North Rhine-Westphalian Hip Hop
This is Cologne, North Rhine-Westphalia. (That's a German state, in case that name sounds strange.) But for many Turkish-Germans, the name of the city isn't strange at all. In fact, for them, it's down-home.
Here, a great metal bridge connects the French and German banks of the Rhine River. Just across the Hohenzollern Bridge, in Cologne, the Cologne Cathedral stands. Nowadays, the Cathedral is more of a city ornament. Despite preferring Lutheranism during the Reformation, most Germans in Germany these days seem to prefer irreligion.
That certainly seems like the case for a lot of the local Turkish-German riffraff, who like to creep through Cologne's backstreets. On may of the walls, their graffiti still expresses itself.
On the basketball courts, they nearly trample one another while playing basketball. In many ways, they're reminiscent of their hip-hop kin in Harlem, New York.
Throughout this part of Cologne, records play. They play hip-hop; both the local Turkish-German shit, and the foreign shit.
In a studio somewhere under the city, such a record player plays GLS United's "Rapper's Deutsch." Does the name sound strange? Not to worry. If you've ever heard a song by the Sugarhill Gang called "Rapper's Delight," rest assured that this is merely Turkish-Germany's humorous take on it.
On a stage, rappers dance. They rehearse and exercise at the same time. In the shadows, few observe them. Most are either too old or too young to gain anything from quid pro quo.
Clearly, this community is more leftist that Prussia certainly once was, back when Prussia still existed. The Turkish-Germans wouldn't say that, of course. As far as they're concerned, the leftists are the ones who divided their homeland, from the East, after WWII ended. But of course, just because they don't know what something is doesn't mean they aren't something...
Back at the basketball court, a few Turkish-Germans take a break. They laugh, and refresh themselves at the court benches.
One of their cell phones ring. On a dime, they all stop and watch it. They recognize the number; like any good smartphone, it IDs it for them. They all gawk, and laugh.
They all run beneath a grove of trees, and take the call. They put it on speaker.
"Hey yo, Lover-Boy," they greet him. "Thanks for hollering back!"
"Lover-Boy," as they call him, doesn't sound anything at all like a Turk. In fact, he sounds like a student from Gottingen. And yet, these Turkish-Germans see him as family. But then, who wouldn't? When he's closer, he smells as sweet as this city's name.
Lover-Boy seems loud and concerned. He usually sounds like he's in a life-or-death situation. He tells his homeboys that what he's doing "out here," wherever that is, gets scarier and scarier the more he does it. He also says that, "at one point, Grant almost ate me..." whatever THAT means...
Alas, the Turkish-Germans react and smile, as if they know what that means. They all think that what Lover-Boy's doing is very brave; they all agree that none of them have the humility to. And he's doing it all for a girl that they all want. But of course, they all get it if she wouldn't prefer any of them instead; not only is she an Afroasian, but she's got better politics than anyone in the Turkish-German hoods of Cologne.
Alas, Lover-Boy complains about how he doesn't feel that the girl values his safety much. He also complains about how "Grant," the man she's doing shit with, is starting to suspect what he and she are up to, and that he might not take it well when he finds out...
"Boo," they all say to him. "It ain't 'when,' bro! It's 'if!' You gotta have more confidence, if you gonna keep that Jewish amazon chief ho joined at yo hip!"
"I really don't think I can see this one through," Lover Boy complains. "I need to get home...!"
"Holler back, bro! We out!" With that, they hang up. They laugh, high-five one another all around, and return to the court to shoot more hoops...