BEING KHAREGI
The Gift of Being a Khareji by X-Rey
Khareji is the word used for a foreigner, but all who are foreigner are not khareji. The main use of khareji is for Americans and Europeans. All Far East foreigners are called Japanese and all black skins are Africans!
The word khareji is mostly used in this sentence: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA(wow!), kharejiiiiiiiii!”
You’re in Vali-asr Street in Tehran, where there’s almost always a khareji seen. Now pay attention, as a khareji guy you’re under the young girl’s attention, especially if you’re a blue-eyed, blond-haired one. You may also encounter the angry looks of the boys you’ve robbed of their girl’s attention! As a girl I really can’t say what happens to the attention when a Khareji girl is around!
The kharejies are really beloved in the majority of people, if you’re a khareji you’ll soon realise it, for example, when sitting in taxi, where the taxi driver will try to start a polite conversation with you about politics, the weather or even Darwin’s theory of Evolution. You’ll also realise it when you’re lost, you’re in the queue at the bank or even when you’re at the bakery; you can always count on our help! And do you know why?! Cause we Iranians love kharejies! We love to tell our friends that we’ve met a khareji, that we helped a khareji, and that we had a chat with a khareji. It makes us feel proud!
Ok, now let me tell you a story:
I was once in a park with a friend.
The police stopped us as we were walking:
“Sorry, can I know what is your relationship and what are you doing in the park?!”
“No you can’t!”
“He’s my classmate sir, and we’re here cause I wanted to give his book back”, I brought his book out of my bag as evidence!
“Hehehe, so why did you have to give it back in the park?!”
I tried to show him the place I was before hand (the clinic which again as evidence I showed him my scrub and my card), and the place I was going to (home, which I had no evidence for!), and the place my friend was, and, as a conclusion I told him the park was in the middle of the place we both were! He asked me for my ID card (maybe I was a real important person and I just didn’t know it myself!). He gazed at it.
“Where is Hamburg?!”
“It’s in Germany!”, the place I was born.
“Oh! So then you’re khareji?!”
His eyes had a shine and his smile reached his ears!
“Well, not really!”
In fact not at all, none of my parents are khareji and I didn’t really lived there, but it seemed that it wasn’t really important to him, he continued:
“Germany! Can you speak in German?!”
Rey, keep your smile on your face and calm down!
“Hehe, yeah, I can!”
“So say something!”, the smile! Oh my god!! The smile!
I really can’t remember what I said; I just remember that I counted the whole new conversation as a positive sign. He laughed and said something in Turkish, gave me back my card, “good luck, it means”, he said with a smile, and disappeared on the horizon as he was shaking his hand and the birds were singing and the sun was setting or…he just went!
So now you know why being called khareji as a gift, right?
This entry was not written by me [ddmmyyyy] but has been edited by me. I've added the pre-edit in the comments section - its worth the click.
Khareji is the word used for a foreigner, but all who are foreigner are not khareji. The main use of khareji is for Americans and Europeans. All Far East foreigners are called Japanese and all black skins are Africans!
The word khareji is mostly used in this sentence: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA(wow!), kharejiiiiiiiii!”
You’re in Vali-asr Street in Tehran, where there’s almost always a khareji seen. Now pay attention, as a khareji guy you’re under the young girl’s attention, especially if you’re a blue-eyed, blond-haired one. You may also encounter the angry looks of the boys you’ve robbed of their girl’s attention! As a girl I really can’t say what happens to the attention when a Khareji girl is around!
The kharejies are really beloved in the majority of people, if you’re a khareji you’ll soon realise it, for example, when sitting in taxi, where the taxi driver will try to start a polite conversation with you about politics, the weather or even Darwin’s theory of Evolution. You’ll also realise it when you’re lost, you’re in the queue at the bank or even when you’re at the bakery; you can always count on our help! And do you know why?! Cause we Iranians love kharejies! We love to tell our friends that we’ve met a khareji, that we helped a khareji, and that we had a chat with a khareji. It makes us feel proud!
Ok, now let me tell you a story:
I was once in a park with a friend.
we do not know what to do with this large volume, the government made some of them to control the relationship between boys and girls
As we have a large number of police in Iran and we do not know what to do with this large volume, the government made some of them to control the relationship between boys and girls, to make sure everything is Islamic enough!The police stopped us as we were walking:
“Sorry, can I know what is your relationship and what are you doing in the park?!”
“No you can’t!”
“He’s my classmate sir, and we’re here cause I wanted to give his book back”, I brought his book out of my bag as evidence!
