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Aufgabe I

1

Describe the situation presented in the excerpt.

(30 %)

2

Examine how Ayad behaves in the conversation with Officer Matthew.

(30 %)

3

You are taking part in an international youth project on “Finding Your Place.” You have been asked to write an article for the project website in which you comment on the following statement by author Charles Yu: “You came here, your parents and their parents and their parents, and you always seem to have just arrived and yet never seem to have actually arrived.”

Write the article, also referring to the text at hand and materials studied in class, such as the short stories “Loose Change” and “She Shall Not Be Moved.”

(40 %)

Excerpt from Ayad Akhtar, Homeland Elegies (2020)

On a highway in Pennsylvania, Ayad, the main character, has been stopped and alerted to problems with his car by a police officer.

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He was bone-white, his features boyish, though there was something ancient about his
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vaulted cheekbones and the Tartar1 slant to his eyes. Polish or Serbian, I thought, though
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the last name on his tag betrayed no obvious ethnic origin: MATTHEW. As we stepped
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away from the car, he pointed ahead at an exit. We weren’t far from Clarks Summit,
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he said, where there was a garage. He suspected that was where AAA2 would take me,
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though he had to admit he’d only ever heard bad things about the service there. “I know
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a garage in Scranton where I always go. It’s a little farther, but they’ll come get you
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with their own truck. I know the owner. They do great work. I’d be happy to call him
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for you.”
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It was a bright, mild day in late October. The surrounding hills were ablaze with
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autumn color. As Trooper3 Matthew and I waited for the tow truck, his cruiser between
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us and the traffic’s noisy ebb and flow, he turned to me and asked – entirely benignly,
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I thought – where my name was from. I knew from experience that an honest answer
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to this not infrequent question could raise suspicions where there might otherwise have
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been none, my well-intentioned interlocutors suddenly beclouded by some reflexive
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evocation of terror. In the trying months after 9 /11 – when the simple act of mounting
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the city bus and paying my fare had become a provocation, met with fearful, watching
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glares – I’d settled on a prophylactic strategy: “India,” I would say. It was a lie. The
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name wasn’t Indian. But I knew the question usually masked a curiosity about my
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origins […]. This answer had the obvious advantage of connoting not the referents of
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terror, murder, and rage that most associated with Pakistan but rather the bright colors
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and spicy tastes of delightful dishes like tikka masala, gyrating flash mobs in Bolly-
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wood movies, and yoga pants. To complicate all this further, my name is actually
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Egyptian, and depending on the political moment – in the wake of attacks like those
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on tourists at Luxor and Sharm el Sheikh4, or two years later, during the misleading
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months of the so-called Arab Spring5 – mentioning Egypt can become a prompt to more
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questions, each riddled with a particular pitfall that often leads to the very sort of mis-
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trust I am ever keen to avoid in the first place. If all this sounds somewhat paranoid, I
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am happy for you. Clearly you have not been beset by daily worries of being perceived
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– and therefore treated – as a foe of the republic rather than a member of it.
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Standing alongside Officer Matthew, surrounded by the painted hills, grateful for
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his charitable interest in my vehicle’s proper repair, disarmed by gratitude, I opted for
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the complicated truth. “The name is Egyptian,” I said.
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“Really?”
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“My parents aren’t from Egypt, but when my father first came to this country, he
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had an Egyptian friend who had my name. He’d never heard it before and really liked
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it. So when I was born, he used it for me. Funny thing is, he doesn’t say it right. Or at
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least not how he heard it said by his friend …”
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“How are you supposed to say it?”
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I joked my way through the various pronunciations of my name – the original Ara-
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bic, which sounded nothing like how my parents said it and which was different still
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from the way my kindergarten teacher had coined the American pronunciation, which
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had stuck ever since.
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“So why couldn’t your parents say it right?”
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“They don’t speak Arabic.”
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“They’re not Arabs?”
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“Well, no, they’re from Pakistan, so – actually, they were born in India. But that’s
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a long story.”
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“And you all moved here from Pakistan when you were in kindergarten?”
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“I was born here.”
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He paused for a moment, picking lint6 off the stiff felt dome of his wide-brimmed
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trooper hat. From somewhere upwind of us, the sweet smell of burning apple wood
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was pouring into the air. “So where were you born?” he asked, suddenly tentative.
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It was clear I’d made a mistake.
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“Wisconsin,” I said. It was another lie. Though I spent almost the entirety of my
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childhood and adolescence in Wisconsin, I was born on Staten Island. “Wisconsin,”
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though, felt like a stronger move in this negotiation around the impression forming
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inside him.
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“Never been,” he said. “I just read this book, The Looming Tower. You heard of
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it?”
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“It won the Pulitzer7 last year, didn’t it?”
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“It’s pretty incredible.”
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“I know the writer. Lawrence Wright. Great guy.”
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[…] I was misrepresenting both my affection for – and proximity to – this famous
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writer in an obvious attempt to signal status and amiability, to get Trooper Matthew
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off whatever suspicions I worried he was now harboring.

1 Tartar – member of an ethnic group from Central Asia

2 AAA – abbreviation for American Automobile Association, an organization providing roadside assistance

3 Trooper – officer of the state police

4 Luxor and Sharm el Sheikh – holiday destinations in Egypt

5 Arab Spring – series of anti-government protests against corruption and lack of democracy

6 lint – German: Fussel

7 Pulitzer – reference to the Pulitzer Prize, a prestigious literary award

793 words

From: Ayad Akhtar. Homeland Elegies. 2020. London: Tinder Press, 2021. 90-92.

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