In der Fremde
Explicatory notes/CulturePedia:
Don't worry…the chapter titles are German, but the words are English! As I don't speak enough German to write the dialog between the pair of two-legged protagonists, Hermann and Markos (both Germans), what they say to each other is written out in English even though they are speaking German. Occasionally, a German word or phrase pops up, but it's always explained. "In der Fremde" means "In the unknown" and is a recurring title in the works of Robert Schumann and Joseph von Eichendorff.
"Lieder" are a type of classical song for voice and piano with origins in Western Europe. They are representative of a style of music popular in romantic-era Germany (mid 19th century) and are sometimes better known to English speakers as "art songs" or "German Lieder". Several of them come up over the course of the following events, but of course it's impossible to show how they are sung in writing alone. I have provided links to recordings of these songs, sung by professional singers at the very end so that you can hear for yourselves what it sounds like. Many chapter titles take their names from songs in Robert Schumann's Liederkreis von Eichendorff.
The word "football" is often used to talk about soccer. Outside of the US and Japan, most people know soccer as football (or some anglicized construction of the word "football", such as "futbol" in Spain), especially in Germany where nobody uses the word "soccer".
The central plot does not start up at full pace immediately…I'm not going to plunk two seemingly-random guys down in the middle of Africa without saying who they are and how they got there! After all, that wouldn't be very fair to them. As far as where the idea came from, I've seen all kinds of requests for something or other where Kopa doesn't die and someone rescues him before it's too late. I figured that in order for that to happen given the supposed severity of the attack—from what I've read, this was an attempt at a whacking that would have made John Gotti proud —we'd need slightly more modern medicine than what you can find in rural Africa. Enter clueless vacationing MDs Hermann and Markos; luckily for all involved, they both have medical degrees. One of them has also studied music for years. Unluckily for them, they also have (between the two of them) irrational fear of pirates, terrible marksmanship, difficulty with English, a drinking problem, and, worst of all, a penchant for taking other peoples' stuff…but nobody's perfect. As far as people kibitzing with critters goes, I figure if the critters can talk between themselves in perfect English in the movies, the disbelief has already been suspended for me.
And to those who are wondering, yes, I do know how to capitalize, and thus I've made sure to do so correctly. Nouns are capitalized in German. Here are a few words that come up numerous times:
Commands:
-Komm mal her….come here
-Warten….wait
-Entspann dich/beruhige dich….relax, take it easy, chill out
-Nicht schiessen….don't shoot!
-Aufwachen….wake up!
-Hau ab….go away!
-Achtung, ziel, feuer….ready, aim, fire
Other words:
-Ja….yes
-Nein….no
-Deutschland….Germany
-Wie geht's?...How are you?
-Danke vielmals….many thanks/thanks a lot
-Herr/Mein Herr….a title of respect, sort of like the English "Mr."
-Schnell…fast, quick
-Langsam…slow
-Meine Damen und Herren….ladies and gentlemen
-Achtung, achtung!….attention, please!
-Welpe….cub
-Eins, Zwei, Drei…One, two, three
-Guten Nacht/guten Morgen/guten Abend….good night/good morning/good evening
-Schadenfreude….actually used in English; the technical term for deriving amusement from someone else's misfortune.
-Prost!...Cheers!
-Mein Gott….my God!
-Gewehr…firearm
EINS
Das Sieb
Stuttgart, Germany
Hermann Wolfgang Sterlitz, MD had always dreamed of two things since his birth: to be a world-famous baritone, or to play professional soccer for his hometown team. Neither of those dreams had come to fruition. At age 18, he broke his right leg while practicing…in one place when he rolled his ankle, and in another immediately after when, having fallen to the ground clutching his foot, a close-following player stepped on his shin. The doctors were able to surgically fix the breaks, not without considerable time and money of course, but the severity of the injuries meant that Hermann would never play soccer again. He would walk with a cane for the rest of his life, his right leg permanently retired from strenuous activity, but still could never fight the urge to join his friends on the field from time to time, standing in goal and fending off wayward shots the best he could. Of course, a one-legged goalkeeper is perhaps better than none at all, but in Hermann's case most of the shots on his goal went easily by him. His friends, in jest, nicknamed him "das Sieb", "the sieve". He considered himself lucky that they hadn't come up with something worse; if they could only see him now, a top-of-his-class medical student in his final weeks of residency (and still walking with the same cane), he more likely than not would have been given the nickname "Dr. House". Better to be a sieve, he thought to himself, than a crippled, snarky MD who would get himself instantly canned in any real-world hospital.
