I have had a most interesting evening yesterday. Another great story to my collection. My collection of memories. I have to say, I am a master at finding people with stories behind their eyes. I can look into the eyes of people and know immediately what kind of stories they have. Its mostly fantasy of course, truth my friend, is always stranger than fiction. Thats why no matter what kind of stories I conjure up for the faces I see everyday, they are never as fascinating as the real deal. Anyway, enough of my babbling about my "psychic like" abilities. Here is the story.
It was on the train last week. That day that I was preparing for a wedding. I was hungry and decided to eat an apple which I had in my bag. Unfortunately for me, in the silence of the cabin, this apple seemed to be extra crunchy. Anytime I took a bite, the whole cabin seemed to vibrate with the sound of my teeth against apple. I have to say, it was most embarassing. I felt like everybody's eyes were on me and to say the truth, a few heads did turn anytime I took a bite. It was that loud. After about three bites or so (imagine how I suffered to chew as well), I decided to just hold my extra crunchy apple. The guy opposite me, through it all, had been watching me and smiling as well. It seemed like he was wondering if I would actually be brave enough to keep eating my apple. He kept smiling in encouragement but alas, I was not brave enough.
We both got out of the train at the same time and bursted out laughing. The whole scenario was just hilarous. Me, not daring to eat my apple because of the sound. He asked me if I wanted to get coffee. I said I could not, but perhaps another day? I found it fascinating that he was as easy going as I was. I am the only person I know who talks to strangers as if they were long lost friends....
We exchanged numbers. He did phone sometime during the week and we found out that we live quite close to each other, so we decided to have dinner at a nearby restaurant. Yesterday.
By this time already, I had already made my own story about him. But that is no longer important.
It is his story that is now important.
He is from Iran. He fled Iran. He lived for some years in Turkey, then Greece and now he lives here. In the refugee camp in Greece, he fell in love with a woman from Kenya. She was born in Kenya but her parents are from Somalia. It is strange how they communicated. She could speak a bit of turkish having also been in a camp there, but mostly, they used as many languages as they could, to fill in the gaps. Turkish, Persian, English and when they started understanding Greek, Greek. They were together for many years. At the camp, then outside. Finally she moved here and persuaded him to do so as well. She could not live without him. So he moved here. Then they broke up.
He does not have a religion. He detests religions. He was brought up a Muslim in Iran. He hated the propaganda, the whole media/politics thing. He said he never could understand why he could just not "live" his life. Thats all he wanted to do, live his life. When he first left Iran, he still had a bit of Islam in his head, but then he got to Turkey and he hated it even more.
When he moved to Greece and after the refugee camp, he lived in an apartment right opposite a church. He calls that time "the big catastrophy in Greece".
He says that experience even made him even more intolerant with religion. What a mess! he thought.
His biggest passion in life is wrestling. However, he can not dance. He listens to only Persian music. Mostly political songs.
He misses his family. He had a huge family. They were nine kids in all. His brothers are business men and his sisters, all four of them, are house wives. All his brother's wives are house wives too.
They all practice "haram". (All that not drinking alcohol, not eating certain kinds of food, and much more, can't explain, the link is there).
Buying alcohol in Iran is like buying cocaine in the western world. Very hush hush. Although they always had parties and when the police arrived, they just bribed them with money. Corruption goes hand in hand with Islam and haram, he says.
I ask him why he fled Iran. ( I like using this word, "fled", flee away from something). And he answered me with one sentence, "I did wrong".
I inspected him closely. In his eyes, I could see he was not a killer, thief or activist. He seemed more to be a man ruled by passion and a stubborn drive to live, so I made two guesses...
It had to be a woman or family.
He says both. He did wrong to his family, a woman and a woman's family.
He says the story is too long. Three glasses of beer would not do...
I tell him I already know the story in my head.
He asks me if I would write the story I have for him.
I say yes, I would write it for him. He says if I have guessed right, then he would buy me a present.
In my head, I wonder, what more could it be but a case of a man that has run away from marraige? Perhaps "deflowered" a lady, promised to marry her and then decided he could not live that life? Or, perhaps, he married her, fled to Europe, promised he would bring her here but never did?
Anyway, I have until next saturday, to come up with my story. All suggestions are welcome. I want that present.
P.S: We went to a bar afterwards and spent about two hours watching two old drunk women make a fool of themselves on the dancefloor.
I have made a new friend.