Joscha and I became inseparable friends. Even though I didn’t speak German he tried to understand what I was trying to say. My uncle gave me private German lessons every day and as he could get very angry if I didn’t learn properly I did put my entire focus on mastering the new language.
After 6 months I had already caught up on a Turkish girl in the class, who was born in Berlin but raised in an entirely Turkish environment. The better I got, the more Joscha kidded me when I mispronounced a word. He would then imitate me and say the word again bursting into laughter. I had to laugh myself sometimes even though it was shameful but instead of discouraging it rather encouraged me to improve so he would one day shut up for good.
Thanks to the strict home learning literally enforced by my uncle and the merciless piss takes by Joscha - He also lent me many books - I managed to pass the first year and within two years I was able to speak German without the slightest accent. I will be forever grateful for that as it makes life much easier in a foreign country when you speak like a native as an immigrant. You take away people’s first weapon, their prejudice against foreigners: Lack of interest in integration.
After a while, two new girls arrived at our school and they knew Joscha but called him differently, they called him Venu. One of the two girls was called Elke but Joscha called her Pramud. I was totally into her and started pressuring Joscha, about who she was and why she addressed him differently. It Turned out that they were kids of followers of Osho, or Bhagwan as they used to call him.
They lived both in a commune with 50 other like-minded disciples. The difference between them and the rest of the class could have not been bigger. They both had this No-Fuck-Is-Ever-Given attitude and most of the time wore red or orange clothes as was usual in their sect. One day I realized that Joscha met some people from the commune to play football every Monday and I asked him if it was okay to join them. He asked and they agreed.
At home, things had started to become pretty difficult. My uncle was not happy at all about my new friends and their influence on me. He told me several horror stories he had from the news about them brainwashing people and other nasty things but there was no sign of any of that when I met them in real life. They were all very welcoming once they knew me and always smiling, leading a very free and fun life. My own life was full of rules and not free at all.
The more time went by the darker I perceived my own situation to be. I felt more and more like a prisoner and started to rebel. I started to steal small amounts of money as I felt I didn't get enough pocket money. After a while, I blatantly took more and more, to the point that I completely emptied the purses of my uncle and his wife, every time I had the chance. Until one day I finally got caught and hell broke out.