Time: Late night around 2 AM
Place: A fast food restaurant in the middle of the city center
Situation: We ( me, satish and puneet) each buy a falafel ( its “ambode”(fried item made of chick peas and flour) with iranian bread with some salad dressing and sauce) at the city center’s local falafel shop. Its windy outside and drizzling so we decide to sit down and finish the falafel before leaving home. Now there comes an old man, somewhere in his late 40s. He is dressed in a white jersey like tee and blue jeans with large silver chains around his neck. He sits next to me. The way he sat and tried opening his packed falafel, one could make out that he was quite drunk. He sees me and I smile. He starts talking to me!
Problem:
Old man: Hi, (offering his hand for a handshake) muhammed, fran tunisia.
Me: Sorry, Engleska ( english please)
Old man: I am muhammed, from tunisia, afrikana, where are you from?
Me: I am Praveen from India
Old man introduces the same way to satish and puneet and ask them their names.
Old man: yalla yalla….alla..familija…we are like bro…afrikana, indiska ( indian) . jag come from tunisia, afrikana, me living in lund, klostergarden, wer do u live?
me: i live in stlars near to klostergarden.
Old man: oh stlars..very close very close, me living klostergarden. me living with 2 children, 2 boys, 16 & 15. My wife dead….dead…u know…my wife…dead ( makes a sad face)….u know my wife dead…
me: ya, oh, i am sorry.
Old man: you living in stlars…me klostergarden. i work, work in sweden..u working? or..skool?
Me: i go to school
Old man: oh..good…yalla yalla….alla..familija…we are like bro…afrikana, indiska ( indian) yalla yalla!
Meanwhile, he manages to open his falafel and offers me to take one..i say no..but he insists..so i take one..so does puneet and satish. We keep eating thinking, what a wierd guy he is!
Old man: Me from Tunisia, tunisia very nice, i not like..i like sweden. you like?
Me: Yeah! Sweden is a nice country
Old man: ya! yalla yalla! Sweden nice…i work here…i live with 2 children, 2 boys, 16 & 15. My wife dead….dead…u know…my wife…dead ( makes a sad face)….u know my wife dead… you live alone
Me: ya!
Old man: ya! me living in klostergarden! near to stlars. tunisia, indiska bro..yalla yalla..alla familija ..laughs out loud.
Me: ahaa..ya ya..( u must see my face..so faked)
Old man: la la la..yalla yalla…na na na..Indiska ..music very good very good..i like….
Me: Ya..its good
Old man to puneet: I am muhammed, from tunisia, ur name…( this is the second time he is introducing himself)
Me to puneet: maga, ee nan maga bejan kachtavne, escape agbeku. ( man, this fellow is being a headlong! lets escape)
We wait, one young fellow comes and speaks to the old man and we escape!!!
we come out and we say.Yalla Yalla!
This was one short crazy experience that i had in my life. Yalla yalla!