Jakob Arjouni
More Beer
APRIL 1986
RHEIN MAIN FARBEN TO OPEN PLANT IN VOGELSBERG
Two hundred thousand demonstrators expected in Vogelsberg
MAY 1986
POISON GAS SCANDAL
According to today’s edition of Le Monde, the German concern Rhein Main Farben has sold basic ingredients for the manufacture of mustard gas to Iraq.
DUTCH SHIPOWNER BLOWS WHISTLE
Mr. Zoetemelk, a Dutch shipowner, has confirmed to journalists that his firm shipped several hundred barrels of chemicals produced by Rhein Main Farben to Iraq. He claims to have had no knowledge of the contents of these barrels. A spokesman for Rhein Main Farben disclaims any wrongdoing on the factory’s part: “We were told the chemicals would be used purely for civilian purposes.”
DEMONSTRATORS OCCUPY PLANT SITE
Rhein Main Farben complies with Hesse Government’s request to halt
production until further
notice Mayor of Frankfurt on Rhein Main Farben payroll as legal consultant
JUNE 1986
GREEN TERROR! CHEMICALS MANUFACTURER MURDERED!
Death of a great man
“Friedrich Bollig was not only an outstanding comrade-in-arms in the struggle for a clean future. He was a friend. All who knew him will remember his consideration, kindness, and fairness. As the head of one of the last family-owned concerns in our field, he worked indefatigably for the development of new remedies, particularly those used in the treatment of childhood diseases. Friedrich Bollig’s premature and tragic death is cause for universal grief.”
FRANKFURT MAYOR’S WIFE
Confirms she is Rhein Main Garben shareholder
Does “Red Army Faction” have “green” successor?
Rhein Main Farben urges prompt decision
Maximilian Funke, President of the Board of Directors: “If the Hesse Government does not grant us a permit for our projected plant in Vogelsberg, we must assume that the murderers of Friedrich Bollig acted in the spirit of that government. It would make me very happy if such a suspicion proved unfounded.”
NOVEMBER 1986
NO INCIDENTS AT LAYING OF FOUNDATION STONE
OF RHEIN MAIN FARBEN PLANT IN VOGELSBERG
Former Mayor of Frankfurt appointed President
Of United Nations Environmental Security Council
DAY ONE
1
The coffee was weak and the soft, moist cheese sandwich must have spent many days in the refrigerator. I tore chunks off it and washed them down with coffee. The sticky counter smelled of beer. Two meters to one side, a rumpled man dozed over his corn schnapps. From time to time he blew his nose, then wiped his mouth and forehead with the same handkerchief. He was staring at the framed verses above the sink: A FEW BEERS A NIGHT, THAT’S QUITE ALL RIGHT-A SCHNAPPS AT DAWN, YOUR HANGOVER’S GONE. I glanced at the sports pages next to his elbow
“How did Gladbach do?”
“Lost, two to zero,” he mumbled, without raising his eyes.
I rapped on the counter.
“More coffee. A little stronger.”
The proprietress pushed through the brown bead curtain, took my cup away, and brought it back with a refill. Her ample bosom was swathed in a ball gown from which her arms, neck, and head protruded like sausages. Her rear was adorned with a purple satin bow, her wrists with fake gold bracelets. Her hair had been dipped in liquid silver. Hertha was the owner of Hertha’s Corner-open twenty-four hours. The place was large, dark, and empty. The dusty bottles behind the bar were lit up by fluorescence. Raindrops rattled against the dirty windowpanes. In one comer stood the table reserved for regulars, with its wrought-iron emblem, a wild sow waving a beer stein. Hertha was rinsing glasses. A fly landed on my mutilated sandwich. I lit a cigarette and blew smoke rings around the fly.
Time passes slowly in these early morning hours. It was eight thirty. My court date was at nine. I went to the john. The latch was broken, and the flushing mechanism leaked water onto the floor. When I came out again, the radio was playing “Oh Schnucki, oh Schnucki, let’s travel to Kentucky …” Hertha swayed in rhythm with the tune. The guy at the bar used his snot rag again. Then he grabbed his glass with both hands and knocked back the schnapps in one go. He slammed the glass back onto the counter.
“Hertha! One more.”
“Now, now, Karl. You’ve had enough.”
Karl pulled a wrinkled fifty-mark bill out of his pocket. “You think I can’t pay? Is that what you think?”
“Put your money back.”
Hertha arranged the rinsed glasses on the shelf. Karl lit a cigarette. After a while he glanced at me.
“Gladbach, eh?”
I nodded. He scrutinized me from head to toe. Then he turned away, growling, “Well, this is Frankfurt.”
The radio was playing “When Heidi and her Hans, tah-rah, tah-rah …” I picked the newspaper off the rack. “FRANKFURT TRIAL BEGINS WITH EXTENSIVE SECURITY MEASURES. The trial of four members of the Ecological Front begins behind closed doors.” It was a quarter to nine. I paid and left Hertha’s Corner.
Outside, the wind was driving the rain diagonally across the street. Fall. I pulled the brim of my hat down, dug my hands into my coat pockets, and stayed close to the wall. At the intersection, the furious rain whipped my
