Bigotry at the Playground

  I

(picture not my own)

I posted this the other day in German.  It is something that my dear friend experienced.

  It is too important not to share in English.

 

LOTTEBLOGGT@WORDPESS.COM

 

Chanel

Gervinuspark, Essen-Frohnhausen:

For some time a group of Roma and Sinti have discovered for themselves, the benches and meadow of this park. As soon as the weather is good, they flock in droves of family associations and settle there. They stand and sit around gesticulating loudly, listen to music, eat and drink and leave a huge pile of garbage every day. Once again the City ordinance hotline was called!  They are no longer allowed to barbeque there, but this does not diminish their joy, nor does it detract from their meetings.

Older people who sit year in and year out on the benches in the summer, feel robbed of “their place” and disturbed by the deprived families aggressive tone, which is set also by the “gypsy kids” on the playground.  A discussion with their parents is difficult, not only because of communication difficulties, but also because a very high potential for violence prevails.

Yes, there is a problem.

On the playground now are the “educated” and “German white trash, -the uneducated, uncouth and poor which in recent years have led a kind of guerrilla war about whether smoking is allowed in the sandbox, slush ice-cream is harmful  and how to communicate with each other and with the children, in order to stand in a united front against the “pack”.

This is also a problem.

When I went again today with my daughter after a long time to the playground, I sat a little off with my study materials, I was watching the kids play in between, it happened: 
The “Gypsy children” came. And as always, they had no toys. As always, bursting with curiosity – which is understandable when you get yelled at and beaten half the day – they would also love to have a bucket and a shovel. And it must be bad for them, if you receive and are met with – no matter where you go – disgust and negative expectations. But they sat and stood only next to the other children. They just wanted to play.

All parents froze. They were waiting for something to happen. Some parents collected their children straight away from the sandbox, the rest were eyeing the action with eagle eyes to “protect” their own offspring in the case of the case.  And of course, something happened – all children quarrel – one was pelted with sand. It was something “typical  for children.  The dispute started out of a nullity, which should be treated as a typical, and the “gypsy child” only reacted.

The mother ran to the scene of the incident and shouted:  Enough is enough! Strike back Justin! We can no longer put up with this here! This is our playground! I want you to defend yourself reasonably!  If you cannot behave yourself, go to where ever you came from, you gypsy brat, you have no business being here anyway!  Another incident and I will get rough!  Lowlife shit! “

I could not stand it. 

I went to her and asked:  What is all this, have you lost your senses?

The Mother replied:  Stay out of it. Someone here must put a stop to the gypsies.

Me:   They are children! 

The Mother:  I do not give a damn. I do not want my son playing with them!  

Me:  And I do not want my daughter to experience something so anti-social here.

She:   Are you saying that I am anti-social?

Me:   Yeah!

She:   I think something is about to happen here.

Me:    Yes. I think so.

She:   You just do not know yet what’s going on here.

Me:    Yes, I do.

She:   No, you don’t.  The gypsy children beat my son the other day.

Me:    Which kids?

She:   The fucking gypsy children.

Me:    You mean these kids here?

She:   It does not matter!  Any of the fucking gypsy children.

Me:    I want YOU out of here immediately!

She:   No. We will not leave our playground. They leave!

Me:    No. You!

The mother calls over to all the other parents:  “So this is what it has come to already. This lunatic here, is on the side of the Gypsies.  Justin and I do not go.  Now finally speak up! You guys all share my opinion.”

The parents are there.  Rank and file, the doctors, the construction workers, the cashiers stand next to the social workers, the Hartz VI receiver alongside the journalists, their former “enemies”.  No one says anything.

I say:  I want you to comment on it now.

A mother says:  Yes … but it can’t continue like this here.

A murmur of agreement from all the others.

One of the “gypsy girls” comes to me and says:  My name is Chanel. We are here for the first time today.  My brother has done nothing. This boy threw sand in his eyes.  I’m afraid!

I’m scared, too.  And I feel despair, and a boundless rage.  I have the feeling that something terrible is happening.  In the middle of a playground!  In the midst of children!  A situation which we are not able to cope with is developing!  Something that the parents next to me, and those over there on the benches – who are fortunately too engaged with their food and their music, who have heard and noticed none of all this –  is coming to a head!  At least it did not happen today.

