man who led me to a room with number 27 written on the door. There were two double-decker beds in the room; the two lower beds had been occupied. I had nothing with me; therefore, I just climbed on the top bunk and lay face-up staring at the wooden ceiling. At about 12 pm, a bell rang, and everyone started scrambling downstairs. I followed them to the base of the ship where the engine was supposed to have been. There were rows of seats and tables carefully arranged on the basement. At the head of the hall was a buffet setup of assorted food, rice, small breads, honey, butter and so on. It was time for lunch.

There was already a long line of other asylum seekers. I joined up from the rear. As I walked past the first table, I picked up two plates as I had seen the lady before me did. I got to the food table and got served some rice and chicken in one plate. Then I received bread, one sachet honey and butter in one plate. I took a pack of orange juice and looked for an empty place to sit. When I got to a vacant seat, I sat near the Middle Eastern girl whom I was following. “Are you new here?” I asked the girl. She ignored me and continued eating.

Some Middle Eastern men were eating about six meters opposite me and they stared at me from time to time. When we finished eating, I headed to room number 27. Before I got to the room, a young man of about twenty-eight years stopped me. He was African. “Are you Nigerian?” he asked.

I kept quiet as if I had not heard him. I was told to deny being a Nigerian. It was unpatriotic for me but I had no other choice if I was to avoid being sent back to Nigeria. He continued talking and asking some questions about Nigeria. From his intonation, I figured he was a Nigerian too, a fellow Igbo tribesman for that matter but I was a Cameroonian on the Ship. “I am from Cameroun,” I said to him.

He let out a devilish laugh and said his name was Ifeanyi; he was from Anambra in Eastern Nigeria. Despite the temptations to spill it out, I maintained that I was a Camerounian. The man could have been a German spy. He told me that he had come from France where he

had lived for two years without taking asylum, his visa had expired and the police was closing in on him. He had decided to leave France and cross over to Germany to seek asylum. He warned me not to talk to the Middle Eastern

girl I met during lunch. He said that her people could kill me if they saw me around her again. That was a very good warning from him. It was then that I figured out why the

Middle Eastern men kept staring at me during the lunch. After the conversation with Ifeanyi, I went back to room 27.

When it was time for dinner, we ate again and went to our beds.

The following morning, some names including mine were called out during breakfast. We followed a man to an office outside the ship but in the same city of Dusseldorf. We were registered appropriately and finger printed. Then we were given train tickets to our various permanent refugee camps scattered all over the Republic of Germany.

I was posted to Eisenhuttenstadt, a town between Frankfurt-Oder and Cottbus in the German state of Brandenburg. The town was very close to the Polish border.

I was given a travel plan which would help me to connect trains through different train stations. I was to board a train in Dusseldorf Central Station to Dortmund, then stop there and enter a different train to Osnabruck. I would stop at Osnabruck and wait for half hour before boarding another train to Hannover. At Hannover, I would board another train to Braunschweig., and after, board another to Magdeburg. The train from Magdeburg would stop me at Berlin Zoologischer Garten Station where I would board another to Eisenhuttenstadt, my destination.

It was a cheap ticket, therefore I had to use the interregional trains. It also meant that I stopped and changed trains in all the above-mentioned cities.

I, a twenty-two-year-old Cameroonian, arrived at Eisenhuttenstadt by 6:15pm. It was a long journey, but I loved traveling. I took bus 31 from the train station to the Asylum Camp. When I got to the gate, I gave them the clearance papers I was given in Dusseldorf, and they admitted me.

I was taken to Room 22 upstairs in one of the five buildings inside the massive premises. The compound was fenced with barbed wires. The compound next to it was the deportation camp, the terror compound of our time in camp.

Unfortunately for me, dinner time had passed that evening before I arrived at the camp; therefore, I was given orange juice and some hard bread to eat and wait until the next day. They also gave me a clean white bed sheet and two pillowcases. I dropped off the items in the room and went downstairs.

There were many people playing outside, football, tennis and so on. I strolled past a group of boys; about four of them.

They were speaking Igbo, my native Nigerian Language. I pretended not to understand them and walked past them towards another group.

The new group was speaking a language I couldn’t figure out; therefore, I walked past them again towards where some girls were playing volleyball.

8

CHAPTER TWO

The Beginning

It all started when I left Nigeria on 31st July, 2002.

We had boarded Alitalia airline at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport, Lagos, Nigeria and landed in Accra Ghana on transit. We left Ghana the same night and got to Milan’s Malpenza airport the following morning. The whole night was like a dream. Back at the airport in Lagos, I had walked down the aircraft isle looking up at the storage base for my seat number. My ticket had pointed to seat Number 20A. I found my seat at the left side of the flight. A strange and suspicious looking girl was sitting on it. The lights were still on, so I took a good look at her face first. She was about nineteen or twenty.

“That’s my chair” I said confidently as if I had been traveling by flight all my life.

She looked scared and surprised. “Check your ticket for your own seat number,” I continued. She opened a local handbag and brought out her ticket. I looked at it and saw 20B.

What! I had thought 21 came after 20 in numerical order, what was 20A and 20B again.

 I was a little confused, so I settled on the window seat, whether it was 20A or 20B.

My travel had been fun since Amanda, my seatmate was also a first-time air traveler. She was going to Napoli according to her, to live with her aunty who had lived there for twenty years and had a boutique.

When we landed at Malpenza airport in Milan, we proceeded to the transit hall. I left the craft before Amanda.The next time I saw her, she was being questioned by two uniformed women whom I suspected to be either Italian police or immigration. I quickly looked away from them and proceeded to the transit hall.

Before I left Lagos, I was warned to mind how I interacted with people I didn’t know. They said it could lead to my deportation back to Nigeria.

I boarded a new, smaller aircraft from Milan to Dusseldorf Germany. We got to Dusseldorf an hour and some minutes after leaving Milan. Two neatly dressed police officers stood on the way from the aircraft to the arrival hall. They stopped me and asked for my passport which I gave them. While they were flipping towards the visa page, my hand was stretched out in a do-quick-and-give-it–back manner. They gave the passport back to me after searching through it. I could have been in a lot of trouble if they had asked me a question. The passport I travelled with didn’t belong to me. It belonged to a man who had lived for years in Germany.

Matthew, who owned the passport and who was supposed to welcome me at the Dusseldorf airport was there before I arrived. I followed him down to the train station inside the airport where he bought two train tickets. We boarded a train from Dusseldorf to Oberhausen, a small city near Dortmund.

When we got to his apartment, the first thing that caught my attention was Nnenna, a Nigerian girl who was supposed to be Matthew’s girlfriend.

“Welcome, we have been waiting for you,” she said in Igbo, my native language.

She popped a bottled of champagne and shared it among the three glasses on the glass table. “Welcome to Deutschland,” she cheerfully toasted as we drank from our glasses. After the drinks, she pointed to the bathroom in case I wanted to shower but I told her I wanted some rest. She went into the kitchen and brought out four fried chicken legs in a ceramic plate and kept it on the table opposite me, after which she announced that she was going to the mall to shop. She left with Matthew some minutes later.

Two hours later, Nnenna returned alone and when I asked after Matthew, she answered that he won’t be coming back until the next morning. “You haven’t eaten your chicken legs,” she observed. Truth was that I didn’t know it was for me since she just kept it there and said nothing.

“I wasn’t hungry, but I am now,” I lied, and instantly grabbed one of the chicken legs and shoved almost all of it into my mouth at once.

After the meal, I went into the bathroom to shower. The bathroom was full of liquid soaps which were strange to me. I had come with a local bar of soap from Nigeria; therefore, I tied my towel and went to the room to get the soap from my bag.

Nnenna stared at me lustfully as I opened my bag to get my soap, but I pretended not to notice. I went back into the bathroom and closed the door. The key latch on the door was damaged so the door could not be locked. When I turned on the shower, very hot water busted through the funnel and landed on my body. I shouted in pain and quickly turned the steaming water off.

The bathroom door opened almost immediately, and Nnenna was standing there staring at me from my head to my face down, to my manhood hanging between my legs.

“The water is too hot,” I complained.

She knew what had happened without any explanation.

“Sorry, I didn’t show you how to mix the water,” she apologized as she stepped inside the bathroom. I was completely naked but the effect of the hot water on my body subdued every thought in my head. She laughed as she lectured me on how to balance the water between hot and cold. When she finished, she looked directly at my manhood and smiled at it. “You have a big dick,” she said coyly as she left.

The silly manhood had already started getting excited. I had just arrived in a strange country with strange weather and strange buildings and strange yellow people with yellow hair and flashy cars, but all my mind could think of was what was beneath Nnenna’s cloths. I had just found myself in that circumstance and I decided not to make any move on her whatsoever. When I finished my bath, I changed to a pair of short jean pants and a polo shirt I had brought from Nigeria.

Did this girl say that Matthew will not come back until morning?? That was almost twelve hours to stay alone with her. Something was going to happen. All the girls that had seen my joystick from the past five years had also felt it inside them and Nnenna was not going to be an exception.

I sat in the sitting room watching a program being presented in a strange language, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t interesting since I couldn’t understand what they were saying but I pretended to be enjoying it.

What else was there to do?

The only option left was either to sleep or chat with the beautiful girl going from the kitchen to the bedroom repeatedly.

A plate of hot, creamy food landed on the table in front of me and brought me out of my reverie. “What part of Igboland are you from?” I asked Nnenna.

“Enugu State” she replied.

She was from my home state. Things were getting more interesting.

“I am from Enugu State too” I said.

We introduced our various towns, and chatted some more and surprisingly ate from the same plate while talking. According to her, she was a student.

When we finished eating, she went into the bathroom to have her bath.

“Solomon!” I heard her voice call out from the bathroom. I moved to the bathroom door and knocked. She asked that I come in. I opened the door slowly and peeped into the bathroom, Nnenna was naked.

“I asked you to come in, not stand at the door” she said and started smiling,

“Are you afraid of a naked woman?” she continued.

I decided to take control of the situation from there. “Tell me what it is, I can hear you from here” I responded.

“I need you to massage my back with this sponge” she said as she stretched her hand to give me a sponge.

“I… I… I… can’t do that, Matthew will be…” I stammered.

“Matthew will not find out unless you tell him” She interrupted me.

I staggered into the bathroom like a drunken sailor and took the sponge. I was in a dilemma. If I refused to do her this Favor, I could have managed to make an enemy under the same roof. If I did it, I could get in trouble with Matthew if he found out. I was already in the situation and there was no way out, therefore I started rubbing her back with the sponge. She eventually turned around and faced me with two beautifully crafted breasts staring at me.

King David would have sent Matthew to the war front to be killed just to take Nnenna from him if it was during his era.

I didn’t wait for the invitation to rub the breasts. It was part of her body. I had massaged and rubbed her back down to her buttocks and as far as I was concerned, the difference between the buttocks and the breasts wasn’t much. I massaged the breasts with the sponge while she closed her eyes. Somehow, I managed to drop the sponge and started the massaging with my bare hands. My manhood was already bulging from my jean pants and was so visible that there was no hiding place for it.

She threw water at me and pulled me close to her body, then she planted a kiss on my lips, and I lost every sense of control and reasoning.

