The post-wall divide

By Mary Pinckney Waters

This morning I had breakfast at a 3.50-euro buffet with some old friends from the University of Bamberg, where I studied for a year on exchange. Toward the end of our lattes, Christian, the oldest in our group at 28, started telling stories from his childhood as an "Ossi," or East German, and had our corner of the cafe swinging between a loud laugh and a slowly exhaled "krass" (crass).

He started by recalling how he was on a "Star Search"-type program for a couple weeks when he was child, how he sang Socialist anthems in a ridiculously high voice and was never nervous like the other contestants.

He said one time his family had guests from the West and that within an hour of their departure, government officials knocked on their door to ask them the purpose of the visit, what was discussed and what the guests brought. He said that he knew it wasn't any coincidence that officials had showed up at such a convenient time, and that one of their neighbors must have been in the Stasi.

He talked about moving to the West and integrating in Western schools. He said his teacher and his principal were blatantly prejudiced against East Germans and remembers being called out from the other students. One time the fact that he and another student were the only East Germans at his school was mentioned over the intercom; he recalled this fact through laughter-laden words, and everyone at our table cracked up with him as if we were watching a black comedy with a hilariously unfortunate protagonist.

Christian said that finally a new student from the East came who couldn't speak Hochdeutsch (High German) like he could, and at last he had an easier time at his new school because all the discrimination was refocused on her.

He also said when his new teachers held lessons on East Germany, he would often raise his hand and correct them on inaccuracies. Once he offered to have his uncle come speak to the class about East Germany; he said when his uncle came, he basically unraveled the teacher's entire lesson from the day before. "Yeah, with propaganda probably," another laughed. No, Christian answered, giving an example. He said they were taught at his new school that East German children had military training in winter, but said that really what was called Winter Maneuver just meant going on an annual hunt. "Yeah, Winter Maneuver was a lot of fun," he said, eyes distant and smile settled. But when I asked my friend Thomas, from West Germany, what he thought of the hunt, he said that he, and others, still considered such structures as Winter Maneuver a form of military training, adding that these topics are still very divisive for Germans.

Christian went on to talk about how he thought how older generations had an easier time in East Germany because the infrastructure provided for them better and the political philosophy was more family- and community-focused. "Hey, I love my neighbor," a "Wessi" at the table joked. Behind the wide smiles I wondered to what degree honor was being defended on the breakfast table between us, or whether this young generation was really just talking between sarcastic sides about its elders' choices.