Having worked in East Europe for several years and as an Eritrean, I came across a quite unique and somehow familiar experience of life. It reminded me of my childhood in the early 80s, when my parents migrated to Germany during the liberation struggle in Eritrea.

Eritrean families used to be rather huge in size at that time. The German authorities settled us far out from every civilisation in a small village near the boarder to France. Hence, the villagers were quiet curios’ and astonished about the newcomers, which I did not understand at that time.

We were the only black family within a radius of 31 miles from the place we were living. No wonder that we were an attraction in many ways for the local people.

Some of the locals felt sorry, and tried to make life easier for us by inviting us to their home or helping us with formalities. I just remember one funny occasion, when our whole family was invited to a nights out at our neighbours place. When we arrived at the place there were many friends and relatives of our neighbours.

To my surprise they had placed three or four African drums at the middle of the living room and expected us to play them. In astonishment we looked at each other not knowing how to avoid disappointing our neighbours. So we started drumming the typical Eritrean “gualia” rhythm, which is no major science to do.

Honestly, no one of us new how to get African vibes and beats out of these drums. To our relieve people got bored quiet soon and the hosts changed the venue to the hobby room in order to show dia slights of their last holiday.

In the 70s and the 80s Western Europe was just starting to get used to immigrants from Portugal or Italy, so how could they have known how to handle Africans. This was something new for both the new settlers and the local population. Today, these things have changed, but not everywhere in Europe.

Years later after my University degrees and some work experience in Germany, UK and Qatar, I got a job with a company in East Europe. The new employer asked me to start the job as soon as possible, due to great expansion plans and a lack of specialised workforce in the country. Most of the qualified local East European workers left for higher wages to countries such as Ireland, England, Germany and France. 

On my arrival, the company placed me to my surprise in a Hotel, so that I do not waste my time with looking for flats. Instead, they wanted me to concentrate on starting to get the job done. The hotel was in the centre of the capital of the country and seemed to be a popular spot, due to its location and architecture.

My neighbours next door were mostly drunk Brits looking for cheap alcohol and a weekend of fun. Other nationalities included Scandinavians and Italians, which were taxed to death back home for alcohol. So I felt like a tourist with the exception that my neighbours were leaving and coming, while I stayed.

The nation was booming at that time  due to foreign investment in from of easy credits from western banks. Money was flooding into the country, which was refused capitalism and consumption by the Soviets for years. Hence, people were spending and living above their limits and without any restriction.

At a certain point the contry had the highest economical growth in Europe and many analysts were warning that the economy might overheat, but people did not want to stop spending more then they earned.  After having spent two month with the tourists in the hotel, I finally found a flat and could move out, hoping to quit my guest status in order to become a resident.

Meanwhile, I was working with my boss, who was an expat too, on training and guiding the people in order to bring

the business forward. Definitely, people were shocked to see a black man claiming to be a German with Eritrean roots in the company. Despite, no one would know what and where Eritrea is anyway.

I have to say there was no serious discrimination or something like that,

but initial politics as people were in disbelieve to see me working there. I tried to make myself understand, that I have to try to see through the eyes of the people in order to be able to cope with their reactions. All I could do was to throw myself into work for the first year and by doing so trying to make a difference. This was accepted and after a while people would not see the colour in me anymore, but just me.

However, outside my work in the streets, in the shopping centre, the gym or in a restaurant, it still would be different. People would walk up to me and ask, why I decided to make holiday in their country or they would turn up in a bar and ask me for high five and say “Yo man, where are you from?” My standard answer to this question was always; “from here!” But people would just wave their head in disbelieve and turn away.

Another example – cab drivers – I always ended up paying the tourist fare instead of the local fare, by the way the same thing happens when I visit Eritrea. No wonder it became difficult for me to feel home, when being always reminded of being not from here. After two and a half years, I have decided to move on and leave East Europe that is why I felt writing about this experience.

My hope for the future is, that I will always be charged the same as local community for a cab ride, no matter where I take it  – in Moscow or Asmara.