Later on after we finished what we started inside the bathroom, she explained to me that her visa was going to expire in one year. If she didn’t get pregnant, the Germans would send her back to Nigeria. She told me that Matthew was not her boyfriend.

After my encounter with Nnenna, we sat down to chat in the living room. She told me how she had come to Germany.

Her parents were some kind of rich people who lived in Nigeria. They had sent her to study engineering in Essen, a big city near Koln (Cologne). She lived alone in Essen which was 20 minutes train ride from Oberhausen where we were at that time. She was also a beautiful girl and charcoal black in complexion. During our chat, she had told me that she wanted a baby to make her get Mothershaft, a kind of resident permit to live in Germany.

I thought about the proposal of getting her pregnant and had no decision on it yet. I just arrived in Germany, and I had not even called back home to tell them that I had reached my destination safely. The thought woke me out of my silly fantasies. I stood up and asked Nnenna to escort me outside to make some calls to Nigeria. She had excused herself and went inside the room to put on make-up. I opened my bag, fished out a €100 bill from it and searched for my international passport. It was nowhere to be found. I recalled that Matthew had taken it from me to keep. Then I remembered that it belonged to him. I told Nnenna that I couldn’t find my passport, but she told me not to be afraid. She said I could always tell the police that I was from Liberia and that I had been missing for long and that I didn’t even know how I got to Germany. It was funny but it was better than nothing.

We went outside to the business district of the town, and I called my elder brother who was already getting worried. I told him to spread the news to my parents that I was already in Germany. After the phone calls, Nnenna took me to a bar where Igbo boys gathered every evening to joke and drink. I kept quiet and listened for a few minutes. It was getting dark when we left for home. We got home around 8 pm. Nnenna called Matthew and confirmed that he would be coming back the following morning. The phone was on loudspeaker.

Matthew had asked about me and was told I was sleeping. He had laughed and asked Nnenna to wake me up and give me the phone. I changed the tone of my voice and spoke like I was just waking up. He asked how I was doing and if Nnenna had given me food. Finally, he said he would be back around 6 am and hung up. I and Nnenna laughed but my laughter was cut short by a kiss from Nnenna’s red lips. I didn’t care about the lipstick as I licked everything on my way to her tongue. We held each other and kissed and caressed and squeezed and massaged until my manhood reminded me that it was still part of the set up.

As we kissed each other, my mind drifted away into Heaven where I had a hard time entering through the pearly gates.

St Peter was there with the same sword he used in cutting out the ear of one of those Gentiles who wanted to crucify his master. I greeted him nonchalantly as he opened the Book of Life to check if my name was among those scheduled to go into Heaven. “What did you say your name was again” he asked. “Solomon Ebot” I stammered. “Your names are not here” he shouted as he reached for

that rusty sword. I took to my heels, and it was only when I hit my head on

the wall that I returned to Matthew’s sitting room, back to Nnenna and back to the cold weather of western Europe.

At about 12 am, we finished drinking our orange juice and she announced that she was going to sleep in the room. It was a one- room apartment so I had to sleep in the sitting room.

Grin, grin grin.

It was the doorbell. I woke up with a start.

Who could be ringing the doorbell as early as 2 am? It was Matthew.

I pretended not to have heard the bell anyway as I heard the room door open, and Nnenna opened the passage door for him. He was cold as he went straight to the kitchen to plug the electric kettle into the power socket to make coffee. They talked for a while and Nnenna went back to the room pretending to have been sleeping since 6 pm the previous day.

Matthew did not come into the sitting room as he feared he could wake me up, not knowing that I was awake.

Around 7am, I went to the toilet to urinate. Nnenna was already in the kitchen baking God-knows what. I ignored her and went back to the sitting room. She joined me 10 minutes later and sat at a considerable distance away from me as if I was an enemy. We occasionally made eyes at each other but there was no talking.

The German ZDF TV was telling us how the weather was going to be that day across the entire Country.

I went into the kitchen and brought a can of beer.

“Why do you want to drink beer this morning?” Nnenna asked.

I ignored her and opened the beer, took a deep drink and put it on the table.

“My man, it looks like you like beer”? A voice said coming into the sitting room. It was Matthew.

“Good morning” I greeted.

He responded and said something about the beer again.

“I have been bored since yesterday doing nothing, so let me drink one beer first so that my head will clear today” I joked.

He laughed as he told me that he would have one week’s leave in three days’ time and would take me out to meet people.

“No problem” I managed to say ignoring Nnenna.

“I want to go with you guys” Nnenna chipped in.

I kept quiet as Matthew told her that it was going to be boys alone but that we could attach her to our plan if she would make a special dish called Chapatti for him. Laughing, she agreed to make the food, and after that we chatted until it was time for Matthew to leave the house again. Matthew left for work after midday, and it was I and Nnenna all alone in the same house again. The atmosphere was awkward initially but after a few cans of Becks beer, we got fired up and started talking. Her plan was to ditch Matthew when she got pregnant. I didn’t see how that was my concern until she said I was going to stay with her when she had the baby.

I sat up, because I couldn’t see the differences between a married man and her proposal. I played her tune and agreed to the devilish plan. I was new in town and didn’t know anywhere to go. I gave my elder brother in Nigeria, Nnenna’s phone number to reach me if he wanted to talk since, I had no phone of my own. Her phone had beeped, and it was my brother. He asked me about my wellbeing and other sundry questions. Then he gave me the phone number of Afam, a young man from my neighboring village back in Nigeria who travelled to Germany in 1999. I called Afam later and he agreed to come to Oberhausen where I was. He lived in Essen.

“What exactly do you think I am going to be doing in this country?” I asked Nnnena who was sitting beside me.

“You will first of all, go and take up asylum” she said. She explained that the Polizei would eventually catch me if I didn’t. She also explained how I was going to visit an asylum camp and declare myself, then they would send me to a bigger camp after clearance and I could spend anything from one to three months during the whole process depending on how lucky I was. It sounded scary and funny at the same time.

We were still talking about the asylum process when the doorbell rang. The Police officers were three males and one female. They had come to search for what I couldn’t figure out. They had opened the door to the stairs and walked up to our door before ringing the bell. They were looking for Mr. Matthew.

They flashed four badges at once and asked for Matthew.

“He went to work,” Nnenna replied.

They flashed a search warrant as two of them moved into the room. I sat quietly in the sitting room like a statue trying hard to breathe. One of them asked Nnenna some questions while looking at me. She told them I was her fellow student at one University in Essen. I smiled at the picture as if I knew what they were talking about.

Ten minutes later, they wrote some notes and left it on the table, and then they left. It was when they left that I realized that I was nearly deported. All the Police officers needed to ask for was my passport. That would have been a one-way ticket to Lagos Nigeria.

At about 6pm in the evening, we strolled back to the city Centre. I had an appointment with Afam, the guy from my town who travelled to Germany since 1999.

When we met at the city Centre in Oberhausen, we hugged and exchanged greetings. He was happy to see me. We told Nnenna to go back home alone while I followed Afam to Essen. We visited a Nigerian bar where people were drinking. There was a football match between two Bundesliga clubs that night. Later in the evening, Afam took me to a Cameroonian lady who was to teach me what to say to the asylum officials at the camp. She taught me how to approach the camp, which was the most dangerous part. She said that the police usually laid ambush on the way to the camp and if they caught you before you got to the camp gates, you could be deported. According to the female Cameroonian tutor, I was to become a Cameroonian in Germany. My family name was to become Ebot and I had come from Bansou in Bamenda, North-West province of Cameroon. It was a sweet story.

After the lecture, I gave her €100 and left.

Afam took me back to Oberhausen and to Nnenna who was waiting impatiently for me.

Afam left with the €2000 I brought from Nigeria. It was the money I came with as my BTA, or whatever they called it. I gave it to him to keep for me since I was going to the asylum camp the following morning.

When I returned, I didn’t tell Nnenna that I was leaving for asylum camp the next morning, I figured out she didn’t need to be told. However, I eventually told her.

“Nnenna, I am going to camp tomorrow,” I announced. She was startled. “But you don’t have a story yet,” she managed to say.

“I will manage what I heard in Essen this evening,” I responded. I made her understand that it was better than

staying there and waiting for another police scare. She was really in love with me because she cried like a baby and reminded me how she was going to miss me. I did the obvious next thing to do which was promising her that I will come and stay with her after the camp. She slept in my arms. I had to wake her up around 1 am to go to the room since I figured out Matthew could return anytime from 2 am.

In the morning, Matthew was nowhere to be found. Nnenna had tried calling his cell phone number numerous times, but it wasn’t connecting.

“His battery must have died” she kept saying.

At about 9 am, he had not returned yet. By then, I was ready to go to the asylum camp. As I was instructed, I was going without anything. No money, no second set of clothes, nothing that linked me to Africa except a Cameroon CFA note loosely hidden in my pocket.

I proceeded downstairs with Nnenna to board a bus which will take me to the train station. As we stepped out to the street, we saw a police bus coming down the street.

It drove past us and stopped a few meters away in the only parking space available in the area. As we moved up the street, we saw three police officers come out of the bus. With them was Matthew in handcuffs. We needed no prophet to tell us that there was trouble. We continued walking and pretended not to have seen them. I expected the Police officers to stop us, but I didn’t hear that. That was how I escaped the police net the second time in two days.

We went to the train station and boarded a train to Dusseldorf. Nnenna stopped at Essen Central Train Station while I continued to the asylum camp in Dusseldorf.

CHAPTER THREE

The Asylum Camp

I met Agnes in the asylum camp in Eisenhuttenstadt Germany. She was among a group of six girls playing volleyball the first day I arrived at the camp. I walked up and greeted them. They pretended not to have seen me until the volleyball game was over. I turned to Agnes and introduced myself. After the introduction, she walked towards a smaller building while I walked a meter behind her; anyone who saw us must have known that I was just following the girl against her wish.

“I like Nigerians” I heard her say.

“Really” I shouted behind her.

She turned and waited for me. The introduction continued.

Her name was Agnes, she was from Uganda. She had been in the camp for one week before my arrival. We talked a little more before we got in front of a small house. She said it was the female hostel and that boys were forbidden to enter inside the house after 7 pm.

I looked at my watch and it was 2 minutes to 7 pm. “It’s 6:58pm” I said.

She laughed and asked what I wanted to do inside the female hostel.

“I have no friends here, I need one” I said.

“Look at those guys up there” she said while pointing towards some boys under a tree. “They are Nigerians, you can go and join them”.

As she opened the door to go inside, she looked back and saw that I was not moving. She stood there and looked at me as if I was a monster. I smiled, turned my back at her and started moving towards those boys under the tree. Two minutes later, I got to the tree. All of them fell silent as soon as I got there. I greeted them in Igbo language. “Ndewo nu umunne m”.

They hesitated a bit before one of them spoke up. “Nwanne kedu ije?”.

I responded in Igbo again and told them that I just arrived at the camp. One of them named John was a little offensive. “You just arrived at the camp and the first thing you did

was going up to the girls” John said.

I laughed since there was nothing to say. I told them that I heard the language they were speaking but I couldn’t join them for fear of them being spies. We all laughed this time except John.

