A Story about M

I want to tell you about M.

He’s from Turkey and he’s in my German class.

He got married two weeks before our class started, and has lived in Basel for only a few months. He speaks four languages, and loves to tell me about cheap things to do in Basel.

“Ich bin dreizig jahre alt. I’m young!” (He’s thirty years old.)

“You from California!? You rich!”

We sit next to each other and he often helps the other people in our class who are also from Turkey. He always has a smile on his face and he was the first to call our class a family. He is Muslim but loves beer and supports gay marriage. He is a cat dad and a stay-at-home husband. He loves cooking for his wife, cleaning their apartment, and thinking of ways to bring his community together.

I have to remind him of a lot of things. To call our teacher “Frau” (the Swiss are not first-name kind of teachers). To turn in homework. To give other students a chance to answer. He’s not super great at keeping his mask on either. He and I both have window seats- he sits right in front of me- and I often have to say to him: “M, bitte maske.” He is one of the two (out of ten) in our class who is not vaccinated and he says he’ll get the shot in a few months. He’s not worried.

“Malka, you scared of Corona?”

“Yes, M. Everyone should be!”

We had an assignment to share with the class about our families, and I added that I got the vaccine for my son, and for my neighbors. M was intrigued, but didn’t bring it up again.

We went on a field trip last week all around the city center. We mostly only spoke German to each other and we learned a lot about the history of Basel.

“Malka, casino!!! Heeeeey! Haha.”

M is a real funny guy. I love it.

On Monday morning, we greeted each other and made our way to our self-selected seats. Our teacher went around the room and asked each of us to share how our weekends had been. M was eager to share his weekend. He didn’t drink beer, he said. His arm hurt, he said. He slept all weekend. He felt foggy, but happy. You guessed it! He got the vaccine.

“M! You got it!?” I yelled and accidentally stood up from my seat with a burst of enthusiasm.

“Malka, I not get for me. I live only one person. I got shot because your son. You, my best friend. Very good person.”

I love the people I’m meeting here.

(And I think the feeling is mutual.)