The First Human on Earth

We are seated in the reception room of the Ministry of Something or Other, waiting. We have a meeting with the Vice Minister of Something or Other, which I have arranged. Everybody is late except for the two of us. It is 10 a.m. on a Wednesday and we are already being served alcohol. The guy across from me is from Turkey. He looks polished in his perfectly fitted suit and crisp tie. His shoes are freshly shined, his face is clean shaven and his eyes are bright. They light up even brighter after the first few sips of rakija. He likes whispering in my ear.

He is younger than me, we have at least five years difference, maybe more, but he looks rich and accomplished. Not in a pompous sort of way, but still, he is clearly not afraid to show that he is well to do. Dressed appropriately for the meeting, he is telling me about the charities he supports, the clubs he is a member of, the help he and his partner provide to refugees … It all sounds perfectly impressive.

His partner, a Greek, and the Vice Minister of Something or Other arrive almost at the same time, about fifteen minutes late. The Vice Minister of Something or Other immediately orders a round of whiskey.

“Well, it is almost that time of day, isn’t it?” the Turk says, chuckling.

The Greek is ecstatic. “Yes, please, pour lots for me!”

I debate whether this is appropriate and decide against the alcohol … for now.

“I am recovering from a cold, your Excellency. I think I am going to have some tea.”

“A cold?” the Vice Minister of Something or Other exclaims. “You need a double then!”

“People who don’t have enough alcohol in their systems get sick easily. Very easily.” he continues while pouring himself in a very large glass. “This happened to a friend of mine. He quit drinking alcohol and immediately got sick. The doctors gave him all kinds of medicine and sure enough after just a few weeks he was dead. He was. Not uncommon. I have lots of friends who quit alcohol and died as a result.”

I laugh awkwardly.

“Well, yes”, he continues “Alcohol is the number one element in the table of elements. Mendeleev, the Volga Bulgarian, who discovered all of medicine, put alcohol as number one. Element Number ONE! You understand what I am saying? Drink, my girl. Or at least put a little cognac in that tea of yours.”

I continue laughing. But then I look at the Greek and the Turk. Both are nodding with understanding.

Did he just say “the Volga Bulgarian?”

This is the first time I meet the Vice Minister of Something or Other at such an early hour. Usually we spend time together in the evenings at various social events. He is often the Guest of Honor. He is always a little drunk, that’s why he never gives any speeches. The one time he was asked to give a speech he wobbled around the stage for a bit, but couldn’t find the microphone. When he finally did, he started lisping and spitting in it until he had to be walked off by an assistant.

The Vice Minister of Something or Other looks like a giant cube puzzle, put together clumsily. His face is a red cube with blood-shot tiny square blue eyes. His upper body is also a cube. He has no neck and even his arms and legs are somehow square. He likes to wink and give out air kisses. One can’t really smell the alcohol on him, because of the generous amount of Eau de Cologne he pours all over himself. He sits in his chair and drinks glass after glass. All day long.

When the whiskey arrives, the three of them stand up to toast:

“Nazdrave! Serefe! Glozbe!”

They start talking about business and politics, completely ignoring me — the woman in the room.

Oh good, at least I am learning some new words. Might be useful one day, I think, but at the same time I am starting to feel completely useless. I glance at my phone.

“Is this Bourbon?” the Greek asks.

“Scotch!” exclaims the Vice Minister of Something or Other. “Bulgarian Scotch. Did you know that the Scottish people originally came from the Bulgarian Rhodope Mountains? They did. It is the truth. There are books written about this. By SCIENTISTS! And HISTORIANS! Where would the Scotts learn how to make those blankets and skirts they wear? From us! We taught them. If it wasn’t for us they’d still be walking around naked, beating each other up with golf sticks. The whiskey they make also comes from Bulgaria. And the bagpipes as well. They are our blood.”

I continue laughing sheepishly. I am starting to feel embarrassed. The whole meeting was arranged by me. Only a week before I had met the Greek and the Turk. They had come to a dinner party in order to meet the Vice Minister of Something or Other, but the latter was not present, because he was drinking somewhere else that night. Probably at the Russian embassy. So, they asked if I could arrange a meeting, so that we can discuss collaborating. They told me that they were representatives of an International Club for Many Things and were interested in providing support for cultural events. They wanted to invite the Vice Minister of Something or Other at one of the events at the International Club for Many Things to give a speech. They showed me the shiny club pins on their suits. Looked promising. I was not sure about the speech, though.

And now, I am trying to see when and how the conversation will turn towards the said collaboration, but I am completely ignored. Maybe I should say something? Mention art and culture? Folk traditions? Common foods? Just as I was about to say something, the Vice Minister of Something or Other starts again.

“Where are you from?” he asks the Turk.

