Listen Up! (Hør Her'a)

Mahmoud! Get up now!

Uncle's coming soon.

Hello, boss.

Thank you. Say hello to your dad from me.

Summer vacation.

Great for ethnic Norwegians, but word, it sucks for us broke foreigners.

They've got mountain cabins, seaside cabins, mainland cabins, skerry cabins.

They drive two sec from Oslo to park their pink asses on shitholes scary as fuck.

Norwegians in Norway sit bare-assed, reading comics

and checking the weather.

Bro, dad didn't go by train and container to Norway to shit outdoors!

- Right. - The thing is:

After a holiday in Pakistan you feel like a Marvel hero.

I'm not kidding! You survived all that!

The dogs here eat better than most humans. They need dentists and get diabetes.

But the fucking dogs in Pakistan...

Down there, the dogs eat dirt and crap and carcasses.

One of the bastard mutts jetted after me. I'd had chili curry, and got the trotters.

He was starving. Everything was food.

Luckily Pakistani aunts are the best. Like, real family. For life.

Not like in Norway, where families last five minutes.

After that I ate loads of naan to get constipated.

Take care of your tummy.

Word, man. The moment we touched down...

I blasted that loo like it was World War III.

Three weeks of crap - in one go. Poor ethnic Norwegian.

Now he's got a hate group on Facebook: "Help! They're taking over our country!"

He writes muck about foreigners. While eating kebab?!

Mild, no onion, extra corn.

Bro, most of us are stuffed with chili, kebab and soft drinks.

Are we gonna fart our way to power?

Oi! Mahmoud! Finding yourself again?

Stop philosophising and get up here!

- Move it! - I've tidied up!

Have you seen what your room looks like? Come on, move it!

Mahmoud! I see everything. Don't even think about it! Tidy up!

- Okay, fine! - And show some respect, Mahmoud!

- You have to tidy up, Ali. - Can you help me, bro?

Dad didn't come to Norway for his youngest son to get hooked on pink horses either.

What did I say about rainbow unicorns?

The log doesn't lie, Ali.

Why do you never do what I say?

Mom collects sandals. She smacks us with them when we don't listen to her.

It's tradition where she's from.

- You expect your mother to tidy up here? - I've tidied up, mom! Look!

But someone seems to have dropped a dollar-store bomb on Ali's half.

Don't be cheeky! Help your brother!

That's life for Paki kids. Think about it, Norwegian kids, when you don't get

the latest iPhone the day it's launched. Have you seen my phone?

Ali!

- What are you doing?! - Sorry!

Dammit, Ali. Get a grip, bro.

- So what's up? - Nothing.

Mahmoud has to tidy the room, or mom will smack him.

- Good luck with that. - Good luck with this... kickass thing.

See you, Ali. Bye.

- You look weird, bro. - Shut up. Go tidy the room.

- You look weird, bro. - Shut up. Go tidy the room.

Hey, relax.

Freaking Kurds. They're all called Goran.

My day-one, Arif, has only one eye.

- Arif! - His mom went mental, ninja style.

Instead of comforting him, she said,

"It's okay, Arif. I still have eight children who can see."

"In Norway, the welfare office helps the blind."

"If you go blind, get disability benefits so your dad and I can afford another kid."

But that's not the weirdest thing about Arif. Just wait. Here it comes.

I'm pretty sure nothing of this is real. Get it? We don't exist.

Nothing exists.

Okay, bro. But what's happening?

If nothing exists, then nothing's happening, like.

- And you? - I walked down the stairs with Arisha.

- Or behind her. - Behind's behind.

- But hey, applied for a summer job yet? - Think Mahmoud Marof can find work?

- Wrong name. - I've applied.

But your name isn't Preben, Aksel or Noah.

- How many names do you have? 17? - I think it's eight.

Arif Abdul Bin Hassan Ul Darrori Husne Kitaaba Khusri.

Nine. Nine names.

Oi, Mahmoud! Four full milk, three wholemeal bread and kefir. Move it!

Two large Pepsi Max and one Sprite. Your uncle only drinks Sprite. Don't forget it!

And bullet chili! Your dad shits blood if I use regular. I mix it with yoghurt.

So I don't have to wash undies all day.

Still got problems, Zubaida? Did you get Mahmoud to rub his butt with mustard oil?

I put my husband on a stone I heat in the oven. Then I feed him grass.

It's like the UN, bro. But it's not about poverty, hunger and global heating.

It's about my dad's bunghole. His ass has cost me

every ounce of self-respect I've scraped together through 13 long years.

Mahmoud, watch out!

Look at those morons!

LAST CHEAP BREAD!

Dammit.