 

I say:  What just happened here, is racism. Something that can lead to something gruesome. Something we all should know about.  I am ashamed. I’m ashamed of us all. And I’ll stay here with these kids.

The mother goes to the other parents. Wild discussions.  Then I hear no more. In my head, it is roaring. As Chanel and her brother start to play – with the sand toys my daughter shares with them – I need to gather up all my strength not to cry. For two hours. When everyone else is gone, they are still playing. And I’m sitting next to them.

I do not know how to proceed…

What the flock?

I believe that everything happens for a reason.
People change, so that you can learn to let go.
Things go wrong, so that you appreciate them when they’re right.
You believe lies, so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself.
And sometimes good things fall apart, so better things can fall together.

Marilyn Monroe, 1926-1962
American actress, model, singer and major sex symbol

Bark-ing up the wrong tree

My cousin’s wife, who works for the city, is receiving a social network platform training session.  For me that is equal to “learning” how to spy on those that you call “customers” too.

Where I can understand the governments’ will and efforts to curb abuse of the social benefit system, I am certain that those who absolutely abuse the system, will continue to corrupt the bureaucracy and the innocent at heart, will have theirs broken in more than one place.

The social support in this country is almost equal to none on this planet.  Where after a few reforms, it has been made difficult(but not impossible) to exploit the structure, the abusers with their boldness, continue to thrive- the meek and really needy, loiter in limbo-because of their shame and helplessness…things do and did not change for the better,

 

Speaking about the financial aid the city or government offers in support of or as a measure to constructively help its citizens to stand on their own two feet(funded by tax-payers), I am currently witnessing first hand how such “well intended strategies” fail to pan out in reality and should be considered squander.
For example, the city pays for a further education with a certificate from the local Chamber of Commerce. This paper alone should make it easier to obtain a job, as it shows not only theoretical but also practical qualifications. A great deal of planning and heart must have gone into the logistics of such courses, obviously developed by skilled, qualified and well seasoned professionals. Accepted by the employment office and granted at will to those who show interest or are deemed “fit”. So far, so good.
Where the theoretical part of the course is more than just valuable information, the practical part for many may not be such a positive experience. As unpaid labor, one has the possibilities and opportunities to observe how book-knowledge is implemented. For seven weeks and 40 hours a week, one can collect experiences and build up applied know-how.
Trainees, in serious businesses are somewhat burdensome, because of the efforts that have to be made in order to transfer knowledge by experienced staff, to guide, educate and foster. Many companies have programs and staff for just this purpose. They would never operate on a “throw them into the sea and let them swim” motto, cause the mistakes that are made early on, could cost the business its reputation and of course, cash(especially in the service oriented industry, word of mouth travels very fast). Those companies stand apart in more than one way. Taking on a trainee means, they are investing in a prospective employee. The wages and benefits they offer are fair and the chances for advancement both career-wise and financially, depend entirely on the ambitions of the people. The whole package enables them to leave their dependance on the state social benefits behind.

But the probability of such an ideal road of redemption is slim. Especially for the single mothers and the “elderly’ women. The former faces not only the dilemma of having to leave her child/ren while she works, but also the challenges of every day life, for which she alone, is responsible. Having single mother written on your C.V. instantaneously makes her an undesirable for every employer. Given the vast possibilities of childhood illnesses that have to be surpassed, she can not find employment where she chooses and that at the same time makes her the victim of exploitation for businesses which specialize in the lowest wages and conditions. While she works purely out of financial distress, because the aid she receives barely suffices for the minimums of life, she usually remains a sitting target. At the mercy of the State and the ethics of the economy, because she will hardly ever earn enough to escape the social aid, she subsides with her child/ren along the poverty line.
The latter – Women of a certain age, who out of changed life circumstances are forced to rejoin the labor pool, are faced with similar problems. They do not have small children to look after, but many of them don’t possess any marketable skills and are also equally marked by companies which use just this fact to their own advantage. These women are looking at a retirement future in which, without the support of the government and even with it, they are living a hand-to-mouth-existence.
It isn’t enough that women in the work force receive a whopping 23% less in wages than men! It isn’t enough that they bear children, the future tax payers of the economy. Nor that they literally work much more and much harder than men! No, it is not enough! Cause in the end, they are punished for raising children and not working towards a pension fund, or for that matter working to pay into a retirement pool at subsistence level.
Such programs developed by the State, proposed and passed as laws or reforms by our politicians, are what the Germans call WELTFREMD – quixotic. Tax payers money is wasted, in idealistic ideas that do not measure up to reality. But that is just money, money is just paper…but real people suffer the consequences!
Which brings me back to my title:

Barking up the wrong tree!
Which means…. to make the wrong choice; to ask the wrong person; to follow the wrong course.