We introduced ourselves; I was Solomon, then John; the others were Moses, Joshua and Peter. We were all from the Bible, the Zionists from the eastern Nigeria. Even though we were all from Igbo Nation in eastern Nigeria, none of us had an Igbo name.

It was getting dark, so we walked towards our hostel. It was a sprawling three story building. The blacks lived on first floor, which had about 15 rooms and a long wide passageway. It was the same thing in the second and third floors which were occupied by the Arabs and the other The others consisted of Chinese, Indians, Pakis, Uzbeks and all the Kistans in that region.

We all got to room 21 where Joshua and John stayed. They were both Sudanese in the camp according to them. The other two were Liberians. Surprisingly there was no Nigerian in the Camp despite all of us coming from Nigeria. We chatted and drank cheap beer. I later went to my room and slept alone until the next day. I was told to report to the administrative block that morning, therefore after breakfast, some people went back to their rooms, others went out

into the small town of Eisenhuttenstadt to look around while some played games outside, and I, Solomon Ebot, went to the administrative block to get myself properly documented.

I got to the administrative block and sat down like a few others that I met there. We were a mixture of Africans, Asians and Arabs.

When I was called, I got up and went to the lady behind the desk. A female interpreter was

seated beside me. When I agreed that I understood English, I repeated my name, my date of birth and my nationality. She asked me a few questions about Africa; whether I had

ever been bitten by mosquitos or taken anti-malaria drugs, whether I had ever suffered a malaria break down. The questions were all malaria and mosquitoes.

After ten minutes, I was told to come back in an hour to pick up my camp ID card. The ID card would enable me to go outside and into the town. I left the administrative block and searched for my new friends; I couldn’t see any of them, then I strolled aimlessly towards the female hostel.

I found Agnes spreading cloths outside the hostel. She smiled and greeted me.

“Did you have a goodnight?” I asked. She looked at me and said nothing.

“I am just trying to be caring” I continued. She laughed and said, “Since when did you Nigerians

become caring? It has always been about how to make

money”.

I laughed it off and told her that the money we struggled to make was to take care of our women. She agreed with me. When she was done with spreading her clothes, she

invited me inside the female hostel.  Even though the camp fed us, Agnes had her pots and cooked her own meals. She only visited the dining hall whenever she wanted.

She had cooked some rice that day. She dished out a large portion for me. I wasn’t hungry but rejecting the food could mean rejecting every other thing, therefore I ate the rice with fresh fish. She explained that she ate only fish and vegetables. After eating the rice, she asked why I was interested in her. I wanted to deny that obvious truth, but I decided to flow with the current wave.

“Who wouldn’t be interested in a beautiful girl like you? That person must be a Ghanaian, I heard they don’t have beautiful girls in their country” I joked.

She laughed out loud. “You must be a funny guy,” she said.

I continued from where I stopped. I told her that she was the only interesting person in the

whole camp as far as I was concerned.

Ten minutes into our sweet chat, we heard some footsteps towards her room, and we kept quiet. When a knock came on her door, it was John, the big-headed troublemaker.

John was as direct as one can ever be. “You need to stay away from Agnes, she is my girl” he shouted.

Being smart at avoiding small fights, I kept silent. I figured out that anything from my mouth could result in a physical fight. With that kind of head sitting on his shoulders, he could match Mike Tyson one on one.

“Stop being rude to my visitor,” Agnes said coming to

my defense. It was a lifeline worth exploring but I kept mute. I was playing the victim and the innocent guy.

“This is your last warning!!” John yelled as he opened the door and stormed outside.

“Come back here!” Agnes shouted. Why are you calling him back.

John was too angry to return. “Don’t mind him,” Agnes apologized to me. More like it. Don’t mind him huh, that guy was ready for war.I nodded my head like a baby whose mother had

promised to buy a toy when coming back from shopping.

There and then, Agnes declared her relationship with John over and handed the opportunity to me. Her reasons ranged from John’s arrogance and carelessness, to anger, while the reasons for choosing me were my calmness and mature way of understanding things. Attaboy.

Women will always give you every good tag if they like you and vice versa.

The lunch bell took us outside. Agnes insisted on

holding my hand while we strolled up to the dining hall.

Every curious eye was on the two black lover birds. John and

his three wise men were already in the hall when we arrived.

We ignored them and took our place somewhere else.

We were served potatoes and chicken, then the round

hard bread and juice. It seemed the Germans ate everything

with bread.

After lunch, Agnes took me outside the camp to a mall

called Superspa. We bought cheap beer and took them

under a tree to enjoy the weather. A few minutes later, John

and his squad showed up. One of them called me and asked

that I excused myself while they talk to Agnes. I refused to

go anywhere. Instead I stood up and faced John.

“Listen carefully John, I don’t know about you but

I sponsored myself down to Europe. I also have enough

money to do it all over again if I get deported. If you want

us to fight over this girl, I am ready for you” I said in Igbo

Language.

They stood there for a few moments and left us alone.

“What did you say to them”? Agnes asked as soon as

they left.

“I told them that I was going to tell the authorities that

we were all Nigerians and get us deported back to Nigeria,”

I lied.

Agnes laughed hard.

We took some beer and walked back inside the

compound. Despite my bold confrontation with John’s

group, I was scared of them.

About 6pm, we went for dinner. After that Agnes

invited me to the ladies hostel which I declined. I was afraid

There and Back on Time

29

of John’s group. They could track me to the female hostel

and report to the authorities. I wasn’t going to take chances

from then on.

We sat outside under a tree and talked. She told me

everything about herself. She was a Ugandan, fresh out

of the University and wanted to explore the planet earth

just like me. A politician boyfriend of hers had sent her to

Germany with a promise to come later and marry her over

there. Four months of waiting had seen her finish all the

money she had and the money from home had stopped

coming. The phone number of the politician had stopped

going through and rumour had it that he had been thrown

into the prison by President Yoweri Museveni. She had been

advised by well-wishers to seek asylum in order not to be

deported.

On my own part, I was the son of a powerful rebel

chief in Nigeria. The government was after my dad, so

we, the children had been sneaked into Europe through

a diplomatic channel. My elder brother preferred London

while I was brought to Germany.

It was getting dark and we had been sitting there for an

hour and half. When it was time to go, Agnes kissed me. It

was a sweet kiss, different from all other kisses I ever had.

She had big soft lips which made the kisses feel so special.

She said she was falling in love with me and that she was

so relaxed with me. I kissed her back and she placed her head

on my shoulders. She was really falling in love.

Nobody could see us clearly from anywhere; therefore

I slipped my hand inside her warm clothes. Her soft perky

breasts welcomed me. I squeezed them slowly and prayed

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30

that the clock and time stand still but the damn time was

running at the rate of 60 seconds per minute.

It was heading to mid-August and the weather had

started getting cold. My squeezes and kisses had kept her

warm.

John and his group were sitting outside when I returned.

“Women will kill you in this Europe” one of them said.

It was a sound of defeat from them. I had won. Surprisingly,

I joined up with them. Joshua was first to speak.

“What you did was not fair”’ he said.

“What did I do? It was a case of calling me aside and

telling me that Agnes was his girlfriend, I could have

forgotten about her” I said knowing it was a lie.

When I got to my room, it was empty as usual. I couldn’t

sleep there alone. John and his gang could come to strangle

me in the night. I went to the entertainment hall where

there was a single television for every member of the Camp.

It was weekend and some sports programmes were showing.

The Arabs had taken control of the remote control and all

the other people just had to watch the program they chose.

There was a long chair at the back. I settled on it and

slept amidst noises coming from the TV and its viewers. I

woke up around 2 am and went to my room. I figured that

John must have gotten tired of checking on me. I locked the

door and slept again.

The following morning after breakfast, I went back to

the admin blocks to get my interview date. It was two weeks

away. That gave me ample time to perfect my lies

Around 9 am, I was bored. I went to the field to play

football. The two soccer balls were taken over by the blacks

and the Arabs respectively. Joining the Arabs was out of

There and Back on Time

31

question since we still considered them a security threat after

9/11. The other ball was used by John and his squad. There

was no need going to ask them if I could play, those guys

may have been planning on how to harm me.

I left them and went to the ladies hostel. Agnes was

cooking when I came. I joined her in the ladies kitchen and

made jokes while she cooked. The other girls in the kitchen

laughed at my jokes. There was one particular one who

laughed harder than others. Her name was Melinda; she

was South African, the most beautiful of the lot. She looked

and behaved like a model, but the reality was that we were

all in an asylum camp.

Melinda was interested in me; I could tell by the way

she laughed even when I made bad jokes. At a time, Agnes

left the kitchen to get something and by the time she was

back, Melinda was standing beside me, telling me how

Johannesburg was better than Germany and Lagos and so on.

As soon as Agnes finished her cooking, she dragged

me out of the kitchen into her room. She warned me

about Melinda and how rumour had it that she snatched

boyfriends.

We ate food in Agnes’ room in silence.

“You are not speaking,” Agnes said.

“My parents warned me not to talk while eating,” I said,

because I had nothing else to say.

She laughed and said she was told the same thing when

she was a kid.

When we finished eating, she took the plates to the

kitchen and washed them.

When it was time for lunch, I walked with Agnes to

the hall.

Samson Akpaka

32

After the lunch, Agnes took me outside again. We went

to a small library at the centre of town and booted up a

windows computer. It was my first time of touching that

wonderful piece of technology. She registered an email

address for me, even though I didn’t know what it was

meant for. She tried to teach me some things. I couldn’t

seem to comprehend at all.

Inside the library, we met Joan, a Kenyan single mother

who was in camp as well. She was a lovely sweet girl, probably

20 or so. Her little boy was running around everywhere. I

later picked the kid up and gave it to her mom. She thanked

me and said she was going back to camp. We were going

back too, therefore we all went outside.

On our way to the camp, I spotted a phone booth and

excused myself. I asked them to return to camp and that I

would meet them as soon as possible. I wanted to call Africa.

I put some money inside the phone booth and dialled

Nigeria. As soon as my brother picked his phone, someone

tugged on the collar of my pullover and pulled me out of the

booth. It was John, my Enemy Number One.

John pulled me out of the phone booth and started

pushing me around. I was no match for him, so I avoided

doing anything that could warrant a punch from him.

Somehow, someone saw him pushing me and called the

police. The green and white German police car had abruptly

stopped near the booth and John somehow managed to

fake a smile to show them that everything was alright. They

shouted “Ausweiss bitte!”.

We produced the temporal ID cards from the camp.

They made some calls to the camp and confirmed that our

names existed in their database

There and Back on Time

33

The two Polizei officers wrote our names down from

the ID cards we produced. They advised us; a Cameroonian

and a Sudanese not to fight again. They reminded us that

we came from the same Africa and that if we fought again,

we would be thrown into jail.

After the police advice, I left John and walked alone to

the camp. When I got to the gate, the little man at the gate

swiped my ID card for authentication as usual and asked

why I was fighting outside. He had not seen us; therefore

I wondered how he knew. I told him that we were only

practicing African martial arts; whatever that meant.

He allowed me inside.

I went to Joshua and asked him to warn John. I

threatened to report him to the authorities if he ever came

within 10-metre radius of me again. I also reported to his

two other friends.

