There was "Mehemalou" "in another bowl. That is to say simply in English "Lamb Stew": Lamb is cut into large cubes and marinated in lemon juice, chopped onions, garlic, bay leaves and crushed peppercorns.. Everything is roasted well in mutton meat fat, dusted with flour and mutton gravy is poured over it. Salt, sugar and saffron are added; everything is braised till nearly done. Then add stoned and soaked prunes and dried Muscadine grapes and stew till done. The sauce is prepared with grape syrup with sliced roasted almonds and fresh pistachios, sprinkled over it.
There was "Djudje - Rob ‚h-e Anar" in the next bowl. There is no translation for this. There are chicken parts in a pomegranate sauce.
Chicken pieces which are still bleeding, are fried. The gravy is deglazed with some lemon juice, crushed garlic, grated onion, pomegranate juice and a pinch of sugar, salt and pepper respectively and boiled.
The chicken pieces are cooked till well-done in the sauce and is garnished with herbs such as basil, dill, fresh coriander, parsley and savory. Rich, grainy cooked rice accompanies this.
We should not forget the national dish of course: Djelou - Khabab". You get this dish everywhere in Persia in every little restaurant or in any regional restaurant near the highways. Mutton or lamb fillet is hammered thin, seasoned with salt, pepper and turmeric, dusted in corn flour and roasted in wood fire. The rice gets a fat blob of butter on it and it is ready.
Slowly the big round copper tray became empty and our stomachs filled up. I could not eat any more. But there was a dessert, a bowl of almost black sugar-sweet dates. Now how would the dessert turn out? There was no comparison! But I had been mistaken about this. After the waiter had cleared away the empty dishes and plates, Walter and Sarah went to their room and we were finally alone and went to her bed, where I then got my dessert.
We touched one another slowly. Both of us probably were afraid to do the wrong thing. I had no idea how a Persian Muslim woman would be in bed.
It was unusual that she had shaved and did not have any pubic hair. I had a completely wrong idea of what a Muslim woman would be the bed. I was surprised that she did everything like a European woman or an Indian woman. The only difference was her body and the shaved coochie.
I was told that Arab women or women from the Orient in general just lay down rigidly and got themselves fertilized but that is not true. They go for it just like the others, they just have to be challenged and encouraged.
It was an experience that I did not want to miss and so Walter and I were in the bar almost every day, as long as the ship was still in port. On purpose we went very late from on board so that we did not have to wait for so long for the women or drink so much. Our comrades on board wondered what kept us so long. But we kept our secret to ourselves. It was rumored by then that we both were gay and were involved with the locals. We did not try to stop them and simply let them have this mistaken belief; we could live with it. So much the better, that if half the crew arrived at the bar.
Walter and I came back again one morning from our girls and had to pass the Warts-Elly vodka shop. We noticed a huge crowd gathered there. What was going on? As we drew closer, we saw only a large pile of boards and stones, where once the vodka shop had been.
The police, the Port Authority, our captain, the shipping agent and many other important people as well as Warts-Elly were on the location. We did not really want to be seen and so we sneaked past the whole spectacle to our ship. There we were told what had happened:
The boys were from our ship had been in the vodka joint and had not wanted to leave. But it was closing time for Warts-Elly and did not hand out any more vodka or "Abjou". "Abjou" was the word for beer and menat "water from heaven". That is what a Persian had explained to me. So Warts-Elly kicked out the drunken boys quickly. In fact, it was business as usual - but this time there was one man, who had incited the others and had a really bad idea, which then did not work out so well. They wanted to teach the hostess a lesson and play a prank on her. All of them agreed: Our ship was only 30 meters away and a long steel cable was fetched from the ship's store room. One end was attached to the winch and the rest of the wire rope was dragged around the shop, the rope was pulled back to the ship and fixed the second end to the other winch. This has been activated and the wire rope had been wrapped around the winch which was now running and pulled the rope taut and more and more tightly, till the shop had loosened itself from the ground and thus had collapsed.