Shaft tower painting

Favorite theme in this former mining capital, it graces posters, paintings and photos.

http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/975

Water Lily delight, the hardy water-Nymph(aea)

 

 

 

The little pond inside the atrium of my school, steadily provided my colleagues and me with an ever changing scenery.  First it was just a bunch of “nosey” gold-fish in dark  mucky green water, then a pretty little yellow flower bloomed and during the past week, more and more beautifully deep emerald leaves started to pop up.  Just in time for the end of the classes, little buds formed in the last couple of days.  Today, the special fare-well treat:  Monet visited and left all the blooms to appreciate.

That water lilies are called Nymphaea, I find bizarre.  Nymphs, typically female nature deities in Greek mythology,  were regarded as divine spirits who animated nature and were usually depicted as beautiful, young maidens who love to dance and sing; their amorous freedom set them apart from the restricted and chaste females.  The exquisite beauty of water lilies, does inspire one’s thoughts to ponder long forgotten fairy tales and ancient narratives.

 

Claude Monet, French Impressionistic painter1840 – 1926

My friend posted this today….Lottebloggt@wordpess.com

Gervinuspark Essen Frohnhausen:

Seit einiger Zeit hat eine Gruppe Sinti und Roma die Sitzbänke und eine Wiese für sich entdeckt. Sobald das Wetter gut ist, strömen sie in Scharen von Familienverbänden herbei und lassen sich dort nieder. Sie stehen und sitzen laut gestikulierend herum, hören Musik, essen und trinken und hinterlassen jeden Tag einen riesigen Berg Müll. Nachdem immer wieder das Ordnungsamt gerufen wurde, dürfen sie jetzt nicht mehr Grillen, was ihrer Freude an ihren Treffen keinen Abbruch tut.

Ältere Menschen, die seit Jahr und Tag im Sommer auf den Bänken sitzen, fühlen sich “ihres Platzes” beraubt, Familien durch den aggressiven Ton gestört, den auch die “Zigeunerkinder” auf dem Spielplatz an den Tag legen. Eine Diskussion mit ihren Eltern ist schwierig, nicht nur wegen der Verständigungsschwierigkeiten, sondern auch, weil ein sehr hohes Gewaltpotential vorherrscht.

Ja, es ist ein Problem.

Auf dem Spielplatz stehen jetzt die “Gebildeten” und die “Asis”, die in den letzten Jahren eine Art Kleinkrieg darum geführt haben, ob am Sandkasten geraucht werden darf, Wassereis schädlich oder in Ordnung ist und wie man miteinander und mit den Kindern kommuniziert in vereinter Front gegen das “Pack”.

Das ist auch ein Problem.

Als ich heute nach längerer Zeit auch mal wieder mit meiner Tochter auf den Spielplatz ging und etwas abseits mit meinen Studienunterlagen dasaß, wobei ich zwischendurch den Kindern beim Spielen zusah, geschah es:
Die “Zigeunerkinder” kamen. Und wie immer hatten sie kein Spielzeug. Wie immer waren sie gespannt wie Flitzebogen, was verständlich ist, wenn man den halben Tag angebrüllt und geschlagen wird und sie wollen auch gerne einen Eimer haben und eine Schaufel. Und es muss übel sein, wenn man egal wo man hinkommt schon mit Abscheu und negativer Erwartungshaltung empfangen wird. Aber sie sie setzen und stellten sich lediglich zu den anderen Kindern. Sie wollten einfach nur spielen.

Alle Eltern erstarrten. Sie warteten geradezu, dass etwas passiert. Einige Eltern holten ihre Kinder gleich aus dem Sandkasten, der Rest beäugte mit Adleraugen das Geschehen, um den eigen Nachwuchs im Falle des Falles “beschützen” zu können. Und natürlich geschah etwas- alle Kinder streiten mal oder bewerfen sich mit Sand. Es war eines von den “normalen” Kindern, das Streit anfing, wegen einer Nichtigkeit, die sonst auch wie eine behandelt würde und das “Zigeunerkind” hat lediglich reagiert.