I didn't come here to eat overpriced bread!

No, let's eat cheap bread and shit blood.

Oh my days...

People in Pakistan think everyone in Norway's loaded.

But we skimp on everything. It's super-important for dad

to serve his brother only the best. Mom has to hang in there 24/7

to avoid a scandal in the old country.

They're coming! Hurry!

Uncle will be wearing his shalwar kameez

and look like the most corrupt Pakistani politician ever.

- What did I tell you? - Hello, Zubaida.

- Hello, brother. - It's been ages.

Did you have a pleasant journey?

You have no idea. There's some bad blood and unmentionable caste stuff going on.

And I promise it'll screw up my entire summer, man.

- Mahmoud! - Greetings.

Hello, my boy.

And this? Is it really Ali? He certainly has grown!

Eat?

Samosas, deep-fried so they're super crispy outside and soft on the inside.

Delicious chicken karahi. Raita, with proper thick yoghurt.

She's even made real saffron rice!

- Zubaida, you always make food this good? - Always.

- Zubaida makes delicious food. - Wonderful!

Wow!

Wow!

- Wow! - Ali? Ali?

If you burp in Pakistan, it means the food is great.

- It's a huge compliment. - Hey, Shahbaz?

Does driving a taxi here pay well?

- We get by. It's only temporary. - Temporary?

- I see. - Mom cleans at school.

It really helps if the wife also has a job.

I was supposed to have summer vacation now, but...

Women get summer vacation as well?

I must say.

- These are from auntie. - Thank you.

- Shahbaz! - Sandal.

A lota. Aluminium.

Whites hoard toilet rolls. Dad uses a lota.

It's got the perfect spout!

- Just the right size. - Mahmoud, for you.

Nice shirt, huh?

- "Armani", mom. - No, Ermani is spelled with an E.

Number one in Pakistan. Comes from America.

- Thanks, Uncle Ji. - Do I get a unicorn pencil box?

- What did he say? - He asks if you have anything for him.

Of course I do, my boy. Here you go.

- Thank you, Uncle Ji! - Here, Shahbaz. Cigarettes.

- By the way... - He quit smoking two years ago.

Keep your gifts.

- It belonged to mother. - She'll come around.

It's been ages. You never call.

- Mom and dad would have appreciated it. - You're here now.

True enough.

I brought something else too. Check it out.

- Maula Jatt! - Remember?

Sultan Rahi. Oh, jeez.

He's huge in Pakistan. He was brutal, bro. Only played in gory action movies.

He's Pakistan's Chuck Norris, Lars Monsen and Zlatan.

Hey, man. Check out Mukkho.

God almighty.

Poor Mahmoud. You should've had a daughter.

It's not too late. What do you think?

Ali, what did I tell you about that unicorn stuff? You're too old!

Let Ali watch what he likes.

Zubaida! Have you got biscuits for the tea? And more mango!

- I don't want anything from him. Get it? - Okay, fine! What do I care?

Don't take that tone with me. Understood?

Paki kids are slaves to their parents.

I came to Norway to give you a better life, so you owe me a massage.

Thank God that Mahmoud is such a dutiful son, Shahbaz.

Mahmoud? I have to work this summer. Mom has to cook.

Someone has to take care of Uncle Ji.

It'll have to be you.

Here we go. My summer, already fucked up by milk, more milk, soft drinks,

cheap bread, more fucking milk, just became 1000 % more fucked up.

My life is ruined.

I'm not Norwegian.

Not Pakistani.

What the hell am I? What am I doing by this stupid lake?

Norwegian values, Mahmoud. Norwegian values...

Mahmoud! Get up! I've had it!

- Get that idiot out of here! - Mom!

Mahmoud! Put this on. Come on, let's go!

- Nice T-shirt, Mahmoud. Real Ermani? - Shut up.

Ermani! Everything's so beautiful!

Is there never war here?

No, Uncle Ji. Hardly ever.

Uncle Ji thinks he's in heaven. He doesn't know this is the East Side, full of blacks

Uncle Ji thinks he's in heaven. He doesn't know this is the East Side, full of blacks

and high-rises Norwegians won't live in.

Everything's so clean! Do they even wash the tarmac?

Sure, every year.

Look at that!

- Take it easy. - But hey...

How can the dead rest in peace with all this going on above them?

Hi!

- Stop it! - It's okay.

Oh my gosh.

Two months in Norway is far from enough, Mahmoud!

Come on! Freedom!

Norway!

What's that in your eye?

Show me what you have behind your back. Ali, show me!

- It's nothing. - It's something. Show it to me.

Is that Arisha's?

You thieving runt! Did you take anything else?