In the shadow of the Wall, in the spirit of a CitySep 04 '07 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line The bottom line knows that not all problems were solved with the fall of the Wall, but it's a start.
I'm trying to edit and publish a ton of reviews and essays that I've written while on hiatus. This one has been in my Computer for a while and it's time to get it out of my Word Program and onto the Pages of Epinions. This is a 1700 word piece, so grab a cup of Coffee (took me three just to edit) or a cold beer. I was born on September 25, 1961. There is no particular significance to this date. Okay, maybe the fact that the German Version of Leonard Bernstein's "West Side Story" premiered a few hours before my birth. But that September day was most certainly not a day that would be entered into the Books of German history. Yet barely a month before my birth I was given a "gift" that would not only change World History forever, but would also impact my thinking for the better part of my life. Imagine yourself waking up one morning , going to work and coming home to Chaos. If you got home that day that is. What started as a regular day to most Berliners, quickly turned to confusion, a sense of disbelief and chaos. In the early hours of August 13, 1961, East German Police and Russian Military started stringing barbed wire across major roads. Over the next few months the barbed wire was replaced with razor wire, the establishment of checkpoints and frequent patrols. By the time I could walk, the wire had been replaced by a concrete barrier, complete with mines, a "no-mans" zone and guards that were ordered to shoot at anything that moved in the wrong direction. Families were torn apart overnight and Friendships ended. Just like that. For some it was even made impossible to retrieve personal items from their homes. Others got lucky. They figured out quickly what was going on and got out. But was it really luck? They lived in the part of Germany that was generally considered "Free". But free it was not. While the western part of Berlin was somewhat free, it was still tightly controlled by the American, British and French Occupational Force. Wait a minute, this was almost 20 years after WWII had ended, what are they still doing there? The contracts drawn up between these Military forces and the German government specified no time period for the withdrawal of the troops. At least all of Hong Kong knew that their British rulers would be gone after 99 years. All of Germany was clueless however as to when their "Occupation" would end. The western part of the City was also completely cut off from the rest of Germany. Going into the western part of Germany meant crossing two borders. One when leaving West Berlin and another when entering West Germany. In between was a Russian occupied Country that only very technical could be called part of Germany. On each trip, whether by train or car, I had to carry a Passport to cross from Berlin in West Germany. I was a German, but I carried the stigma of being a Berliner. But one thing was different for the West Berliners. Their part of the City was prospering quite nicely. Factories were built or re-built, jobs were so plentiful that by the mid-60s, Germany had to look to Countries like Turkey to attract workers willing to perform the dirty jobs no German would be caught dead doing. While all this was going on, a very curious Phenomenon took place. It wasn't visible, you could not put your finger on it and say "that's what it is". But it was there. Berliners have been called cold-hearted, loud and snobbish. But what they really were was stubborn. No way would they be beaten by a situation that foreign governments had placed them in. Every time someone succeeded to get over the Wall, an entire City cheered. Every time new Graffiti appeared on Government buildings and signs that were technically in the Russian occupied "zone" an entire City declared it "Art". The Wall was just as much held up by re-enforcement beams as by layers of Graffiti. But these were not your usual spray painted symbols. No "Kilroy" here, unless he spouted a message. The drawings and messages showed the desperation of hundreds of thousands of people. It also showed their great spirit. By far my favorite piece of Graffiti is a sign that is posted close to the Wall. The American Government had erected it as a warning. The sign said "YOU ARE NOW LEAVING WEST BERLIN". Someone had grabbed a can of black paint and added these simple words "How am I supposed to do that?". And I was one of these Berliners. Nothing made me prouder than that. West Berliners had begun to fight back. With humor, with a spirit that could not be broken and with small gestures that meant more than hundreds of People protesting a wrong decision made by the wrong people. When I became old enough to go to School, my walk of only a few blocks took me past houses with windows as blind as the beggar on the street corner. No human face would show itself behind these soulless panes until well into my adulthood. Yet, never did those houses go unnoticed by West Berliners. Often flowers would appear in the oddest places. A bunch of Violets tied to a door handle, white daisies planted quickly in a break on the wall or a wreath remembering one of