“Hehehe, so why did you have to give it back in the park?!”
I tried to show him the place I was before hand (the clinic which again as evidence I showed him my scrub and my card), and the place I was going to (home, which I had no evidence for!), and the place my friend was, and, as a conclusion I told him the park was in the middle of the place we both were! He asked me for my ID card (maybe I was a real important person and I just didn’t know it myself!). He gazed at it.
“Where is Hamburg?!”
“It’s in Germany!”, the place I was born.
“Oh! So then you’re khareji?!”
His eyes had a shine and his smile reached his ears!
“Well, not really!”
In fact not at all, none of my parents are khareji and I didn’t really lived there, but it seemed that it wasn’t really important to him, he continued:
“Germany! Can you speak in German?!”
Rey, keep your smile on your face and calm down!
“Hehe, yeah, I can!”
“So say something!”, the smile! Oh my god!! The smile!
I really can’t remember what I said; I just remember that I counted the whole new conversation as a positive sign. He laughed and said something in Turkish, gave me back my card, “good luck, it means”, he said with a smile, and disappeared on the horizon as he was shaking his hand and the birds were singing and the sun was setting or…he just went!
So now you know why being called khareji as a gift, right?
This entry was not written by me [ddmmyyyy] but has been edited by me. I've added the pre-edit in the comments section - its worth the click.
Posted by ddmmyyyy at
10:25 pm
2 Comments:
Here is the original text given to me by X-Rey:
The Gift of being a “Khareji”
Kharehi is the word used for “Foreigner” ,but all who are foreigner are not Khareji.The main use of khareji is for Americans and Europeans. All Far East foreigners are called Japanese and all black skins are Africans!
The word is mostly used in this sentence: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA(wow!), Kharejiiiiiiiii!”
You’re in Vali-asr street in Tehran, where there’s almost always a Khareji seen.
Now pay attention, as a Khareji guy you’re under the young girls attention specially if you’re a blue-eyed, blond-haired one. You may also encounter the angry looks of the boys you’ve rubbed their girls attention!!
As a girl I really can’t say what happens to the attentions when a Khareji girl is around!
The Kharejies are really beloved in the majority of people, you’ll realize that (if you’re a Khareji) when sitting in a Taxi and the taxi driver tries to start a polite conversation with you about politics, the weather or even Darwin’s theory of Evolution, or when you’re lost, you’re in a row in bank, in bakery, in a congress, you can always count on our help!
And do you know why?!
Cause we Iranians love Kharejies! We love to tell our friends that we’ve met a Khareji, that we helped a khareji, and that we had a chat with a Khareji .That makes us feel proud!
Ok, now let me tell you a story:
I was in a park with a friend. As we have a large number of polices in Iran and we do not know what to do with this large amount the government made some of them to control the relationship between boys and girls, to make sure everything is enough Islamic!
The police stopped us as we were walking,
-sorry, can I know what is your relationship and what are you doing in the park??!!
No you can’t!
-He’s my classmate sir, and we’re here cause I wanted to give his book back (I brought his book out of my bag as an evidence!)
-Hehehe, so why did you have to give it back in the park?????!!!!!
I tried to show him the place I was there before (the clinic which again as an evidence I showed him my scrub((u can’t imagine how long it took for me to find that word)) and my card) and the place I was going to (home, which I had no evidence for!) and the place my friend was; and as a conclusion I told him the park was in the middle of the place we both were!!!!
He asked me for my id card (Maybe I was a real important person and I just didn’t know it myself!). He gazed at it.
- Where is Hamburg?!
- It’s in Germany! (the place I was burn)
- Oh! So then you’re Khareji?!
His eyes had a shine and his smile reached his ears!
- Well, not really!
In fact not at all, non of my parents were Khareji and I didn’t really lived there but it seemed that it wasn’t really important to him, he continued:
- Germany! Can you speak in Germany?!
Rey, keep your smile on your face and calm down!
- hehe, yeah, I can!
- So say something! (The smile! oh my god!! the smile!!!)
I really can’t remember what I said; I just remember that I counted the whole new conversation as a positive sign.
He laughed and said something in Turkish, gave me back my card, “good luck, it means” he said with the smile, and disappeared in the horizon as he was shaking his hand and the birds were singing and the sun was setting or…he just went!
So now you know why I called being a Khareji as a Gift, right?
By
ddmmyyyy, at 11:44 pm
At least you did not run into one of those pesky taghootys!
What a place to live.
By
goatman, at 1:05 am
Post a Comment
<< Home