Die Mutter rannte an den Ort des Vorfalls und schrie “Jetzt reicht es. Schlag zurück Justin. Wir lassen uns das hier nicht mehr bieten. Das ist unser Spielplatz. Ich will, dass Du Dich vernünftig wehrst. Wenn ihr Euch nicht benehmen könnt, geht dahin wo ihr herkommt ihr Zigeunerblagen, ihr habt hier eh nichts zu suchen. Noch ein Vorfall und ich werde handgreiflich. Scheiß Pack!”

Ich konnte nicht mehr. Ich ging dazu und fragte “Was geht hier eigentlich vor- sind Sie von allen guten Geistern verlassen?” Die Mutter “Halten Sie sich da raus. Irgendwer muss den Zigeunern hier mal Einhalt gebieten!” Ich “Das sind Kinder!” Die Mutter “Ist mir scheißegal. Ich will nicht, dass mein Sohn mit ihnen spielt!” Ich “Und ich will nicht, dass meine Tochter hier etwas derart Asoziales erleben muss.” Sie “Wollen Sie mir etwas sagen ICH sei asozial? Ich “Ja.” Sie “Ich glaube hier passiert gleich was.” Ich “Ja. Das glaube ich auch.” Sie “Sie wissen einfach noch nicht was hier abgeht.” Ich “Doch.” Sie “Nein. Die Zigeunerkinder haben meinen Sohn neulich zusammengeschlagen.” Ich “Welche Kinder?” “Ja die scheiß Zigeunerkinder.” “Sie meinen diese Kinder hier?” “Ist doch egal. Irgendwelche scheiß Zigeunerkinder.” Ich “Ich will, dass sie hier sofort verschwinden.” Sie “Nein. Ich verlasse unseren Spielplatz nicht. Die gehen.” Ich “Nein. Sie.” Die Mutter schreit zu allen anderen Eltern rüber “So weit ist es jetzt schon. Diese Wahnsinnige ist auf der Seite der Zigeuner hier. Ich und Justin gehen nicht. Jetzt sagt doch endlich mal etwas. Ihr seid doch meiner Meinung.”

Die Eltern stehen da. In Reih und Glied. Der Arzt neben dem Bauarbeiter, die Kassiererin neben der Sozialpädagogin, die Hartz Vier Empfänger neben ihren einstigen “Feinden”, den Journalisten. Keiner sagt etwas. Ich sage “Ich will, dass Sie sich dazu jetzt äußern.” Eine Mutter sagt “Ja aber…das geht hier echt nicht so weiter.” Zustimmendes Gemurmel von allen.

Eines von den “Zigeunermädchen” kommt zu mir und sagt “Ich heiße Chanel. Wir sind heute zum ersten Mal hier. Mein Bruder hat nichts getan. Dieser Junge hat ihm Sand in die Augen geworfen. Ich habe Angst.”

Ich habe auch Angst. Und empfinde Verzweiflung. Und eine grenzenlose Wut. Ich habe das Gefühl, dass etwas Furchtbares passiert. Mitten auf einem Spielplatz. Mitten zwischen Kindern. Etwas, dem die Eltern neben uns und die draußen auf den Bänken, die glücklicherweise mit ihrem Essen und ihrer Musik beschäftigt sind und von all dem nichts mitbekommen, so dass es nicht zum Eklat kommt-zumindest noch nicht- nicht gewachsen sind.

Ich sage “Das, was hier gerade passiert, ist Rassismus. Etwas, das zu Grauenhaftem führen kann. Was wir alle wissen müssten. Ich schäme mich. Ich schäme mich für uns alle. Und ich bleibe mit diesen Kindern hier.”

Die Mutter geht zu den anderen Eltern. Es wird wild diskutiert. Ich höre nicht mehr zu. In meinem Kopf rauscht es. Als Chanel und ihr Bruder beginnen mit meiner Tochter zu spielen, die mit ihnen ihr Sandspielzeug teilt, muss ich meine ganze Kraft zusammennehmen, um nicht zu weinen. Zwei Stunden lang. Als alle anderen schon gegangen sind, spielen sie immer noch. Und ich sitze daneben.