A football game was coming up between the Africans

and Arabs. The winner would play South Americans,

and the winner would play a selected local team from

Eisenhuttenstadt, our host city, so there was practice that

afternoon; therefore we went to the field after lunch.

John the Bighead was our captain. I decided to concede

that position to him anyway, just to balance things up a little

bit. I was the goalkeeper which meant that all the ladies

were standing behind me. There were other girls I had not

seen or noticed in camp. They watched us as we practiced

all afternoon. The only goal I conceded was scored while

looking at the long slim legs of Melinda, the South African

model; it wasn’t a competition anyway, just a practice.

In the evening, I was minding myself under one tree

when Melinda the model walked majestically to my spot.

Samson Akpaka

34

“Hey goalkeeper, what’s up?” she greeted.

I answered her and got down to business immediately.

“Do you know that you are the most beautiful girl in

this place?”? I ventured.

“I know,” she answered and laughed.

“Since I was the best, why are you sleeping with Agnes?”

she asked.

The question startled me. In situations like that, I

usually kept silent for a few seconds in order to manufacture

a fitting answer. I bent down and smiled for ten seconds

before asking: “how did you know that?” I wanted to find

out what she knew before deciding whether to deny or agree.

“She told me herself,” Melinda said.

Damn, the truth was from Agnes herself, the stream had

gotten dirty from the source.

“You see” I began. “It wasn’t my intention, only that I

made a bet with some guy. He boasted that I couldn’t get

Agnes.” I said.

“A bet, you mean with Johnny” she said.

“Yea” I agreed without a second thought. Who else

could it be?

She had taken the bait and it was a one way story from

then.

My story assured Melinda that it was her that had

caught my eyes from day one. I told her how it was difficult

to approach her for the fear of her refusing my proposition.

She stayed with me under the tree for over an hour until

the dinner time.

After dinner, Melinda showed up again in front of the

male hostel, she was looking for me. A Camerounian boy

had come to call me. When I got down from my room, she

There and Back on Time

35

asked me to stroll outside with her. All the black pairs of

eyes were on us as we went behind the dining hall and sat

in a concrete bench fixed on the ground.

She started a story about how she was a top model in one

school in Durban and how she had come to Europe with a

South African contingent for a pageant. She had bolted from

their hotel and sneaked into Germany in the night. She had

figured she had a better chance of success in Europe. Her

stories were good but I was only interested in one thing; the

pleasure park between her legs.

Darkness met us at the scene and it was a perfect

venue for what I had in mind. She was telling me about

her boyfriend in South Africa when my hand accidentally

brushed past her breasts. It was a deliberate action, therefore

I didn’t apologize. I waited for her to complain but none

came so I took it as an approval. My hand found the breasts

again and this time, it wasn’t in a haste to leave them.

**********

The football match ended 4:0 in favour of the Africans

against the Arabs. The hero of the game was none other

than the goalkeeper who had somehow pulled extra

ordinary saves; even saved a penalty. The goalkeeper was

a Camerounian named Solomon Ebot who until that very

day had been associating with only the Nigerians. This was

a puzzle to unravel for the real Camerounians but one thing

was for sure; the very goalkeeper who had saved a penalty

was supposed to be a real Camerounian and not a Nigerian.

The tussle and debate of where I came from was

going on between the two countries while I had chosen

to celebrate the small fame with the ladies. The boys can

Samson Akpaka

36

fight to death for all I care. Agnes was busy telling her

friends how she had discovered my talent and advised me

to become the goalkeeper while Melinda who wasn’t so

interested in football was busy telling people how she was

going to convert me from a goalkeeper to a male model.

The previous night had produced a topic for rumour

mongers. According to the rumour, someone had seen me

kissing Melinda at the back of the dining hall in such a

compromising position. I was sure my stalker, Mr John was

responsible but I have always believed that there is nothing

like a negative publicity. I played along.

Agnes had probably heard the rumour too since she was

avoiding me like a plague.

Before the football match, we were all busy during

the morning hours. Every Monday was the pay day for all

campers. We all lined up at the financial office to receive our

weekly allowances. Everyone known to me was there except

Agnes Kaku and the Model Melinda.

The big headed snitch called John, was smiling all

through like he had won a lottery. I had a feeling he had

done something terrible but it was left for me to find out. We

were all paid €11. That was the weekly allowance for every

non processed asylum seeker in Germany between 2001

and 2003. After the pay collection, I headed straight to the

ladies hostel. I wanted to find out why my two girls had not

come to collect their allowances. Agnes had locked herself

inside the room and refused to open the door for me. After

a few knocks, I drifted down to Melinda’s room. Melinda

on the other hand, opened her own doors and welcomed

me. She welcomed me with a bottle of Cola. After the drink,

she declared my relationship with Agnes over. According to

There and Back on Time

37

her, she was the hottest in the camp and should be allowed

to choose whoever she desired; I was the chosen one. We

laughed at the small joke.

The previous night was extra ordinary. The place, despite

being dark, was in an open place. We couldn’t risk being

caught. When our organs got too excited, I had suggested

that we do it in her room the next day being Monday. She

had agreed.

And there we were, right inside her room but the

problem was that a football match was an hour away. I was

supposed to play as a goalkeeper. That simply meant that I

wouldn’t require much energy like the outfield players.

When she planted a kiss on my mouth, I had no

objection. The football match was important. According to

rumours, there were going to be prizes but there was a prize

already in my position; Melinda Mokibo.

She had just finished her bath when I came in; her towel

was still tied around her chest down to her thighs when

she opened the door for me. It was a short towel and it had

exposed her smooth legs. I kept stealing some glances and I

made her know what I was doing.

She came to sit beside me on the bed when she finished

applying some red paints all over her face. She had turned

her back towards me and removed the towel. I had watched

her slip into a short gown and asked me to zip her back.

I wanted to protest and tell her that there was no need to

wear cloths since I was going to remove them sooner or later

but since I didn’t know what was going on in her mind, I

played along.

After the zipping, she sat beside me on the only bed in

the room and crossed her right hand around my neck.

Samson Akpaka

38

One thing was very clear to me, I didn’t see her wear any

underwear and that gave me hope. The kisses were smooth

and nice but not like that of Agnes. Agnes had bigger lips. I

wasted no time as I slipped my hand inside the loose gown.

Her breasts welcomed me since there was no bra holding

them. I pushed her down on the bed and as I bent down to

bury my head between her legs, the lunch bell rang.

Those damn chefs! Couldn’t they cook late for once?

I continued what I was doing and raised her gown to

her belly level and spread her legs apart.

We ignored the lunch and continued our adventure into

the honeyland. Missing one meal was not going to kill us

and she didn’t even seem like the type that ate at all.

When we finished, she went into the bathroom and

cleaned up. We chatted for a few more minutes before the

bell rang. The football match was about to begin and no one

had any idea where I was. John the Bighead had suggested

that they looked for me in Agnes’ room but when they

couldn’t locate me there, they selected another guy to be

in goal for us. The starting whistle was about to be blown

when I showed up with Melinda to the utmost surprise of

all black eyes in the camp. Agnes was there too and was

looking at me. The new goalkeeper was told to go out while

I replaced him.

When the game was over and we had won, I became

the toast of the rest of the black girls in camp. I had saved

a penalty. Melinda came to hug and greet me after the

game while Agnes left with Joan and one other lady. I had

prepared a lie to tell Agnes. It started and ended with the

fact that John Bighead was threatening to kill me if I didn’t

stay away from her. It was a good excuse.

There and Back on Time

39

Let’s blame John not me or Melinda.

Someone has always been the better culprit, not you or me,

someone else.

During dinner, I saw Agnes and Joan seated at the back

end of the hall. Melinda did not come; therefore I walked

up to them and sat down.

“I am so disappointed in you Solomon” Agnes said with

anger. At least she had said something, which was a good

start.

“Why?” I asked. I had learnt the tricks of using single

words when I am not certain of the outcome of anything.

“Melinda has been walking around, telling everybody

you are her boyfriend now” she said.

Deny! Deny!! Deny!!!

“What are you talking about” I asked. “Look Agnes”

I continued. “I don’t know what you heard or where you

heard it from but the last time I checked, we were not

married. Secondly Melinda is not my girlfriend, I am just

trying to divert John’s attention from me” I lied.

“John’s attention? What do you mean by that?” She

asked.

The ball has just entered my court.

“John has been threatening to kill me if I don’t stay away

from you. He had punched me two days ago and it was the

intervention of the police that separated us” I continued.

“Right now, I am afraid to go out of the camp alone because

I fell in love with you”

She looked very surprised when I mentioned the police

and punch.

I had managed to arouse her pity and it was all me

against John from then on. She said she was going to warn

Samson Akpaka

40

John and report to the authorities if he ever stalk or touch

me again. I told her that it was her that I had wanted but

since my safety was at stake, it was probably better to stay

away from her.

She agreed. I also tried to let her understand why I

needed to be hanging out with Melinda so that the psycho

called John would think that I was with Melinda. She didn’t

buy into that silly excuse but she said nothing. I refused to

escort them back to the ladies hostel since we could run into

Melinda and complicate things for me.

Days went by uneventfully in the camp except, that

new people came into the camp, more Nigerians and

Camerounians, Ghanaians and Malians, Guineans and

Senegalese. The older campers were being sent out too.

The following day was my interview. It was the interview

that determined where I would be posted from the camp

and how many months I would be getting in my Ausweiss.

It was the interview that determined whether the Germans

bought into my lies about why and how I came to Germany,

and it was the same interview that would decide whether i

would be deported or not.

Most Africans spent a day to the interview praying while

the other races spent it rehearsing what they would answer.

It was a strange world where Africans depended on God

while others depended on intelligence: science and facts. I

spent that very day running after a Kenyan teenager who

had just arrived to the Camp.

I had gone to the train station to escort Melinda who

was posted out of the camp to her permanent base which was

Rathenow, a town an hour away from Berlin, the German

capital city. Melinda had just boarded her train to Berlin

There and Back on Time

41

where she would connect another train to Rathenow when

I turned to go and found a girl loitering around the station.

Her name was Awiti, which she told me meant ‘someone

born after great misfortune’. According to her, the parents

had searched for a child for over twenty years before they

gave birth to her. After introducing herself to me, she said

she had been posted to the asylum camp and didn’t know

which way to follow after getting down from the train. I told

her that I was going there. She thanked God and followed

me. When we got down from the bus in front of the Camp, I

took her to the gate and waited for her to be properly cleared.

I took her to the administrative blocks afterwards where she

got her room number, sheets and other things such as soaps

and tissues. I took her to the female hostel and showed her

the room. I helped her clean the place and spread the sheets.

She was not more than 18. She told me how she had come

to Germany.

She had boarded a ship in Mombasa and had spent over

three weeks inside the ocean until they got to Brussels. Then

someone had suggested that she go to Germany since the

refugees got better packages over there. It was a nice story

but I only listened because she had no other friend yet. I had

heard enough of the same lies before her arrival. According

to her, she was told that she will meet many Nigerians in the

camp. She had asked if I was Nigerian and I had denied. I

was a Cameroonian and I wished to remain that until I got

out of the Camp.

The ladies rooms had bathrooms inside. I had waited

for her in the room while she took her bath and changed

clothes.