We saw what was remaining the next morning. To those who don't know about this: These winches could lift up to 500 tons, and had a hell of a lot of strength. Elly's shop was not an obstacle to it.
As the damage was ascertained, the sailors were made to pay a certain amount of dollars proportionately so that a new vodka joint could be built for Elly. The Agency paid Elly in advance and a monthly sum was deducted from the wages of the persons involved. They had learned their lesson.
It was the day of departure and farewell to our bar girls. Walter and I were both very sad but this is what happens if you are a seaman. Due to this reason, a sailor does not have a proper, steady girlfriend otherwise there is such a strong bond, that much is sacrificed by both persons - and however cheating and lying is involved. But each person has to sort this out for himself. I thought that the way Walter and I had done it at that time was quite good and did not hurt anyone. I was very happy that I did not have a girlfriend. So I could take what I wanted. I really enjoyed "being free" and would defend it as long as I thought it was right. I would not get caught by a woman so quickly. The dancer in Colombo whom I thought of again and again was however something completely different.
We continued on our journey and the day came when we in Amsterdam and I was able to buy a train ticket home. I got the OK from the shipping company so that I was allowed to take my vacation from Amsterdam. The fact that I had travelled at one stretch for two years had convinced them and I got a replacement.
On the way, just in New York, our drunk cook was sent home. Only the cook's made - baker came as a replacement for him. I was checked for this position and became the cook from then on.
I was pleased since now my dream was fulfilled. I was ship's cook! But all of a sudden this profession was not as attractive as it was two years ago. The Persian Gulf was probably to be blamed for this. The heat in summer had been almost unbearable there although my room was air conditioned and there were fans in the kitchen. But only hot air came out of them. But I should have more positive thoughts, since my vacation was nearing.
The Dutchman and a Jew
The ship was not even five minutes at the pier, my replacement already came on board. The handover was quickly dealt with, I took a taxi in the city, and took a room at the seaman's home. It was clean and cheap. The next day I went to the railway station to buy the ticket home. While I was there, I saw a map of the surrounding area and I noticed a place named Wormerveer - very close to Amsterdam. After all, that was the name of the town, where Eline lived. I had the spontaneous idea to visit her.
I travelled by taxi from the railway station and found the petrol station belonging to Eline's father. I was very excited and thought of all that I wanted to or should tell her. I knew what I wouldn't tell her. There were things that I kept rather to myself. Then I had a thought that of course many years had passed. At that time I was a small apprentice at a confectionery without money but today I had money and was chef in a merchant ship. What should I do if she was already married? I should have taken a gift along, but it was too late, the taxi stopped at the gas station and the driver asked the gas station attendant if this was the correct address. It was. I stepped out, paid the driver and explained what I wanted. I spoke English, which I was quite fluent in. The Dutchman, Eline's father, came closer to me noticed from my accent that I was not an Englishman. I explained to him that I was German and added still quite proudly that I was a seaman. But that didn't interest him anymore, since he made a racket that I should get lost from his yard. He said that my father and I were Na
zi pigs and I had no chance to see his daughter, let alone speak to her. He spoke very good German and left me in no doubt about what he thought of me and the Germans.
I was to leave his property right away. He emphasized his threat with clenched fists. I woke up from my numbness and went on reverse gear. I had the Bombay scene in front of my eyes. Not only did the English hated us, but also our neighbors, the Dutch as well! Was that possible? But the war was over twenty years ago. First the Germans didn't like me because I was not a German but a refugee, a Polack or a Czech, whatever, just someone from the East. Now the rest of the world also doesn't like me because I was a German. Now the prize question: Who was I actually? I hoped that I would be spared by such incidents in the future. I think the next time I would be running amok. It is quite difficult at times to be German! Anyway just in case, I put on my head between my shoulders and sneaked in the direction of the street. However, I could not resist shouting back at him from a distance that he was just as stupid and a racist as well and that he should be glad that the Nazis had not killed him.
