Everything must be prepared early in the morning. Paimann is not really in a good mood yet. Energy and food prices are giving him a tough time. An acquaintance comes by and tells him about a good offer for frying oil. "I've already stocked up on that," he replies.

His mood slowly improves. The first customer arrives. He wants a Coke, pays with a five euro note and forgets his change, causing Paimann to call after him. "It's fun working here. I have customers from all social classes, one right after the other. I could write a book about it," he says. He engages every customer in conversation. And Paimann has known many of them for a long time. In the five years that he has been running the "Kichererbse", he has built up a considerable regular clientele.

First it was the Coronavirus pandemic, then the war in Ukraine and the subsequent price increases. It was from the frying pan into the fire for the catering industry. Paimann feels let down by politicians, and vents his anger while mixing softened bread, chickpeas and onions to make falafel batter. "I'm always complaining, but in the evening I say to my wife: we're lucky we have this business." His wife Yasmin works alongside him. They've been married since 2004 and have three daughters and a son. She is the quieter of the two but is not afraid to stand up to her husband. When Paimann tells her how much he likes to cook, she simply says "but not at home". "Except at Christmas", he quickly interjects. Then it's typical German food. The two are Muslims, but also observe Christian traditions.

The takeaway is completely vegetarian, although Paimann himself eats meat. But kebab meat and falafel don't belong in the same kitchen, he says. "I can't prepare a falafel sandwich and a kebab in the same toaster. Then the falafel is no longer vegetarian". Concentrating on one product has paid off for him.

It is now 12.30 p.m. and the first long queue has formed outside the shop. The couple are supported by their sole employee, Jamal, and a trainee. Jamal has been with the "Kichererbse" since it first opened. Paimann met him when he was involved in helping refugees. Their families come from the same village in Syria. He greets him with a coffee from a nearby cafe. "He's the best boss," says Jamal happily. With their help, Paimann can spend more time chatting to new and old friends and acquaintances. He particularly enjoys seeing his friends' children. They sometimes get a free falafel or chips while he talks to their father about being a parent. He doesn't get to spend much time with his own children: "I only really come home to sleep. I like to go on day trips with my family on Sundays, but these are often disguised shopping trips to the Netherlands".

None of his children want to go into the catering business. But that doesn't bother him. He proudly tells us that his eldest daughter will soon be graduating from high school and wants to become a lawyer. He doesn't want his children to have to work as hard as he does. "When I first opened, people kept telling me I would be working in a urinal. I remodelled the shop on my own and now business is going well here and we are very happy. And that despite the difficult location. The subway is considered one of the most unsafe places in Bonn. "According to a Google review, as long as we're open, it's safe to walk through here. When we're closed, it's better to take a roundabout route," explains Paimann. But he still can't imagine a different life. "I would never work in an upmarket restaurant. This is our family business. It wouldn't work without my wife and myself, because people know us." This is probably the reason why the takeaway in an inconspicuous subway has become such an iconic institution in Bonn.

Paimann is 44 years old. He has a white beard and light grey hair. He has spent his whole life in Bonn. He followed in his father’s footsteps in opening the Kichererbse. "While my friends were all in the disco, I had to season meat," he remembers. He initially took a different path, training as a façade cleaner before returning to the catering industry. "Of course, it’s my dream job," he says. "But the last few years have been difficult".

Original text: Ben Reddig

Translation: Jean Lennox