Samson Akpaka

42

Unlike men, women usually came to camp with some

clothes. When she came out of the bathroom, I offered to

show her around.

I took Awiti around, showing her everywhere that

mattered. We went for lunch and dinner together. She kept

thanking me every now and then and I told her not to

worry, that I also had no friends in camp except her. After

the dinner, I saw John Bighead and his squad going out of

camp, their interview had been conducted the day before

and they were just waiting for their dispatch notice to know

where they had been posted.

The major and the final interview was what every camper

looked forward to. It was the interview that determined

everything. Whether the authorities would believe your

story or not came from what you said at the interview.

People usually prepared so much for this interview. Since

almost everybody was going to lie during the interview, it

was good that one get properly prepared. It was from the

interview venue that people whose stories were not believed

go from the asylum camp to the deportation camp next

door. Every hope of living in Germany was hinged on the

interview.

Thirty minutes to my interview, I walked out of the

female hostel where I had slept the previous night. I had

followed Awiti to her room after the dinner and slept there

until morning. That was the first time I slept in the female

hostel. I had spent two weeks in the camp before then. I

walked down to my room and freshened up. I had forced

myself to say some prayers. To my greatest surprise, I had

forgotten the simplest Catholic prayers such as ‘Our Lord’s

There and Back on Time

43

prayer’ and ‘’Hail Mary’. I didn’t know what to say, so I just

mumbled “God help me”’ and went outside.

I saw Mike outside and told him I was going for my

interview. He wished me good luck and I left.

Three minutes to 8 am, I entered the interview room

and met my interviewer and the interpreter seated already.

Those Germans were never late for appointment.

“Guten Morgen” I greeted them in German and smiled.

The interviewer was very impressed. He nodded and

smiled too. Almost everybody he had interviewed previously

had denied knowing any German; even the simplest ones

such as Kommen (come). But in my own case, according to

him, I learnt fast. That must have scored me a good mark.

“Nemen sie ein platz” (take a seat) he said.

I pretended not to have heard what he said as I stood

there and gazed at him until he pointed towards the chair.

Then I sat down.

I actually knew what he said and I understood it perfectly.

The point was that I didn’t want to overdo anything. The

‘good morning’ I had said in German was already enough.

It was a game of intelligence.

“Wie heiss du?” (What is your name?) He asked me.

That was an easy question and every normal person who

had lived in Germany for at least one week was expected to

know that. I wasn’t going to play dumb again; therefore I

told them my names.

Game on.

After the normal identification process, the question

moved to how I came to Germany. I started my story; it

goes thus;

Samson Akpaka

44

I had been born in Bamenda, North West Cameroun

in 1980.

I actually gave them my real date of birth. I didn’t want

many complications since subsequent events that would require

me to say the date offhand was surely going to come up again.

My father was a native doctor while my mother had

joined the Church people who had come from Portugal

to Cameroun. As a little boy, I joined the church too with

my younger sister. The name of our Church was St Peters

Catholic Church Bamenda. The name of our Reverend

Father was Luis Gomez.

I had chosen the names from Luis Figo and Nuno

Gomez, two popular Portuguese footballers at that time.

Paul Biya was the name of our president.

One night, the police had invaded our home and

captured my father. They said he was anti-Biya. They took

him away. We were in the church when the police came,

they didn’t see me with my sister and mother. When we

heard what happened, we told Rev. Father Gomez, who sent

us away to Douala, another city in Cameroun. It was from

Douala that I boarded a ship.

When I mentioned Douala, he halted me and looked

at the map of Africa on his table. Then he nodded and

I continued. Since I said I boarded a ship in Douala, he

probably checked if Douala has a sea port. I covered every

detail anyway.

My mother and sister were told that there was no more

space in the ship, so they didn’t join me. I didn’t know their

whereabouts. We had no phone and there was no way I

could contact them.

There and Back on Time

45

My expression had changed from smiles to anger and

depression as I narrated my cooked up story.

The ship I entered took me many days, about two weeks

to reach Lamburg. (Hamburg).

I twisted some names to suit my amateur story about

Germany and its cities.

When we got to Lamburg, a man in the ship gave me an

overall red coat and a red cap. Something starting with ‘V’

was written on the cap and the coat. I couldn’t remember

what it was that was written on them except the ‘V’.

They told me to wear the coat and cover my face with

the cap. I did what they said and they told me to walk out

of the ship. When I came out, I was stopped by some men;

they showed me a card and said they were polizei. Then

they asked me for my passport and I told them that I had

none. They took me away and handed me over to a man.

They told the man to send me to asylum camp. The man

was going to a city called Dussorf (Dusseldorf). I followed

him to Dussorf where he showed me to a ship inside water

and walked away. I entered the place he showed me and they

sent me there (camp).

The interviewer asked if I had gone to school and I told

him that I stopped at elementary 3. It was in the school

that I had learnt to write and read. They were surprised

when I said I could read and write. Every other African

man had denied ever going to school. I just wanted a little

deviated story, so I had been drafting the ideas since I got

the interview date. There was no kind of story they have not

heard from asylum seekers.

Some Africans said they had walked all the way from

Africa to Germany. Some said they used horses to ride from

Samson Akpaka

46

Africa to Germany. Some said they jumped into the ocean

to avoid being killed and swam all the way from Africa to

Germany. One person even said that his father who was a

native doctor had given him two eggs. When he broke one

egg, he found himself in Germany. He even showed them

the remaining egg and asked them to hold his hand while he

broke the remaining egg, they decried of course. Someone

said he had flown like a bird from Chad to Germany.

My story was different and perfect with no room for

errors or so I believed.

When I finished my story, they asked that I choose a

country in Africa where I would like to be sent. I mentioned

London. They said London was not in Africa. I pretended

to be surprised.

“How could London not be in Africa? I heard so many

black people live there.” I told them. I also suggested that

they send me to New York since London was not in Africa.

They laughed among themselves.

After writing down everything I had said, he asked a

few more questions, and then he told me to go.

The interview took over an hour. When I walked out of

the venue, Awiti was waiting for me outside. She had waited

for an hour according to her. She was afraid I was going to

fail the interview and got bundled into a permanent waiting

police van and whisked away to the deportation camp. She

hugged me in public and took my hand.

“I bought Doner Kebap for you” she said. Doner is a

Turkish dish.

I followed her to her room and ate the Kebab.

In the afternoon, we walked to the mall and bought

juice and cola. We sat under a lonely tree and talked. She

There and Back on Time

47

had obviously fallen in love with me and she was not afraid

to show it in public. I felt at ease with her and told her that

I was a Nigerian and not Camerounian. I had taken my

interview and I was half safe.

We sat there and missed lunch. I wasn’t hungry anyway.

John Bighead had softened up on me since he found out I

had jilted Agnes. There was no longer any danger going to

the forest park, so I put my hand around Awiti’s neck and

we walked to the park. There were few white people playing

with their dogs in the park. We drifted down to a lonely

place and continued drinking beer I had bought. We were

playing Romeo and Juliet too; throwing peanuts into each

other’s mouth and kissing in public like the white people

were doing.

At about 6pm, it was time for dinner. Awiti had not

started cooking and it was either we go back or go to bed

without food. A unanimous decision to go back to the camp

was reached. As I got up and helped her to get up from the

ground, I heard a voice coming out of the bush behind us.

“Women will destroy you in this country,”

I turned around and saw John Bighead emerging from

the bush. Awiti, who had not seen or known who John was,

just stood there and stared at the guy coming out from the

bush while I thought how best to handle the situation.

“I think you have a mental problem” I said to him in

Igbo language.

The idea was to drag the issue away from Awiti as much I

could. I was beginning to like her so much. But the mischief

maker insisted on speaking English.

“It is your father that has mental problem” he said while

maintaining a considerable distance between us.

Samson Akpaka

48

I took Awiti’s hand and started walking out of the park.

It was a ten minute-walk to the camp. John followed us

behind, talking about what he would have done to me if the

environment was different.

People were being posted out of camp on a daily basis

while new campers were being admitted. Some of the people

I knew had been posted out. I would go to the notice board

every morning to check on my name but I knew that it

would take at least logically two weeks after my interview.

Awiti’s interview came up a week before my departure. We

had rehearsed her story over and over again.

According to her story, she was a Somali in camp since

there was no political crisis in Kenya.

“Tell me your story as if I am your interviewer” I had

said to her a day before her interview.

She began,

“My name is Awiti Mulonga, I was born in Mogadishu,

Somalia on July 20, 1985. I had been kidnapped by some group

of men who kept me until some soldiers rescued me through a

gun battle. The soldiers took me to a hospital managed by the

Red Cross Society. It was the Red Cross that brought me to

Europe. We were five in numbers that followed the Red Cross

to France. Then two of us ran away in the night. We found a

man in France who promised to help us. He took us to his house

and gave us food. Then one evening, he came into our room and

molested me while the other girl went out”

“This is where you start crying” I reminded her

She continued “He threatened to throw me out of the

house if I said a word of the molestation to anybody. When the

other girl returned, she found out what had happened. Then

she suggested that we ran away”

There and Back on Time

49

“This is where you stop crying if the Germans don’t pet

you to stop,” I interrupted again.

She continued. “When the ticket conductors met us in

the train, they found out that we had no ticket. They took

us and handed us to the police who later took us to a place

where we were documented. I was sent here while the other

girl was sent to a place I don’t know” she finished.

After her narration, I conducted the Q&A session.

ME: What about your parents?

Awiti: I never met my mother. They said she died when I

was a kid. I grew up in a motherless baby’s home. My father

was a soldier, I have not heard from him in years.

ME: Which other country in Africa would you like us

to send you?

Awiti: California

ME: Would you recognize the Red Cross people who

brought you if you see them?

Awiti: Yes.

ME: Would you like to be sent back to Somalia?

Awiti: No (starts crying again).

The story was alright. She did very well. I told her to

remember everything. The Germans had a way of derailing

your planned story.

When I got back to the Men’s hostel, John Bighead

was going out with his small bag. I turned around and

congratulated him. Then I wished him good luck in his

future endeavours. I told him that it was all a game and fun

while it lasted. I also told him that life was all about winning

and losing some things.

***********

Samson Akpaka

50

Blast from the Past

Efuah was my ex-girlfriend. I had met her in Ghana

during one of my business trips while I was still in Africa.

We dated for some time before I left Africa for Germany.

I had gone outside the Eisenhuttenstadt camp that day

and called her to say hello.

“How have you been Efuah?”

“I think I am pregnant,” she answered over the phone.

“What…t…t did you ju…j, just say?” I stammered.

“I think I am pregnant. I have been vomiting and my

mum said I could be pregnant,” she said and started crying.

“Don’t cry Efuah, it’s good news. The only problem here

is that I am far away now but I will come back soon,” I said

out of the need to say something.

What was Efuah talking about? I was going to be a

father?? Wow. The excitement was there but then I was

thousands of miles away from Africa.

“What do you intend to do now that I am not there?”

I asked.

“My mother said that I should abort it but I want to

keep it,” she replied.