He threatened to call the police, I quickly shouted out to him once again that he was an asshole. Now I got into high gear and hurried out of his property. I stopped only at the next pub. Thankfully, my Goblin came back and the beast within me did not jump into action, otherwise I would have beat up the Dutchman - the gas station attendant - Eline's father. That is what I wanted to do. I was very agitated and angry.
The pub was just the just the right place to cool down inwardly. The first Heineken was fantastic and with the second one, everything was alright again. After some Matjes herrings, which I had afterwards, even the Dutch were OK. I was not resentful. What could these people do if one of them was an asshole? But as a precautionary measure, I ordered in English and also spoke to my neighbor in English. However, he recognized right away that I was German and insisted speaking to me in German. This was all right with me, yet I was a bit scared. Would there be a nasty scene again if others get to know where I came from? My neighbor took away my fears and we had a very nice conversation and spoke of my travels and the poor nations in Asia. I did not say anything about what I had just experienced.
My neighbor introduced himself as Simon Goldmann and I knew that he was Jewish, what made me cautious again. He wanted to know what I planned to do. So I told him that I had bad luck and had not found my friend and that I had had to go back to Amsterdam now. This suited me very well, because as it turned out, he also had to go to Amsterdam. So he offered to take me along. Fantastic, so I saved on taxi expenses. I ordered the next round of drinks as compensation. My new friend drove a BMW Coupé and said that his wife baked the best waffles in Holland. I should try them, he said. So there were waffles till the cows came home. Then the nice Dutch Jew drove me to my seaman's home after that as well.
The next morning I sat in the train to Frankfurt am Main. I wanted to be together with my friends for a week. But it was no longer so as it used to be. Two of them were married and had no time or money for nocturnal excursions through Frankfurt's railway station area.
My old pal Reinhold lived in a different city and Micah had to work late at night. After a week, I had enough and went to my parents and the curious neighbors. On the train I realized that I had never had homesickness. How was it possible, to have no desire for home? Even after arriving home, I was already feeling a strong urge to travel again. But soon I was rescued; I receive a telegram after a month that I could go on board again. I confirmed and was in a train again, this time to Wilhelmshaven.
I knew Hamburg a bit already and was not a newcomer to the city. In the evening I traveled by the Reeperbahn and across via St. Pauli. From the gangways over Café Käse, the Herbertstrasse and to the Star-Klub. Here the chief steward, whom I had made friends with and with got along well and I were regular customers. At that moment, an English band was playing. We could even give our music requests and they were also mostly played. This cost us a round of drinks for the musicians, sometimes it was beer, sometimes Coke. If I had known what would result out of these mushroom heads, I would have got the bills for the free drinks paid by us for them to be autographed. They also could have given me one of their sweaty T-shirts. But at that time, no one knew how these guys would turn out to be one day.
The visit to the club was also something enjoyable because I got to know a woman there, who was not a whore. She was just very lonely and needed diversion. After a few cocktails, she became very confiding and wanted to have an adventure. She was then probably at the right address with me. I said goodbye to my chief steward and drove in a taxi with my new girlfriend to her home. The trip was never-ending, however the vehicle stopped finally in front of a large villa and my new girlfriend asked me to get off and come with her into the house. She had not yet told me her name. But now she introduced herself as Helena and said that she lived alone in the Villa. An incredibly large house and just a single woman was living there? Somehow I thought that it was somewhat strange. . But Helena was able to allay my fears.
After we became reasonably sober again after the long drive, Helena served the best "Blue Label". The drink brought me in full swing. I had never had such a whiskey so far. On closer look, I saw photos everywhere of a man in navy uniform holding the rank of captain. These photos made me nervous. Helena assured me that this was her brother-in-law and he as captain had gone to the sea on a merchant ship. If he was in Hamburg, he stayed here, because she had once been married to his brother. That is how she had also got this large villa, in which however she currently lived alone.
