The Outsider(S) by Caroline Adhiambo Jakob

squirmed in his seat. He turned to face me.
    “You know that one snatched the other one’s husband,” he whispered knowingly.
    “You know them?” I asked, remembering that he had said he was from Qatar.
    “Yes. They are the women of the Minister of Finance,” he finished with satisfaction. I smiled to myself. I looked outside and realized that it was totally dark. We had already crossed the Mediterranean Sea and were now in Africa. There were no lights. It was literally pitch black in the black continent.

Philister Taa
    Germany, Papers
    Dear Tamaa Matano,
    Sorry that I have not been able to write to you. I have big news. I have papers! You know what that means? That I am now a citizen of this country! There is only a small complication. I am now a new person. My name is now Maria Kotoko. Can you believe it? Maria Kotoko! I am still trying to get used to the name. It is not a name I would choose for myself. You know that some of my most favorite names are names like Agripina or Clementina or I forget the name of that musician… Mariam Makeba! Anyway, I am digressing.
     
    The name belongs to a Nigerian woman who went underground. I don’t know what that means, but that is what Karata said. I am not allowed to say anything other than that. Karata said that as soon as I mention that the name belongs to a Nigerian woman, I will be history. I think that means I will go underground just like the real Maria Kotoko.
    Karata said that I always have to carry my passport. So now I carry Maria Kotoko’s passport around. Now do you think that she looks like me? Not at all! She has a big head that seems to have corners everywhere but apparently, white people think that all black people look alike! To be honest, I ‘m not sure if that is true. But that is what Karata said. He even said that if I went to his neighbor and introduced myself as him, his neighbor wouldn’t know the difference.
     
    There are a lot of benefits to being a citizen of this country. One of them is that I can drive around in the trains and the buses. Did I tell you how nice the buses and the trains are? They are so clean and believe it or not, they are for free. Yesterday, I drove the whole day in a bus and no one asked me to pay anything ha!
    Now I am going to dedicate myself to looking for a job. That is the biggest benefit of having papers. I will look for the best job possible. Karata said that once one has papers, the jobs start flowing and with it the money. Apparently there are so many jobs here that they don’t know what to do with them.
    I miss you very much, Tamaa Matano, my friend. I miss speaking Swahili with you. I miss seeing you shopping in Mrs. Patel’s shop… ha!
    That is the end of my letter today.
    Philister Taa

Ramona
    Germany, 2010, Flying Away
    “S o you want to be a cabin crew attendant?” the smartly dressed man behind the counter asks for the third time. I can clearly discern the apprehension on his face.
    “Yes,” I respond calmly resisting the urge to sigh. I am determined to make a good first impression. First impressions, so claims the self-help book I just bought after leaving Mother’s place and which I furiously read, is the gateway to success. Do it well and all paths are open; do it badly, and all doors close. And the other thing, there is no chance to make a first impression twice. So naturally, I am under pressure. But I try very hard to look calm, which believe you me is not too easy when one hasn’t smoked a joint. Well, when one has only smoked one joint. I smoked a joint today for the first time in a long, long time—eighteen years.
    “Have you flown before?” he asks while straightening himself. His voice is very kind, which kind of throws me off. I am used to being pushed around. I am used to being the one who makes an effort to be nice. This role of being the recipient of kindness makes me uncomfortable.
    “Yes of course. I was once in Mallorca and Ibiza,” I answer quickly, determined to sound