We spoke on the phone for several minutes. I told her

that I would be out of the camp in a week’s time and get

my own phone. I promised to take care of the baby but she

said she can do that. She just wanted me to know what was

happening. She hung up and I called my elder brother in

Nigeria. He advised me to concentrate on what I was doing

in Germany.

***************

There and Back on Time

51

Adaeze Okoronkwo, native of Ngodo Isuochi in Abia

state Nigeria arrived at the Camp. Some people had gathered

near the Camp gate, and when I approached them, I was

told that there was a fight. Two young Nigerian men had

been fighting over who would become Adaeze’s boyfriend.

The two men had previously quarrelled over something a

few days ago. The Adaeze saga was just another one. Since I

was a Camerounian in camp and I was already waiting for

my posting, I didn’t want to involve myself in the fight. I

asked who the Adaeze was and someone pointed me in her

direction. I left the war zone and strolled towards the new

catch. She was a beautiful tall slim girl. As I approached her,

Awiti came out of nowhere and held my hand.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

I gave her a silly excuse about how I went to the park to

concentrate and pray to my God. “There was a lot of noise

in the camp and my God didn’t really like noise”. I said

She laughed hard.

I took Awiti to a hidden corner where Adaeze could

not see us. I was still going to approach Adaeze, just not

then. Awiti and I talked about how we were going to unite

if we were posted to different cities. She had already made

a good plan, a plan that favoured her alone. According to

her, we were going to relocate to Munich and find a cheap

apartment. We will find work through the help of her aunt

who had lived in Munich for many years. We will work for

a year or two, save enough money and get married. Then

live happily ever after. It was such a sweet plan; the only

problem on it was that,

Samson Akpaka

52

i. There was nowhere in the plan where I was to fulfil

my dream of driving a BMW.

ii. The plan did not cover Efuah and her pregnancy.

It did not cover my family back home in Nigeria.

iii. I didn’t see where the plan covered my ambition of

traveling all over the world when I got my papers

and above all, I didn’t see how the plan covered how

I was going to get a permanent resident permit.

I agreed on her plan anyway and smiled on it too. It

was getting dark, so I advised her to go to her hostel while

I prepared for the evening prayers.

When she left, I went back into the open place to look

for Adaeze but couldn’t find her.

During the evening prayers, I saw Adaeze. There were

also two Camerounian ladies who hardly joined when we

sang in Igbo language, a Kenyan girl, Agnes the Ugandan

and one other lady I didn’t know where she came from.

Adaeze had somehow made it to the prayer venue. I

didn’t know who invited her but she was there before I came.

“I will enter his gate with thanksgiving in my heart”

I started that song as soon as I entered the hall and saw

Adaeze. I had known that young African girls admire a

God-fearing man, so I switched to holy mode. After the

song, I switched to Igbo songs.

“I di nma idi Ukwu oh Chineke, Onye kelu Uwa Idi nma,

Nma girl Zuru Oke” I sang in Igbo. The Camerounians and

other people who didn’t understand Igbo had to take things

as they saw it, there was a price at stake; Adaeze Okoronkwo.

People had different reasons for coming to the prayer venue

to pray and sing. Some were to ask God to help them avoid

There and Back on Time

53

deportation. Some were to ask for help for their health,

the imminent interview, general well-being and so on. I,

Solomon the great, was singing those Igbo songs just to,

first of all, make Adaeze know that I was an Igboman; Her

dear brother from Biafra Republic who was the only person

she could run to for help. My second reason was not clear

for now.

After the prayers, I hugged my Bible with my left hand

on my chest like a pastor and waved goodnight to everybody

with my right. I acted the evangelist. Even Awiti was curious

but it would take her many days to unravel the mysteries

behind the act.

The following day, a new list of names had been

posted on the notice board; names of people that had been

transferred to their permanent bases in Germany. My name

was at the top. I had been posted to Brandenburg an der

Havel; the city that gave the state of Brandenburg its name.

Rumour had it that the city was the best around the whole

East Germany. As I scrolled down the list to check the other

names posted to the same city, on number nine was Agnes

Kaku, the first girl that fell in love with me in camp. A small

smile formed on my face as soon as I saw her name but I

didn’t let it show. She was standing right next to me and

as soon as she saw her name, she looked at me and smiled.

*************

Goodbye Eisenhuttenstadt.

As soon as you got posted out of camp, you were

expected to leave camp that day or the following morning.

They normally gave out train tickets to wherever they posted

Samson Akpaka

54

you. The newly posted people were scrambling for tickets at

the office that morning but I was not in haste. I had spent

a month and ten days in the camp, there was no reason to

be in haste. I intended to travel the following morning.

I left the notice board and headed to the female hostel. I

needed to tell my little girl, Awiti that I had been posted. I

was wearing blue jean trousers. The same jean I had been

wearing for three days. She was lying on the bed when I

knocked and went inside. She got up as soon as she saw me

and closed the Gideon bible she was reading.

“Baby did you know that Jesus fed five thousand

people with two loaves of bread?” she said as if it happened

a week ago.

“Yes, I know, If you read a little bit down the book,

you will also see where he starved for forty days and forty

nights.”

Awiti was a Muslim; she had come to our prayer ground

because of me.

“Baby, but how can someone live for forty days without

eating?” she asked

“The same way someone could feed five thousand people

with two loaves of bread,” I answered.

“They have posted me out,” I said, interrupting her next

Jesus question.

She said nothing. She just stared at me as if I had said

something that didn’t matter.

“Baby it means that I am leaving the camp today or

tomorrow” I said again.

The today or tomorrow seemed to have jolted her. Her

face redddened and it took less than a minute for it to dissolve

into tears. I watched her cry for about three minutes before

There and Back on Time

55

I began to console her. I made promises upon promises on

how I was going to return to camp as soon as I got myself

registered at the auslander behoder or Amt. (foreign office).

She didn’t say anything as I continued my promises. I

reminded her about our plans to live together after camp,

how we were going to get married and have beautiful kids

that will resemble me.

“No, our kids will resemble me” she said with a smile

amidst tears still running down her face.

I dipped my hand into my pocket and brought out my

handkerchief to clean her tears and a used condom fell out

of my pocket unto the ground.

We both looked at it together and looked at each other,

and then back to the condom lying on the floor.

“What is this” she said.

‘It is a condom” I said.

“I know what it is Solomon but what are you doing

with this” she said. Her face had started changing again.

The tears that had gone back to her head were scrambling

to come out again.

I bent my head in a shamed manner and kept quiet. She

was asking me a million questions and reminding me about

all the promises I made to her.

“I slept with a German lady yesterday evening,” I confessed as I raised my head up.

She started crying again and asked me to leave her room.

I tried to plead with her but she pushed me out of the room

and locked herself inside. I stood at her door for several

minutes begging her to open the door but she refused.

I left the female hostel and headed to the administrative

office to get my ticket and posting letter. When I collected

Samson Akpaka

56

them, I went to my room and packed my remaining one

jean and two shirts into a small paper bag. I was tempted to

leave camp immediately but on a second thought, I decided

to try Awiti again. I loved her really but I never considered

marrying her for one day, not in the condition we found

each other. When I got to her room, she had opened the

door but was not inside. I went in and waited for her. Some

minutes later, she came in from the kitchen and saw me

sitting quietly.

“I told you to leave me alone1”, she shouted as soon as

she came in.

I stood up calmly, looked her in the face and said,

“Listen carefully Awiti, we met in this camp and If we end

our relationship in this camp, it will just be another closed

chapter in my life. I will get hurt for losing you, I will cry

over it, but the truth remains that I will not kill myself over

it, I will heal with time” I continued. “I am going to step out

of this door and as soon as I get outside, there is no turning

back” I said.

“I don’t care, you can go to hell,” she retorted.

I turned the door handle and opened it. I stepped

outside and went straight to my room. My paper bag was

on the bed the same way I left it. I grabbed it and came

downstairs. As I stepped on the single concrete road leading

to the main camp gate, I saw Awiti coming up towards me

from the female hostel. About five meters behind her was

my former beauty queen Agnes with her bags. Awiti came

up to me first and stood opposite me. I looked beyond her

and looked at Agnes.

There and Back on Time

57

“Are you traveling to Brandenburg today” I asked Agnes

as she approached us. She hesitated a bit before answering,

“yes.”

“Good, because I am traveling right now as well” I said.

Awiti just stood there looking from Agnes to me and back to

Agnes again. She had nothing to say as I grabbed the bigger

of Agnes’ two bags and lead the way towards the camp gate.

As I approached the gate, I looked back and saw Awiti

standing like a statue about hundred meters away. Agnes

was right beside me.

“She doesn’t look too happy” Agnes said.

“Yes” I replied her.

“I just told her that I had never loved her and that it was

you that my heart had always been with” I lied.

She looked at me, turned and looked at Awiti then at

me again.

“Poor little girl” she said and held my hand as we stepped

out of the gate into the cold vast land of Germany.

58

CHAPTER FOUR

Brandenburg an der Havel

We got to Brandenburg an der Havel at exactly 4 pm

on a cold October evening. There was no direct train from

Eisenhuttenstadt to Brandenburg. We had changed at Berlin

Ostbanhof Station; One of the three largest stations in Berlin

and the entire East Germany. My stay with Agnes in the

train was awkward. There was no tangible topic to discuss,

so we just kept quiet and concentrated on ourselves. When

we got down at Berlin Ostbanhof, we sat down inside the

station and ate peanuts. Our next train was 30 minutes

away.

“Did you really tell that little girl what you said to me?”

Agnes asked me.

“No, I did not,” I answered.

She looked at me for more explanations.

“She found a used condom on me and freaked out,” I

said further.

Agnes looked at me and said nothing.

“I had sex with a fat German woman yesterday at her

place and forgot to throw the damn thing away, I begged

her to forget what happened but she refused, so here we are”

I explained. “I believe in destiny, Agnes and whatever that

will be will surely be,” I finished.

She just kept quiet and listened. I told her that when I

first came into the camp, it was her that stole my heart and

There and Back on Time

59

attention, and then Melinda surfaced and passed through.

I also told her that Awiti was just part of my history which

I would write someday. I told her that destiny was more

interested in keeping me and her together and it was left for

us to work on making it count. She said nothing as I led her

through wise sayings and divine jargon. I was the prophet,

Solomon the Wise.

When our train arrived, we boarded it to Brandenburg

an der Havel. When we got out at the Brandenburg train

station, a bus was standing outside. We asked the driver if

he was going to Heim. (Heim was a permanent base where

the asylum seekers were accommodated until the Germans

certified you good enough to live among the population. We

were in Eastern Germany where racism was still rampant, so

keeping us together was for our own security).

The bus driver nodded and we entered the bus. The

ticket we collected from camp did not cover the bus, so we

bought new tickets. Ten minutes later, we arrived in front

of the Brandenburg Heim. A fat middle aged woman (We

later gave her a nickname; Iyi) opened the house door as

we pressed the bell. We presented our papers to her. She

directed us to the office inside the house where we were

cleared properly.

There were two buildings inside the compound. One

was a two storey building with many rooms while the

smaller one at the back was a one storey building with selfcontain

rooms. The big one belonged to the males while the

one at the back was the female house. It was different from

camp but not much different. I was given room 22 which

I was supposed to share with a Cameroonian man. Agnes

Samson Akpaka

60

was taken to the female house and given a self-contained

one room apartment.