“Istanbul!” the young man exclaims.

“Oh, really!” the Vice Minister of Something or Other nods. “You are not a Turk at all. You are a Bulgarian! Istanbul is a Bulgarian city. There are more Bulgarians there than any other nationality. The biggest Bulgarian city. The biggest Bulgarian port city, to be exact” and on and on he goes offering some version of History in which the Bulgarians introduced the Turks to moussaka.

“Oh!” says the Turk. “How wonderful! I love moussaka. My mother makes it every week.”

“How about you?” he nods towards the Greek.

“I am from Kavala… we have moussaka as well” he offers.

“OF COURSE YOU DO!” the Vice Minister of Something or Other says, mockingly. “ You make it with fish! The best Bulgarian fish comes from Thasos, that’s part of the Thracian Bulgaria. You are not a Greek, you are a Bulgarian too, of course! Nazdrave!”

The two of them start cheering and talking about Greek islands, fish, beaches, ouzo (which, as you might have guessed, is not really Greek. It is adopted from Bulgarian mastika. As is most of the alcohol in this world, because Mendeleev, the father of all liquor was also Bulgarian from Volga, remember?)At some point the conversation (which I am constantly monitoring) turns towards perfume and the Bulgarian Italy, called BVLGARI.

As the Vice Minister of Something or Other and the Greek continue talking and cheers-ing each other, I turn to the Turk. He is more drunk now. I notice that he is holding himself upright, but obviously he is not really used to mixing his drinks. I notice another pin on his lapel, right next to the one of the International Club for Many Things.

“What does this pin signify”, I ask, to keep the small talk going and to prevent myself from laughing at the Minister of Something or Other, which I am not sure is appropriate. Somehow it doesn’t seem like a good idea that I should be laughing at everything he says as ridiculous as it is. Maybe I should pretend that all that he says is some sort of a ritual? Bulgarian small talk?

“This is the pin of my Masonic lodge” the Turk says proudly. “I am a Freemason.”

“Really?” I say. “This is super interesting, I’ve always wanted to know all about the Freemasons. Mozart was one. He wrote an entire opera, inspired by your rituals. This was a question I meant to read more about before my exams, but frankly never got around to it.”

“Well yes”, he says. “It is a wonderful organization. The only requirement is that one must believe in a higher being. And one must be a man.”

“Today too? Why?” I ask. “Why can’t women join?”

“Well”, he says, “we always invite women to our social events. You are welcome to come next Friday for example, when we have a special party and women are invited.”

“How about joining as a member?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about that!” he is smiling gently. Then he gets closer to me and starts whispering in my ear: “Social events are the fun part. That’s where you want to be. Members have to memorize a ton of things. Signs and rules and rituals. Believe me, you don’t want to worry about those.”

I am about to explode. Even though I am a woman I also happen to have an excellent memory, thank you very much, you SLAVE owner you! I am able to play Bach and Beethoven and Chopin entirely from memory, you lazy BEY! … but suddenly the Vice Minister of Something or Other beats me to it and starts yelling at the Greek:

“You Greeks! You are always scamming Europe for money! Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves! Why don’t you tell this young lady how to get some European Money and Grants.” he starts snorting a little and gesticulating towards me with his square arms.

“Oh, of course. I will!” the Greek raises his glass. “But first we want to talk to you about cigarettes.”

“Cigarettes?” the Vice Minister of Something or Other yells again. “We have the best tobacco in the world. We do. It is called BULGARTABAC. Bulgarian tobacco is the one and only tobacco in the world.”

“We mean organic tobacco, made by Indians, your Excellency.” the Greek clarifies. “We mean Native American cigarettes, which are very popular in the United States. American Spirits. Made from organic tobacco following ancient rituals. We want to import them to duty-free shops in the Balkans.”

“Indians? They are our brothers!” The Vice Minister of Something or Other is besides himself with joy.

“You tell those Indian boys to come over here and see me right away. I will tell them the one and only truth. If they can read, I will give them a book about this whole topic. The Indians and the Bulgarians are the FIRST humans on this earth. Everybody else is our cousin. One of the first Bulgarian tribes moved to the Americas long time ago and voilà: we have brothers everywhere in the world.”

He continued yelling enthusiastically.

“We have Crazy Horse in Bulgaria. We do. Just like Crazy Horse in America. We kill brown bears here with our teeth. Just like they do. But tell those brothers not to smoke. It is bad for them! I will give them nice rakija.”

He waves his finger and the glasses are immediately refreshed.

The next day I open the news and read in the National Geographic that scientists have discovered that “two fossils of an ape-like creature which had human-like teeth have been found in Bulgaria, dating to 7.2 million years ago”. It is considered to be evidence of the first human on earth. Here is a picture of him. I wonder what he was drinking in his day.