the voice that called out from the dark

Having said I have lived in Berlin for four years, I have to make an embarrassing confession. My german is terrible. Well I sometimes put it like this:

Ich habe Deutsche gelernt fur zwei Monaten, und fur das Ich denke, meine Deutsche is sehr gute!

Und Wann Ich sage das, manchmal the Deutsche Leute sagst

Jah. Stimmt!

Aber. Ich habe in Berlin Gewohnt fur vier Jahre, und fur das, meine Deutsche is sehr sehr sehr sehr Schlect.

It is sooo schlect that the Mensch can not believe how schlect it is. It is embarrasing. I know. And I can tell you this, it is only in Berlin one can get a way with that. And it is still very hard at times, and I am often ashamed of the fact. But I'm moving back to London and so now I can only say it is what is.

In the mean time, I am part of a vibrant poetry slam community here, that has been above and beyond welcoming, despite me performing in English. I am very grateful to that. I am often humbled by it. I only ever perform somewhere because I have been booked, because I have been invited. The promoter decides if their audience can handle it. With our generation I'm lucky, most can. Most speak english very well. You can always gauge it with comic texts, when at the right times, the punchlines, they laugh.

But for some, the act of someone speaking english in their scene is not a welcome. I sort of understand. I guess its like deciding you want want to see a hollywood film, and then suddenly watching an art film with subtitles. You want to be entertained, you don't want to think. Or maybe it has more to do with feeling like english language culture is so pervasive, in music in television in film, and wanting to have a break from it. All I know is none of that is my fault. I just go where I am booked, where I am paid to go. mostly the response is great. and I never take that for granted.

last Friday night, I make my way through crowd of excited hundreds, all devoted slam fans, in an amazing venue, the oldest techno club in Leipzig. I have been introduced as being from both Berlin and London. I get to the mic and say in my broken german Jah, Ich sprache diesen bizarrische dialect aus Berlin... heist English (Yeah.. So I speak this bizarre dialect from berlin... called English)

This is generally when the crowd warms to me and sometimes laughs... No one laughed. But its not a joke really, so that's ok. I begin to make an introduction to my first piece, now speaking in English, and just as I am about to start my text, someone near the back calls out, football hooligan style, from the darkness

AUSLANDER!!!

Now for the non german speakers, this word means foreigner. It's not an insult or a slur. It's just the german word for foreigner. But it is a word that when shouted, has a sharpness . The emphasis on the first syllable, which sounds like another german word: Raus!, which means Out!, Go, Leave.

For the briefest of moments, it felt a bit tense, I decided best not to rise to it and carry on like nothing had been said.

Soon enough people were laughing along with me at all the right parts. The eye contact I had from the audience suggested they were with me, enjoyed my stories. I nearly made it into the final round. By all accounts I had gone down really well. How did I think it went? I was asked by the promoter. I didn't mention the awkwardness of that brief moment. Neither did he. The evening that followed was wonderful. I got on well with the other poets. I had some nice chats with people in the audience. no one mentioned that moment.

Now writing this, I still almost feel as if it didn't happen. I wonder why anyone could be so angry at simply hearing someone speak another language. I can only imagine, it comes from feeling threatened. But as that man never came up to me to explain why he shouted it out, I will never understand, I will never know.