Ich weiß auch nicht wie das weitergehen soll…

My week

This week was stress filled, with the Chamber of Commerce exam on Friday, studying and preparing for it was a dominant part of it. A lot of material to review.
The course members were proxy to a full day with motivational coach(I do not know what is up with the boundless number of “coaches” in this country). Where he was amusing to an extent with his divulgence of “actual” work related experiences, I had a feeling that I had seen something like this before. It reminded me of Amway Motivational Speeches-which I have heard about-but on the other hand a bit more sinister. A tendency towards Born again Christians, who rise in front of the priest, confess their”sins” and then are declared healed with the hands on of the holy man. It was the strangest thing: Using a lot of pseudo-psychology and generalities you get when you visit a fortuneteller, it left the skeptic in me sneering. At the same time, the charisma of the coach was undeniable. I find these people dangerous, but that is my personal opinion.

Anxiety reached its high point Friday morning for the test and 70 minutes later, great sense of relief and exhaustion. With the test done, there are just a few formal days left to wrap up the course.

I got the chance to finally read a bit more in my book, 1Q84 and not just late in the evening with the weight of the 800+ pages weighing heavy on my arms in bed!
Saturday, I took my boys to a street festval on the RÜ and was overwhelmed by the masses of people out. An atmosphere of a country fair, with booths and stalls, people strolling, drinking and eating. Most interesting place was the corner where Fritzpatrick’s Irish Pub provided the brave with an opportunity to show off their singing abilities, Karaoke style, from an open air stage…I “admire” people who are able to make fools of themselves, but I suppose being inebriated helps!
The weather perked up too, with day time temperatures that definitely are reminiscent of summers past, but when the sun goes down and the wind decides to come out too, it feels like winter!

To celebrate the fact that we passed the exam, Lisaki decided – and I followed – on a night on the town. A couple of Gin Tonics and a bowl of green olives in a Heavy Metal bar…the music not my cup of tea, but the sociological insights gained can be filed away as positive. An odd bunch of people with their faith in Metal making the gaps in age obsolete.

Returning home, I sat up with my son till 3 a.m. and am happy about the fact that he finally seems to be coming to terms with our changed circumstances here in Germany. Where he stubbornly refuses to “make up” with the past, he is becoming more and more open about the future. This is a great relief for me, people with tough shells have very delicate and sensitive centers and the pain they experience is not easily recognized or handled. I missed that boy so much and am pleased to see him returning.

Steel yourself: To prepare oneself for someone or something difficult or unpleasant; to get ready to face someone or something)

 

Nerves of steel

A mind like a steel trap

Put the pedal to the metal

Metallic-a

http://youtu.be/bAsA00-5KoI

Nothing else matters…..

Peaceful ===> too naive?

In light of the new scandal of the NSA and its PRISM project, here is a little poem by Martin Niemöller(1892-1984 a German pastor and activist)…
it is easily extendable and applicable to our present time…governments infringing on our rights from all sides. When is enough enough?
Als die Nazis die Kommunisten holten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Kommunist.

Als sie die Sozialdemokraten einsperrten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Sozialdemokrat.

Als sie die Gewerkschafter holten,
habe ich nicht protestiert;
ich war ja kein Gewerkschafter.

Als sie die Juden holten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Jude.

Als sie mich holten,
gab es keinen mehr, der protestierte.
…
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn’t a Jew.

When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out for me.
….

photo taken in Kyllini, Greece

No garden, no balcony summer BBQ

Yes, it seems like summer! Temperature today was up to 28 C. Blue skies and lovely puffy clouds in the sky…I spent most of my day in the further education classes. Final exam for the certification at the Chamber of Commerce today and class, of course!
We did manage to hang out in the sun during our lunch hour. Image that, I even took my jacket off!!!
Soaking up the sun like a sponge, I thought about summer time in Greece at the beach. Not in the cards, there are no beaches or the little stretches of sand probably won’t be big enough for me and the 10,000 people. And come to think of it, I really don’t fancy hanging out at some river, murky green or brown in color, it probably smells…and before I join the brave who populate the local pools-I will just stay home or hang out at a park. Needless to say, I will not be joining the sun-tanning half naked basking in the sun on any greenery.
But the weather did inspire me to a summer past time- the BBQ. Since I have got neither a balcony nor a garden, BUT I do have a grill…I fixed a Mediterranean style dinner on the kitchen grill with the open window, the blue sky above and a glass of wine. Almost perfect!
Next week it is good-bye to the course and the lingering core of the group. Two “school days” remaining and it is off into the practical application of the theory next week…
New challenges await and I hope the weather stays”