Last Thursday night I boarded the U1 line at the Goerlitzer Bahnhof station to travel back to the Hallesches Tor station. I sat down next to a woman - perhaps my age, perhaps a little younger. It was hard to tell. Head shaved on the sides, pink mohawk flopped over to one side on the top sticking out from under the black hood pulled over her head. Dozens of facial piercings, black steel-capped boots, skin-tight faded black jeans with a chain attached to the belt. Looked as if she were desperate to get off of the train for another hit of tobacco. In other words, a stereotypical Berlin punk.
Kneeling next to her, looking out of the window, was a girl, perhaps four or five years old. Shoulder-length brown hair, pulled back with a pink ribbon, tied in a bow, brown fluffy jacket with butterflies sewn onto it, blue jeans, pink laces in her white sneakers. The girl was talking incessantly with the punk - with her mother, I presumed. The punk looked back at her with her eyes full of love (but still desperate for a cigarette).
I could only wonder how the girl would view her mother in future years. And be jealous of what I was observing.
Showing posts with label Berlin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Berlin. Show all posts
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Monday, 23 November 2009
On Germanity.
I was sitting in my favourite Turkish restaurant at the eastern end of Kreuzberg, near the Goerlitzer Bahnhof station of the U1 line. Shaking off my hangover slowly, eating a falafel in Turkish bread with a serve of humus on the side. Nothing like fresh, homemade humus to help settle a stomach (if not a head).
At some stage, a man in the late fifties entered the restaurant to ask for directions to somewhere - I couldn't hear to where. Either way, it was apparently pretty straightforward - follow the street straight ahead until arriving at the unknown destination. The chap walked outside, only to return to ask again which street he should follow, as there were two (the place is close to - but not on - an intersection). The proprietor, patience already worn thin from the first discussion - explained in an exasperated tone that it is simple - just follow the road straight ahead. Just straight head, keep going straight ahead, signalling with his hand to make the directions even clearer than they already were.
Having convinced the visitor of the direction he ought to head (out of the restaurant, above all else), the proprietor turned to me to express his frustrations. Look he said, I'm a Turk - but with German citizenship. Why is it that these Eastern Europeans - Bulgarians, Romanians - that guy was Romanian - come to Germany looking for work, but they don't even bother to learn the language? He continued to explain that whilst his German may not be perfect (other than for a very slight accent, it was), he had made the effort to learn the language and to integrate. Why couldn't these EU passport-wielding interlopers also do the same? After all, as he continued to explain to me, he had learnt German at school and had made sure that he could at least speak it half-decently before he migrated to Germany.
It was true, the owner of the restaurant had clearly made an effort to learn German. He was running a successful business in the German capital - one that is open essentially all the time (the shops may not open in Berlin on a Sunday, but regardless of the day of the week or the time of day, it is always possible to buy a kebab). Sure, it was in Kreuzberg, home to the largest popoulation of Turks outside of Turkey, and far larger in number than the majority of Turkish cities inside of Turkey. His restaurant was one of perhaps hundreds in a district of Berlin that sells Turkish food - the majority with little to choose between any of them. And I was being whinged to that foreigners come to Germany and make no effort to integrate, to even learn the language, to be part of society. If I had closed my eyes, I could have easily imagined that I was listening to a German (by birth, not citizenship) with pronounced xenophobic tendencies.
Is that, much in the same way that ex-smokers become the most militant anti-smoking advocates, that German citizens, born into the nationality that marked the beginning of the guest worker in West German society, become the most strident, most rigid, when it comes to defending their adoptive country against these immigrants who apparently do not assimilate?
At some stage, a man in the late fifties entered the restaurant to ask for directions to somewhere - I couldn't hear to where. Either way, it was apparently pretty straightforward - follow the street straight ahead until arriving at the unknown destination. The chap walked outside, only to return to ask again which street he should follow, as there were two (the place is close to - but not on - an intersection). The proprietor, patience already worn thin from the first discussion - explained in an exasperated tone that it is simple - just follow the road straight ahead. Just straight head, keep going straight ahead, signalling with his hand to make the directions even clearer than they already were.
Having convinced the visitor of the direction he ought to head (out of the restaurant, above all else), the proprietor turned to me to express his frustrations. Look he said, I'm a Turk - but with German citizenship. Why is it that these Eastern Europeans - Bulgarians, Romanians - that guy was Romanian - come to Germany looking for work, but they don't even bother to learn the language? He continued to explain that whilst his German may not be perfect (other than for a very slight accent, it was), he had made the effort to learn the language and to integrate. Why couldn't these EU passport-wielding interlopers also do the same? After all, as he continued to explain to me, he had learnt German at school and had made sure that he could at least speak it half-decently before he migrated to Germany.
It was true, the owner of the restaurant had clearly made an effort to learn German. He was running a successful business in the German capital - one that is open essentially all the time (the shops may not open in Berlin on a Sunday, but regardless of the day of the week or the time of day, it is always possible to buy a kebab). Sure, it was in Kreuzberg, home to the largest popoulation of Turks outside of Turkey, and far larger in number than the majority of Turkish cities inside of Turkey. His restaurant was one of perhaps hundreds in a district of Berlin that sells Turkish food - the majority with little to choose between any of them. And I was being whinged to that foreigners come to Germany and make no effort to integrate, to even learn the language, to be part of society. If I had closed my eyes, I could have easily imagined that I was listening to a German (by birth, not citizenship) with pronounced xenophobic tendencies.
Is that, much in the same way that ex-smokers become the most militant anti-smoking advocates, that German citizens, born into the nationality that marked the beginning of the guest worker in West German society, become the most strident, most rigid, when it comes to defending their adoptive country against these immigrants who apparently do not assimilate?
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