those who didn't make it over the wall. Simple white crosses all over the City, often without a name and only a date, marked spots where those trying to escape were killed. Often it was within only a few feet of their destination. The problem wasn't that East German police were sharp shooters (they were), but more that their West German counterparts were not allowed to shoot back. They were also not allowed to help anyone trying to cross the wall. Because a part of the wall ran through the dark, murky waters of the "Spree" river, Escapees often tried to swim across. But even if they were within a few feet of crossing and already safely in the West German sector of the City, East German Border guards still shot at them. And West German Police were helpless. Or were they? How often have they extended helping hands and pulled exhausted Escapees out of the water? Nobody knows because nobody made it public. What must it have felt like to jump into the dirty river at night and start swimming in dead silence, thinking you were completely alone? And then, when another swim stroke carried you into the western part of Berlin, you heard the cheering of people you didn't know, that didn't know you, but that would risk their lives to pull you ashore. Some of these Escapes became quite famous. The hot air balloon, the guy who tied a zip line across the wall and the famous Tunnel 21. These famous escape stories are well documented and, for a time, where displayed in photos and the actual tools used during the escape, at the "Museum at Checkpoint Charlie". "Tunnel 21 was made into a movie starring Richard Thomas of "Walton's" fame. While the movie ends in typical sappy fashion, it accurately portrays the problems faced by East German Escapees and West German helpers alike. But most of the Wall crossings were anonymous. How many people made it across and did not tell a soul. They simply made a new, quiet life for themselves and never mentioned that they had risked their life, and that of their families for Freedom. Families of Escapees were subjected to sheer terror, frequent controls by the East German Military Police, Interrogations and Arrests. How many people were incarcerated by only mentioning the word Escape is unclear, even to this date. Berliners questioned more and more why the Occupational Forces did nothing to tear down this Wall and this inhumane situation. Yes, the occasional letters of Protest and Sanctions were issued, but all in all nothing much was done. So why were forces from three Countries still occupying Germany in the 70s and 80s? Obviously not for that. Worse even that the western occupational forces now started making nice with the eastern occupational force. There were joint military exercises, the exchange of information and a general spying free for all. Kind of like "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." West Berliners did not take kindly to that. The quiet, silent fight came to an end. More and more people demonstrated loudly and violently against this practice. The German police fought back and lost. Not only because they were outnumbered, but also because their heart wasn't in it. How many policemen standing guard at streets lined with protesters wanted to shed their Uniforms and join in? West Berliners were decidedly ticked off. And you just don't tick off a West Berliner (I used the other word here, the one that starts with "P", but Epinions says I can't use that one) Attacks on the German and Occupational Force Government became more frequent and more violent. Very violent. High-ranking members of the German Government, now safely located in the City of Bonn, were kidnapped, tortured and killed. Government buildings in both West Berlin and West Germany burned to the ground and documents disappeared, only to be published in serious news magazines. By the early 80s I had finished College and worked for.....the US Air Force. I was called a traitor by some of my German friends. For me it simply was a job that paid well and offered great benefits. Because of the influx of "guest workers" from countries such as Turkey and Italy, and the success of these workers, good jobs were hard to come by and good paying jobs were next to impossible to obtain. But that was a whole other set of problems that would not see its Apex until after the Wall fell and by then I was in Texas, working for a Fortune 500 Company. I was still there when I received the news that the Wall had finally fallen. Again it was a day without any historical significance for me. I was outside pulling weeds when my neighbor, a sweet older woman, stuck her head out the window and started screaming at me to turn on my Television. I walked into the house, turned on the news channel, turned up the volume and walked back outside. My husband found me an hour later, as he came home from work. Standing in the middle of the yard, unable to move, tears of joy streaming down my face, with pulled weeds in my hand, streaks of dirt on my jeans and a smile of joy on my face. For me it was never Ronald Reagan's or John F. Kennedy's speeches and actions (or lack thereof) that had torn down the Wall. It was the spirit and the People of a City that I proudly called home for so many years.  |
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