Somehow the whiskey that I had took effect so that I I did not ask any more questions and Helena and I ended up in the bedroom. The timing could not have been better; just at the moment when we both came out of the bathroom naked, I heard the sound of a car. When I looked out the window, I saw a taxi and the taxi driver was just taking out a suitcase from the luggage compartment. A man in navy officer uniform got out of the car. I called Helena that her brother-in-law had just arrived for a visit. Helena became pale and hysterically demanded that I get out. While I was still looking at her in disbelief, she had already bundled my clothes together and pressed them into my hands. I should have guessed - you've got to be kidding that it was her brother-in-law.
Her husband had just come home! She threw me out to the balcony door deftly, naked as I was! I was to dress behind the hedges. Quickly I grabbed my shoes, and lunged to the balcony door and outside just in time to see that the taxi drove away. I still heard voices in the hallway. It was bloody cold and the split under my naked soles the hurt like hell. I managed the distance to the hedge and through the hole in it in record time. Now I could calm myself down and get dressed. But I couldn't find my underwear and also a sock. These things were certainly still in the room. Now, this problem was all because of the hypocritical, married, drunk and horny Helena. Well, I could live without the underwear and I left the second sock as a souvenir in the thicket. But now I had to see to it that I returned to the city.
The villa was located in a remote place, almost on the banks of the River Elbe, without thoroughfare and almost without any neighbors. How should I get away from here? Helena had given me the idea that you have to take a risk. I smoothed out my hair, which was a little wet and went courageously to the front door. I pressed the doorbell, heard voices and had to wait a while, until the man - her husband - came to the door. I overpowered him with words, before he could ask anything, told him that I had probably gone too far while taking a walk. In addition, I told him that I had sprained my ankle and asked if he would be so kind as to call a cab for me. He invited me in in a friendly manner and offered to see my ankle, since he was knowledgeable with minor injuries. So he took me into the living room and pulled my shoe out. He was surprised that I had no socks on. And silently I thought to myself that it was good that he did not know why I was not wearing any underwear. My cry of pain as he touched by ankle must have sounded so real that he was convinced that I needed a taxi. Meanwhile
Helena also had come to us. She had already noticed a while ago, who was being medically treated. As her husband called for a taxi from the hallway, she pushed my underwear and the sock into my jacket's pocket. I could not help pulling out my tongue and showing my middle finger at her. We both smiled, and somehow I was glad that nothing happened, and I was able to disappear from there early enough. I only hoped that her husband would get wise at some point about his wife cheating on him. Somehow I liked him. I think it was something like a fateful coincidence that he arrived home at another time as planned. I would have loved to tell him why I was there.
But I could not do that anymore since the taxi arrived. In thanked him very politely and I said goodbye. I got the exact address of where I was being picked up from the taxi driver. You might never know?! Perhaps I would visit Helena once? But I never saw Helena again, not even in the Star-Klub. As time went by, my replacement came and I bought a train ticket once again to travel from Hamburg via Frankfurt back home to my parents.
A parish priest, who sees evil in me
Now I was in the train and wasn't a seaman any more, but just a holidayer. An older couple sat in the compartment and a Catholic priest sat opposite to me - by looking at his collar, I knew this. I asked for a free seat and sat down. The priest (or was it a pastor?) spoke to me and asked if the blue suitcase was mine. I said yes.
I was very proud of my cardboard suitcase. It had accompanied me ever since my apprenticeship. In the meantime you could hardly see the blue color; now it was very colorful. Whenever possible I had stuck stickers from hotels in every harbor city and they were stuck on both sides of the suitcase. So you could see "Pickerl"(stickers) - that is what Austrians would say - of New York, Bombay, Tangier, Casablanca, Hong Kong, Colombo, Rangoon, Calcutta and other places. The man of God wanted to be sure if the owner of the suitcase was in front of him. And now he told me that I was a sinner. I wanted to know how he came to this conclusion. It was the suitcase he said - it was to be blamed, if other people would get envious due to the many stickers.
My Dream to Be Free Page 8