The monthly allowances for each of us were €199.40

euros. We were given a fraction of that amount since we

came in the middle of October. There were some other Igbo

men at the Heim when we arrived; Johnson from Abiriba,

Jordan from Nnewi, Tony from Ekwulobia, Chibuzor from

Ozubulu and Filas from Nanka.

Then there were also two Esan girls. Jordan was dating

one while the other one hardly stayed in the Heim.

When I dropped my paper bag and received my money,

I went to the shopping mall called Eurospar which was 200

meters away. On my way to the mall, I saw Johnson and

Jordan with some other Guinean men loitering along the

road but didn’t know what they were doing.

At the mall, I bought a big coca cola bottle and sweet

bread and headed back to the Heim. I went to my room and

ate, and then I slept for an hour or so. I woke up and headed

to the female house, it was in the same place and it took me a

minute to enter inside. Agnes had told me her room number

when we were collecting our money. I knocked on room 15

and entered. The female rooms were very neat and bigger.

It had its own bathroom unlike those in the male house. I

offered her some of the bread I bought but she declined. We

chatted for an hour before I went back to my room. There

was no restriction whatsoever in the Heim. A man can go

to the woman’s house at any time.

We were finally free, or so I thought.

**********

There and Back on Time

61

The Drug Experience

First thing the following morning, I went into the old

city of Brandenburg. It was as they said, a historic city which

hosted Adolf Hitler and his first ever concentration camp.

I trekked to the city centre and looked around. Everything

was neat and organized. People were busy doing their

businesses. There were many Turkish people selling small

items along the roads. I entered a shop and bought a small

Siemens mobile phone and a sim card; it cost me about €40..

The same people I saw the day before loitering on the

road between the Heim and Eurospar shopping mall were

there again. I greeted and passed them on my way back into

the Heim. I brought a carefully hidden piece of paper where

I had written down some phone numbers. I first of all dialled

my brother in Nigeria and told him I had been posted out

of camp. He suggested that I went back to Afam in Essen

and join him in whatever he was doing there. I then called

Efuah in Ghana and told her that I had left camp and that

the phone number she saw on the screen of her phone was

mine. She was very excited. We talked about life in general,

about our future and what was going to happen with her

pregnancy. She promised to take care of herself pending the

time I would be ready to return to Africa.

After terminating the call, I called some of my old

friends and shared my phone number with them. I called

Matthew in Oberhausen, the guy who had welcomed me,

but his number was switched off. I called Afam in Essen

and told him that I had been posted out of camp. I told

him where I was and he asked me to join him in Essen if

there was nothing for me to do in Brandenburg. Then I

Samson Akpaka

62

called Nnenna, the first girl I slept with in Germany. She

was very happy to hear my voice. She invited me to Essen

immediately and I told her that I would come as soon as

possible.

After the calls, I stood by the window and watched as

white people passed in front of the Heim, then passed again

after a few minutes. I wondered what was going on but

couldn’t figure it out.

In the afternoon, I went to the Eurospar and bought a

full chicken, tomato paste, a 2kg sack of rice, flavours and

pepper. I went back and made stew. There were pots and

spoons, plates and cups in each room. There were also a

fridge, a wardrobe, a bed, a cupboard and a single reading

chair and table. The cooking gas was in the kitchen which

was used by all of us living on the second floor. The kitchen

contained six electric gas stoves. It was a big kitchen, the size

of two standard rooms.

I was already bored and there was nothing to do, so I

headed to the female house again.

“Nna, ibu onye Igbo?” (Are you an Igbo man?) A voice

asked as I passed the first floor on my way down. It was

Johnson. He was from Abiriba in Abia state Nigeria. I

answered in the affirmative, and he took me to his room on

the first floor. He brought out some beers. We drank as we

chatted about life in the Heim.

I asked him what they did to make money in the camp

and he promised to let me in the next day. He advised me

to rest for the day. He asked me about the lady who came

with me the previous day. I told him she was from the same

camp as me. I denied having anything going between me

and her. I had seen that he was interested in Agnes and I

There and Back on Time

63

wasn’t going to drag woman matters with someone who was

going to show me some business the next day. I believed he

decided to let me in because of the girl but I decided to play

dumb. Time will come when we will see who the master

was. When Johnson went out again, I went to Agnes. I told

her that I made rice, she refused to follow me. She said I

should go and bring some for her. I did. I later took her

to buy a cell phone too. We came back in the evening and

separated again.

My fellow Igbo guys were chatting and joking when

we came in. I greeted and joined them but kept quiet in a

corner. Police had somehow come to where they were doing

whatever they did and they had returned back to the Heim.

I listened since I had no clue what they were saying.

We drank and ate chicken meat before everybody went to

his room.

The following morning, I went to the train station and

headed to Essen Westphalia.

I arrived at the Essen Central station at about 4:30 pm. I

had changed trains in Magdeburg – Hannover – Braunschweig

and Dortmund. The train timetable was printed and given

to me when I bought the ticket at the Brandenburg station.

I called Afam when I got to Essen. He directed me

to their Heim in Essen West. Theirs was far better than

ours. Their state Westphalia was the richest state out of

the sixteen states that made up Germany. The Westphalia

state boasted of (Koln) Cologne, Dusseldorf, Essen,

Aachen, Monchenglabach, Bielefeld, Duisburg, Dortmund,

Mulheim and even Gelscheinkirchen; the city of Schalke 04

football club.

Samson Akpaka

64

Other cities such as Oberhausen, Fulda and many large

cities were also situated in Westphalia. It was obviously the

largest state too in terms of population concentration.

When I got to Afam’s Heim, he took me outside and

bought some beer and chicken. I cooked the stew in their

kitchen while he moulded and smoked marijuana. There was

one other man who shared his room with him. His name

was Emeka, a dreadlocks sporting body builder.

When we finished eating, we went back to Oberhausen

to get my bag from Matthew. I had called him again but his

phone was still switched off. When we got to Oberhausen,

we entered an Afro shop where a Yoruba man sold African

food items. We asked him if he had seen Matthew recently.

We wanted to ask around before going to ring his bell. The

news we got from the man shocked us. Matthew had been

arrested over one month ago, precisely in August, on charges

of suspected of drug dealing. The police had monitored him

for many nights before he was arrested. My mind flashed

back to the day I and Nnenna saw Matthew being dragged

out of the car and into his apartment. That was the day I

left for the Camp. I was nearly caught in the net too. If I

had been in the house when they brought Matthew, nothing

would have stopped them from arresting me too.

We left Oberhausen and went back to Essen, Matthew

could have my bag. I called Nnenna and asked after

Matthew, she said he was arrested in August but she didn’t

want to tell me yet. She also said that all those nights when

Matthew claimed to have gone to work were actually drug

deals. Her tone made it look like she didn’t care. Matthew

was a guy who kept her in the house and gave her his keys.

Matthew was also planning to take me out before he was

There and Back on Time

65

arrested. I felt for him but I also knew instantly that such

fate may be awaiting me too.

I told Nnenna that I was in Essen, she asked where I

was and I told her. She promised to come in the night and

pick me up. About 9 pm, Afam said he was going out to

Dortmund. He told me plainly that he was going to “Ogboo”

{the venue where they sold cocaine to Germans).

He asked me to stay in Essen. His reasons were that

I needed to first of all, learn how to keep the drugs inside

my mouth and how to swallow them if I suspected police

presence. It was a little scary story, so I agreed to stay back

in Essen for the time being. Twenty minutes after Afam left,

Nnenna called and said she was downstairs. I walked down

and met her. She was with a white guy inside a car. She asked

how I had been and what I intended to do from then on. We

chatted for a few minutes before we all got back into the car

and drove to her hostel.

She lived in a general students’ hostel. Although it was a

big hostel, she had her own room which was well decorated.

The white guy had dropped us and left. She made salad for

me while we talked.

She told me she might be pregnant but not for me. I

didn’t really care since my clear objective at that time was

how to make money. I didn’t want anything whatsoever

to tie me down. When I finished chewing the salad like a

hungry goat, she sat beside me and lay on my shoulder. Her

mouth had found mine and we continued where we stopped

two months earlier.

***********

Samson Akpaka

66

First Taste of Hardship

Nnenna insisted that we made love that night. She had

missed me so much, according to her. The white guy was a

course mate at the University. I had wanted to know, out of

silly jealousy before I touched her. She was not really sure

if she was pregnant but she had missed her period and the

date had passed by one week; it had never happened to her

before, according to her.

At about 3 am, she called a taxi for me since I insisted

on going back to Afam’s Heim. Afam could return anytime

and it would be bad to keep him outside in the cold.

At about 7 am, there was a knock on the door. I thought

it was Afam but when I opened the door, I saw two young

German police officers.

‘’Guten Morgen,’’ They greeted and asked for my

Ausweiss.

I left the door open and got my Identity card from my

trouser pocket. I put on my clothes as they examined my

Ausweiss and said I wasn’t supposed to be in Essen. They told

me that my permit allowed me to stay only in The State of

Brandenburg.

Please note that Brandenburg is a state in East

Germany. Brandenburg an der Havel is a City Inside the

State. Brandenburg an der Havel was the capital city of

Brandenburg State but after the World war 2, 70% of the

city was destroyed due to the concentration camp located

there. As a result, the neighbouring city called Potsdam had

taken over as the capital city.

The police officers wrote something on a piece of paper

and gave me. They took my Ausweiss and said they would

There and Back on Time

67

send it back to Brandenburg. They asked me to leave Essen

instantly and threatened to handcuff me and send me back

if they saw me there again when they return. They asked the

Heim keeper not to allow me inside again too.

I suspected Emeka, Afam’s roommate had called them

but I had no evidence. I asked the police officers to give me

transport money since I had none, they turned away and

left. I stood there like someone who had lost his phone and

thought about the next thing to do.

Going back to Nnenna wasn’t an option, not with her

quest and concentration on pregnancy; nobody was going

to tie me down in one place.

I called Afam and told him what had happened. He

called one of his friends Ugoo, and told him to accommodate

me until he returned. I met Ugoo at the Essen Delvig train

station and we went to another Heim. Ugoo was living

in the same room with a Benin young man. I forgot his

name. In the afternoon, Ugoo left to hustle outside. He

didn’t tell the Benin guy that I was going to hang in there

until evening. When the Benin guy wanted to go out, he

asked me to go outside. I tried to explain to him that I was

Afam’s cousin but he insisted on me staying out in the cold. I

called Afam again and told him what had happened. He was

furious on the phone. He called Ugoo and told him. Ugoo

called one young lady from Zambia or Zimbabwe who lived

in the same Heim with them. She came and took me out

from the cold and we went back inside her own room. She

was very upset at how they handled me. She made hot coffee

and gave me. We got talking about things in general. I told

her how it had been so far. She then advised that I go back

to my Heim and find out what was happening there first.

Samson Akpaka

68

Towards the evening, she made some Zimbabwean

food and we ate. It was a little cold inside, she didn’t put

the electric heater on; she said she didn’t like it much. She

noticed that I was feeling cold and asked me to lie on the

bed and cover myself, I did.

