Moss Side Stories

1.

York, Summer 2006

The kids stood on the roadside; Italians to depart, French to say goodbye. After 10 minutes of this, they progressed to the hugging and last minute exchange of emails. A mere ten minutes later they were told for the final time that this final time was really the final final time and if they didn't get on the coach they would have to walk back to Rome.

They wailed, they gnashed teeth, they got on the bus. As a final symbolic act, the most uncool Italian kid, the geeky twelve year-old with the bottlebottom specs, the one voted 'Most Likely to Be Bullied Forever', the only kid in the entire school uncool enough to actually want to learn English, wept bitter tears into the arms of the genetically cool 17-year old French heartbreakers, and their hugs were not sarcastic or forced, they were, to my astonishment, genuine and full of affection.

I stared ahead with my eyelids half closed. "Time for class," I said.


2.

North Manchester, January 2007

"Andrew, it's Emma's leaving party this Friday. We'll go have some drinks, maybe some food. Are you coming?"
I stared ahead with my eyelids half open. "I'll go," I said.


3.

York

The worst lesson I ever taught. The remainder of the group were French, all with tears in their eyes, wounds fresh and raw. The Italians had gone. Their friends had gone. Their reasons for living had gone. Nothing could console them. I stared out the window.
One French boy, a good kid in a group of good kids, his eyes red and his lips awobble, asked me if I wanted him to do any work. I showed him my journal, full of seemingly random words and dates and little pictures. A bed, a car, a matchstick Zidane. I gently explained how each picture reminded me of something that had happened. I began telling the stories behind each picture, and slowly more of the class listened to me, until they all together heard the story of the Big Hangover, the mystery of Junction 45, and why the word 'ashtray' reminds me of the World Cup final. I encouraged them to make their own diary, with cute little pictures, if they wanted. And if they wanted to cry instead, I wouldn't shout at them.

Then I stared out the window again.
"Teacher," said a boy. I turned to look at him. It was Éugénéménté, an intelligent, wilful, sensitive lad, who probably carried a note from his mother exempting him from playing rugby, but who probably played anyway and was quite good at it. "Teacher," he said, his eyes big with tears, "Don't you feel sad?"
His words overwhelmed me. He was saying, 'Andrew, you're not sad, you DICK. Why not? I know you should be sad. You've lost people you were close to, too. They were your friends who left. Is that what life does to you? Does it make you so sad you can never feel sad again?' And in that moment I felt as wretched as any time in my entire life, and tears filled the backs of my eyes. I realised if I cried then I would never stop.
"Éugénéménté," I said, "I have been to many countries and left many countries and met many people and left many people."

He looked at me and nodded, and he understood, and that was the only thing I ever taught him.


4.

Manchester City Centre, January 2007

I looked at my mobile. Nearly midnight, and I had to go to Trafford. "I have to leave now," I told one of the ladies.
"Stay a bit," she said.
"No because there are no lights in my house and I have to go to my auntie's house in Trafford."
"What's wrong with the lights in your house?"
"They exploded."
"So? You can find your bed."
I motioned my hand forward, up, and backward, miming the route from my front door to the bed. "It's far," I moaned. I turned and looked at Emma for the final time. A vicious voice in my head said, 'You're a writer; write something to say to her.' Emma looked at me. "I have to go now, Emma." And having said that, I left.


5.

Town Centre

There were no buses to Trafford, so I took the 42 toward my house in Moss Side. The bus was half-full of people who had left parties early. I looked out the window.


6.

House

I felt my way into the bedroom and found a bag of fireplace candles. I lit one to
see the way, then blew it out in case it burned my house down during the night. My face was expressionless. I can't prove it, because I was alone and my lights had exploded. But if
there had been any lights, and if there had been someone watching my face for whatever reason, they wouldn't have seen an expression.

I got into bed and stared ahead with my eyelids half closed. 'Andrew', said a voice, 'aren't you sad?'
.

Polish Joke

Opole, a small town in Poland. Late 2006.

1.

"I know a Polish joke," I told my students.
They sighed. "Go on," they said.
"It's from an old British sitcom called Yes, Minister. Very funny; superior writing. You'd like it. Well there's this one episode where there's some diplomats and one of them says to another, 'Hey, have you heard the latest Polish joke? Jaruzelski!'"
"That is not funny for us. It was a very serious time."
I tutted. It got a laugh on the BBC. "Fine. God. Tell me a joke then."
"We don't know any."
"Then that's your homework."

2.

"Jokes. Go."
"There are two pigs eating from a..." He swept his hand sideways.
"Trough," I said.
"There are two pigs eating from a trough. One of them vomits into the trough. The other one says, 'Hey! Stop making more work for us.'" His fellow students giggled.
"Right. Interesting insight into a certain way of thinking. Ah, Evalina. Your joke please."
"Me? Okay. There is a man who borrowed money from his friend. He can't pay it back. He is worried. His wife says, 'Why are you worried?' He says, 'I borrowed money and I can't pay it back.' 'I will deal with it,' says his wife. His wife goes to the phone and calls the other man. 'Hello,' she says, 'my husband doesn't have the money. Goodbye.'" The class laughs furiously.
"Yes?" I said.
"What?" she said.
"Then what happened?"
"That is the end of the joke."
.

Disco Polo Polo vs Disco Polo Ruskie

Which came first, Disco Polo or Disco Polo Ruskie?

Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are you to stop the video before you get to 3:01 (counting down). You must listen to the chorus or you will have bad luck for 10 days. And check out the SPECIAL EFFECTS at 1:17.

Chorus:

New Year
All our dreams will come true
We will remember the new year - all year!
Don't regret wasting candles

If you are planning to train to be a CIA operative or a professional chess player at any point in your life, see if you can pass this test of mental durability and concentration: You have to watch this video WITHOUT nodding your head in time to the beat.

Disco Polo

"How long have you been in Poland now?" asked Ola.
"Three months. Four. I dunno," I replied. "But I feel like I've learned a lot about Poland in that time."
"Do you know about Disco Polo?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"Then you know nothing."



Jestes szalona means "you're crazy."
'Boys' remain the highest-grossing artists in Polish history.

Life in Poland

Weirdness, part one

1) Chimney sweeps. There are chimney sweeps in Poland, and they transport themselves on bicycles. They wear a grey uniform and top hats. If you see one, you should hold a button until you see a woman wearing glasses.

2) Nuns. Are everywhere. I have seen nuns in Pizza Hut, shopping in Tesco, queuing for a bus, and eating an ice cream with two scoops.

3) Paying the bill. In a restaurant, if you say 'thank you' when you pay the bill, it means you don't want change. Polite foreigners beware!

4) Shyness. Poles are shy about speaking English. The woman who works in the baker's shop next to my school speaks English. But if there is someone else in the shop, she speaks Polish.

5) Politics.

i
One of Poland's foremost politicians is this man. At the 1:00 mark he is saying, "I have a mother, I have a brother. My daddy is dead. He is in heaven now." Later, he assures voters that if he is elected mayor of Bialystock, there will be no more drugs or crime.

ii
The President and Prime Minister are twin brothers. Their party won the election after a religious radio station known as 'Radio Maria' told its listeners (predominantly elderly women) to vote for it.

iii
Two Polish MEPs were accused of raping a prostitute. One of Poland's top politicians said, "You can't rape a prostitute." He was not fired.

iv
The Minister for Education (and deputy Prime Minister) doesn't want gays to be teachers. He wants schools to fire them. A journalist pointed out that this contravenes European employment law. The Minister suggests headteachers "Just make something up then." The Minister looks like Frankenstein.