Like his soccer dreams, Hermann's aspirations to join the ranks of the great Austrian and German Lieder singers before him had ended soon after his leg injury. Even though he had been blessed with a fine voice, one which would surely get even better with the proper training and instruction, his parents would not let him continue studying music after high school. If he wasn't going to be a great athlete, they said, he needed a job that would pay the bills, and without much input on his own part he was sent off to medical school. Little about the job interested him at the time—he still practiced Schumann and Schubert late at night (much to the annoyance of his roommates) and took voice lessons off campus, paying for them out of his own pocket—but as he studied, he came to the realization that being a doctor was not as horrible a fate as he had first imagined. At his graduation ceremony, he thought about how good his name looked on the diploma, each letter traced in ornamented old-English text, next to which were written the Latin words "Summa cum laude". He had never realized how much space his full name took up. "It wouldn't have fit on a jersey anyway," Hermann laughed to himself. "Maybe this was for the best".
Hermann could count the number of trips he had taken after graduating on one finger. Apart from a rather pointless medical conference somewhere in Extremadura, wherein he was the only Stuttgarter, the only German for that matter, at the entire event, Hermann Wolfgang Sterlitz had never left Germany. Thus, it was much to his delight when Friedrich Ross, the Chief of Medicine at the hospital he had been working at in Stuttgart, announced to him that he was due for a vacation, and that everything had already been arranged with all expenses paid. However, when he learned that he and a friend and fellow doctor of his, Markos Schreiber, were to take a trip to Kenya, Hermann's expression momentarily changed from eagerness to concern. He had heard about Africa in his studies, and had never planned to travel there. Africa meant danger in every form—man-eating animals, extreme weather, and disease. The disease was what frightened him most…sleeping sickness, typhoid, scurvy, everything he had heard about in class, but was certain he would never see or hear of again. Still, the prospect of finally leaving Germany outweighed the risks, and after all, if someone were to get sick, who better to diagnose and treat than him?
"Danke vielmals, mein Herr," he finally said with a tinge of excitement. "Thank you very much. Has Markos been notified as well?"
"Yes, we have spoken with him. Take the rest of the afternoon off, pack your things, and be back here tomorrow evening at 5:30." He handed Hermann an envelope containing an airplane ticket, Lufthansa flight 355. "Don't forget to bring this."
Markos Wilhelm Schreiber had been in airplanes more times than he could count. He knew the secrets of getting the best food (to smuggle his own on board the aircraft in a nondescript carryon) and where to sit for the most comfortable ride (the emergency exit row). His companion, on the other hand, had never even seen an airplane this close before, and had certainly not ever been inside one. Hermann had overpacked, to say the least. Unable to ignore the possibility of getting sick with something while on his trip, he had seemingly emptied the contents of the hospital pharmacy, along with one or two of almost every medical supply known to man, into his now-bulging suitcase. Markos could not resist the urge to tease his friend about his newfound hypochondria: "Do you really think you're going to need gauze, penicillin, tongue depressors, syringes, hemostats—five pair to be exact—, and enough painkillers in pill and liquid form to induce a coma in a buffalo?"
"Perhaps, you never know; better to be prepared," replied Hermann with intentional nonchalance. "As if you've never taken the five-finger discount before. If I recall correctly, the same week you got sick with the worst case of the flu any of us have ever seen, a box of five hundred cough drops and a shower steamer went mysteriously missing from the pediatrics storage room."
Soon, the 747 was positioning itself at the end of a runway; Hermann put on the cheap headphones in his seat-back pocket and tuned into the cockpit channel.
"Copy, Berlin tower, Lufthansa 355 heavy cleared for departure IFR to Nairobi."
A huge force unlike anything Hermann had ever felt in his life pressed him back into his seat as the four engines roared to life. He didn't realize that his eyes had been closed until he heard another voice speak over the headphones, "Lufthansa 355 heavy, contact departure."
"Over to departure, Lufthansa 355 heavy".
He released his grip on the armrests and looked to his left, where his friend, with a massive grin plastered across his face, sat filming the entire ordeal.
"Count on you to bring that damn thing along", said Hermann, half-glaring at Markos who still couldn't wipe the smile off his face.