Twenty minutes later, she got tired of sitting and wanted

to lie down too, so she crept into the bed and lay beside me. I

covered her with the same blanket and some moments under

the blanket, our lips magically found each other.

**********

No Place like Home

When I left the lady’s room and went back to Ugoo,

Afam was there drinking beer; I joined him. We finished

the beer and I told Afam that I would be going back to

Brandenburg in the morning. He agreed it was a good idea

and that I should find out what other people were doing in

that area.

I slept in Ugoo’s room and in the morning, I called

Afam and told him that I needed money for transport fare.

He said he had no money with him and asked that I wait

until the evening.

Instead of doing nothing the whole day, I decided to

follow Moses, a guy I met in the Heim, down to a place

where they worked. It was a warehouse where business men

from Nigeria loaded their goods for export to Nigeria. We

got a job to load a 40feet container with used fridges and

freezers. Moses asked his colleagues that I joined them.

We loaded the container and I got €50 as my share. It was

There and Back on Time

69

enough for my transport back to Brandenburg since it was

weekend.

There was one other businessman who had bought

radiators and A/C fans. I helped him arrange them and he

gave me another €20. When I got back in the evening, Afam

had not come to Ugoo’s Heim like he said. I waited for him.

When he got back, he gave me €30 and asked me to use

the evening ticket. We went together to the Essen Central

Station where I boarded the Inter City Express train (ICE,

the fastest of all trains in Europe).

We used a different route to Berlin through Wolfsburg

and Spandau. I stopped at Berlin Zoo Garten station and

entered a smaller train down to Brandenburg an der Havel.

************

The Drug World

I had returned to Brandenburg in the early hours of

Saturday. I collected my key from Iyi, the lady receptionist

and went up to my room. I had kept my key with her

because I shared the room with a Camerounian man named

Sandis. When I settled down, I called Agnes to inform her

that I was back in the Heim. She said she had left the Heim

too. She had traveled to Berlin to stay with her cousin since

there was no business for ladies in the Heim. She said she

would return at the end of the month for her allowances.

I slept afterwards and when I woke up, I went to

Johnson’s room to ask him what they did to make money

in the Camp. There was no need to ask because as soon as he

opened the door for me to enter, I saw a heap of marijuana.

He was putting them in small sachets of one gram each.

Samson Akpaka

70

He explained that they packed them in 1g and sold them

to the Germans outside. He said each one of them cost €8

or 2 sachets for €15. He said I could sell 1 sachet for €7.50

if the buyer had the change. I sat down and joined him

to pack the weeds inside the small sachets. Since we were

not measuring the marijuana to make sure it was actually

more or less than 1g, he explained that I had to make sure

that it was less instead of more. We finished tying 100g of

marijuana and we got 110 sachets instead of 100 sachets. It

was fun as I learnt the ropes.

That afternoon, Johnson gave me fifteen sachets and

asked me to follow him. We went outside the Heim and

buried our goods on the ground along the road, and then we

started loitering along the roads like I had seen when I first

came. There were other people too. Most of the customers

already had their phone numbers. They usually called before

coming. Whenever I saw a customer coming, I would rush

to him or her only to be told that he or she had called

Johnson or Jordan or Tony or one of the Fulani people from

Guinea. They would laugh at me. They all even knew each

other’s customers because when Jordan’s customer showed

up without call, every other person would allow Jordan to

sell. Those terrorists sold all their goods while my 15 pieces

remained buried in the ground. I nearly wept.

An hour into the business, most of them went upstairs

inside the Heim, I remained outside. I was determined to

make a sale. Two minutes after they left, a young girl, about

18 years old strolled up to me and said, “Has du grass?” (Do

you have grass?).

I didn’t understand German but what else could she be

asking me?

There and Back on Time

71

I nodded and stretched my hand for money first.

Attaboy, pay before service. The perfect businessman had

arrived in Brandenburg.

She looked at me curiously. She had not seen my face

before and didn’t know if I sold good weeds or not. There

were different types of weeds sold there; skunk, white widow,

Thai weed, Super skunk and so on.

“Wo ist Tony?” (Where is Tony) she asked.

Why was this girl asking for Tony while I was here?

I looked back and saw Tony coming. The girl had called

him on the phone. Tony gave her two sachets and went back

upstairs.

What kind of wickedness is this? I thought.

How could he come down to grab €15 that nearly

entered my hand? That was it, I had had enough.

I dug up my goods and went upstairs. They were all in

the kitchen when I came up. They asked how much I sold

and when they found out I had sold nothing, they joked

and laughed at me.

In the evening of the same day, I followed them down

again. Although I was discouraged to follow them but there

was nothing else to do. I buried my goods again inside the

same spot and went far ahead of them to look for customers.

Sure, they had to be new customers who didn’t have their

numbers. Luckily for me, I got one man. The problem was

the language. Those skin heads didn’t understand, ‘give me

money’ in any other language except German. I stopped

the man and asked for money in English, he didn’t bulge.

I asked for it in Igbo, no way. Finally I stretched my hand.

He understood that one and gave me a €50 bill.

Samson Akpaka

72

“Sieben, ich mochte sieben,” he said while sticking out

seven fingers. I counted the fingers and there were seven

of them. There and then, I learnt that seven was sieben in

German. The problem was that Johnson didn’t cover the

area of selling 7 sachets for €50. It was his goods and I didn’t

have money to replace the balance. I refused and counted

out six fingers. He asked for his money back; money that

had touched my palms, no way.

I motioned him to follow me down to my shop (the

ground where I buried the goods).

As I dug to get my goods, it was no longer there.

Someone had taken it, someone who knew where I hid it.

One of my people had taken my goods.

I stood like a tree deciding whether to give the man

his money back or run away with it. Johnson had seen me,

digging the ground while looking for the goods. He came

down and asked what happened, I told him. He had taken

it. He brought out the goods and handed them over to me.

After selling to the German man, I followed Johnson up

for more lessons. I had hidden the goods in a less than six

inch hole but when I was searching for it, I had dug over

15 inches.

We sat down in his room as he began his lessons on

Drug.

Lesson 1: Never waste too much time with a customer.

Seal the sale as fast as possible.

Lesson 2: Don’t ever let your goods out of sight unless

a trusted person was watching over it or unless you were

absolutely sure nobody saw where you kept it.

Lesson 3:*****

There and Back on Time

73

After the lecture, I took more goods downstairs and into

the cold weather of Eastern Germany.

***************

The Game

The first day at the Ogboo went well. I succeeded in

making more sales. Johnson was nice to me. He was my

master. At a stage, I started selling for others too. I had no

money to start my own and the little I was making from

the sales went into food and calls. Time to be paid our

monthly allowances was a few days away. I had hoped to use

the money I would receive to buy 50grams and tie them in

sachets. I would go down when nobody was there even in

the night to sell them.

I had started making my own customers too, giving out

my numbers and telling them my name. They liked me a lot

because I was the only person who would attend to them

in the night, even after midnights. Sometimes customers

would call Johnson or Jordan or anyone, if they were not

around, they would call me to attend to the customers.

My outfield name was Milla. No one dared used his real

name there. In less than a week, my popularity had soared

from an amateur to an all-time-available Milla. I would go

down anytime of the night to attend to customers who had

called my number. Sometimes the customers who didn’t

have our phone numbers would whistle with his or her

mouth. We would hear them from the Heim and go down

to attend to them.

The lazy Camerounian who shared the room with me

had seen the improvements. Unfortunately for him, the

Samson Akpaka

74

older Camerounians in our Heim had no courage to deal

on drugs like their Nigerian counterparts. All they did

each day was to drink cheap beers. Fortunately for them,

Germans were the highest producers of beer, so it made

the products very cheap in the country. A can of beer was

two times cheaper than its water equivalent. Water was the

real deal. Rumour had it that the German rivers and lakes

were poisoned during the WW2. I didn’t care anyway; the

tap water was so clean. I figured that since we can swim

and cook with the water, it wasn’t that dangerous. I started

drinking it. I believed that no matter how dangerous natural

water could be, it will never be as dangerous as whisky

irrespective of what anybody thinks.

There was no way Germans with their science and

technology must not have found a solution to what

happened in 1943-1945. The business continued as usual.

I eventually started saving some small money. Sometimes

I would calculate my money and mentally change them

into naira. Euro was hovering between 180 and 185 naira.

€200 amounted to almost 40,000 Nigerian Naira. That was

serious money to a poor Nigerian.

The day of our allowances came. The day was like a

party day. All the people who had been posted to our Heim

returned to collect their money. More than half of our Heim

occupants usually left to the big cities. Some went to Berlin,

Munich, Stuttgart, Frankfurt, Hamburg and so on. Just like

the way I had left to Essen.

A night before the payment, the Heim was full. Music

was blasting, the kitchen was busy. The Camerounians were

drinking while the Pakistani and Indians were baking their

flour food. The Biafrans were busy with their business. The

There and Back on Time

75

major reason for the mass return was to let the authorities

know that you were still living in Germany. It was said that

if one missed the monthly allowance twice, the authorities

will cancel out his or her name and arrest him/her whenever

they returned.

The following morning, we all assembled in front of

the Heim and names were called. When I heard my name,

I went into the office with my Ausweiss. I had collected my

Ausweiss a day after I returned to Heim from Essen. The

German police had seized it in Essen and sent it back to

the Heim. I was warned not to venture outside the state

again or I would pay €40 each time they caught me. I

received my own payment. It was a Schein, A kind of food

stamp. We were required to use it in the local markets. It

was a plan devised by the authorities to prevent people from

leaving the Heim. The bad news was that we couldn’t use

the Schein outside the city. The good news was that the local

traders from Turkey and elsewhere would buy the Schein

from us at a cut prize. A 200 euro Schein sold at 180 Euros.

I sold my own Schein too. These payments happened at

the end of every month. January payment would be given

to us between December 28 and 30th. That was when the

Germans who lived on social security got paid too. So much

money circulated around during that period. The Germans

who used to buy €20 worth of weeds increased to €50 and

so on. I had no goods of my own, so I helped Johnson sell

his. When we got back in the evening, Johnson said he was

going to Berlin to buy goods the next day. He offered to take

me along. He asked me how much money I had saved, I told

him I had €300. He took it from me and added it to the one

Samson Akpaka

76

we were going to travel with the next day. I went back to my

room and enjoyed some beer.

Agnes, my first love in camp had also returned for her

own allowance. After the payment, we went to the mall

together and bought food items. She wanted to sleep over

before going back to Berlin. I gave her some money to buy

recharge cards. She was pleased but the atmosphere between

us was still awkward. I had no desire to tell her about love.

I wanted things to be as casual as it were at that time. She

called me when she finished cooking. It was some kind of

sauce with white rice.

She was caring. She asked how life was going on with

me. According to her, she had somehow run into John the

bighead, my number one enemy back then in asylum camp.

They had exchanged numbers and they were dating each

other. I was a little jealous, not because Agnes was dating

someone but because it was the Bighead of all people. I didn’t

give it much thought though. I was a man on a mission,

Mission to make money and move around the world freely

like a bird. The last thing I wanted was a woman to hold me

down; Not Agnes, Not Awiti, Not Nnenna and definitely

not Melinda. I had only one person in mind. Efuah, she was

with my child.