A must see. I liked the part in the video about the importance of cell phones
and social media for the refugees. A dear friend of mine who fled Syria 25
years ago, was cut off from his family until two years ago when one of his
brothers managed to get a cell phone with whatsup on it. For the first time in
over 20 years he was able to talk with his family. He now knows who is alive
and who has sadly passed, who left for Jordan, who are staying no matter how
critical the situation remains... His life has been transformed through
whatsup.
It is exciting and scary living here at the moment. It
is as the video states, "we are writing history right now". It is the
same feeling of fascination and trepidation that was present after the Berlin
Wall went down. There is much good will around, but is there sufficient long
term commitment, both individually and politically, for us to face the deep
economical and moral responsibilities placed at our doorsteps?
Since I arrived in Munich in 1982 right in the middle of
Oktoberfest, it was not hard to image why I got the impression that all Germans
loved wearing Lederhosen and Dirndl.
Initially, I regarded men in Lederhosen drinking excessive
amounts of beer with a feeling of anthropological curiosity. This quickly developed
into a strong aversion. Then an outward snobbish dismissal. Like many of the
local traditions I was exposed to, it took me a long time to come to terms with
their strangeness.
It’s
one of the odd things about life, it is so much easier to know who/what we
don’t like, rather than recognise who/what we do like. It is also so tempting,
as an outsider, to judge the locals and believe their shortcomings are
responsible for our personal unhappiness.
In the end, it is all about getting beyond the
stereotypes. Yes, many German are sticklers for punctuality, they generally
don’t practice the principle of “customer is king”, they are not the best of
dancers, some like dogs more than children, and many men like to wear Lederhosen… But,
equally, they generally do help their neighbours, they tend to know a lot about
international news, they take pride in a job well-done, and they bake fabulous cakes. But, are any of these things true? Maybe. Maybe not.
Certainly, some of the Germans I know possess
one, a few, or all of these traits. It doesn’t really matter because none of
the traits makes the person what they are… a living breathing fine human being.
Anyone who goes and lives in a foreign country
goes through various phases of transition: elation, resistance, transformation,
and then integration. Depending upon what sort of experiences you have, the
second phase can last a long time. This was certainly the case with me. The
real learning experience starts with the third phase of transformation, when
you actually start challenging and changing your beliefs. And the last phase,
integration, is where the fun begins!
My sister visited me years ago and after going
downtown shopping, came back very miffed and with this question, “Why can’t
everyone mind their own business?” Apparently, no matter what she did…walk down
the sidewalk (on the bicycle lane), cross the street (on a red light), or sat on
a seat in a bus (those meant for the elderly and handicapped), people were
always barking out instructions at her.
It is easy to see how she got this impression. People
will generally speak out if they see you doing something wrong. For example, heavens
forbid, you try to cross on a red light at a pedestrian crossing.
The other pedestrians will likely yell out
“Vorbild!” (role model). This one word translates to “You idiot! There are
slews of children here who saw that. An adult, crossing the streets on a red
light! With that one act, you have given them permission to commit anarchy. You
have potentially corrupted their poor innocent souls and now they will ignore the
years of, “Stop and look both ways” and just march blindly across every red
light they see in the future. What a horrible person you are. Completely
lacking in any sensibilities about civic duties…” This message goes on in your
head as long as it takes you to walk away from the maddening crowd of irate
pedestrians who were standing at the light you just crossed.
Therefore, you have to watch where you step in
this society of everyone minding everyone else’s business. It is usually about
safety though and trying to act the role of an upright citizen.
Admittedly, the bureaucracy here is atrocious. But, where isn’t it so? I
could tell you stories about German bureaucracy that would raise the hairs on
your back, but instead I want to say something positive in its defence. (I
can’t believe I am going to do this!) Even though it can be Kafkaesque at
times, it is also generally transparent.
You generally know who is
responsible for doing what when and where.
If you don’t know who is responsible for
handling you questions, you can call a number and the person on the reception
will give you the responsible person’s name and contact number. You are able to
talk to a person and not a machine. This is not the case in many other
countries. That is not to say the conversation you have with the civil servant
will be an enjoyable experience, but at least it is not anonymous.
There are rules to follow everywhere you look, but
not everyone does. And that is the art of living happily here. Knowing the
rules and knowing when not following them. When not following them will cause
no harm to anyone else … even those poor innocent children standing at red
lights with prepositions towards anarchy.
Throughout my life I have lived in different countries and
always found it relatively easy to make friends. My father was an engineer and
wanted to discover the world, so he took his ever growing family from Los Altos
to Caracas to Grenada to Paulo Alto to Montreal. In fact, none of my siblings
or I were actually born in Canada though we are Canadian citizens. We learnt as
children how life was a constant process of hellos and goodbyes.
I thought that once I got my first job and was living in a
nice and cosy apartment … it would be easy to take my pick from the anonymous
German masses and meet new friends.
My attempts to establish contacts proved difficult. First, I
didn’t speak German, which proved a greater hindrance than expected (see
Misconception #1). Secondly, all my attempts at being friendly created a
dichotomy between intention and the outcome.
What didn’t work
When I tried to be friendly with my neighbours, they became
very wary of me. I obviously was much too smiley and far too forward in my
social gestures. There were times when I even suspected they ran into their
houses to avoid having to talk to me. Or, at least it felt that way.
Then there were my colleagues… 28 happily married male
engineers with the social skills of a bushel of eggplants. Do you think any one
of them thought, “Ah, a new colleague from a country far away. Maybe she could
use a bit of friendly hospitality. Why don’t I ask my dear wife if we could
invite her over for a cup of tea on the weekend?” Net. Nada. In the five year I
worked there it didn’t happen once. Since male engineers are a sub-category all
of their own, I won’t waste any more effort explaining or excusing their lack
of hospitality genes.
What worked
What I learnt during my first year in Germany was, first,
winter is a lousy time to move to Germany. Everyone is hibernating behind
closed doors. Secondly, it’s rather senseless to sit around hoping someone is
going to invite you into their home.
If you want to meet people then join the local chess club,
Bach Choir, or Green Party initiative. Or, as I did, become a “Stammgast” (a
regular) at a charming café and get to know the people who work there. I might
take a while, but it is well worth being patient and persistent.
Thirty-three years down the line, my life has been enriched
by these friendships; friends I met all those years ago, alongside those I met
along the way up to this present day. They helped me to understand the
complexity and nuances of life in Germany. They are the people who have become
my adopted family or tribe. They’ve shared all the joyful moments, as they have
the disappointments and stood by me in moments of crisis. They really are the
reason I can call this place home.
