Date: 09 November 2009 06:30:00
the Berlin Wall fell.
This world-changing event was for me one of the most emotional events I had witnessed on TV at the time. I sat in front of the telly in the tiny sitting room of my London flat with tears streaming down my face as people sat and danced and walked on top of the Berlin Wall, the symbol of the cold war, the symbol of the division of not only East and West Germany but the physical demarcation between capitalism and communism. The tears were partly for the joy on the faces of those who felt that they were finally free after years of oppression. But they were also for a sort of pain - the disappointment that the East Germans might discover that the West was not all it was cracked up to be. An improvement on their own conditions, without a doubt, but I do remember thinking, "Please don't make the mistakes we've made - money and affluence are not the answers you're looking for."
Later that evening people flooded through the Brandenburg Gate checkpoint - in both directions. Easterners coming to seeing for themselves how the other half live - and Westerners going in search of their friends and family from whom they had been separated by the wall, the death strip, tripwires, guards and dogs.
November 9 that year was a Thursday. The following day and weekend were gloriously chaotic in Germany as the people celebrated and the two governments tried to keep abreast of what was happening.
In my corner of the world, I was trying to make sense of it, too in my own way. At the time I worked for the British Council in a department which organised professional tours for visiting professionals in their particular field of interest. One of the tours I had spent the previous 6 weeks organising was for an East German dignitary. Unfortunately I cannot now remember exactly what his tour involved but I do remember it was not a run-of-the- mill tour because his was a buff-coloured file! (Blue denoted straight-forward and orange meant there were some special measures to be taken. Buff meant even more extra special measures - such are the categories used in the public service.)
All these years later I cannot remember the chap's name, but I do remember pondering what I could possibly bring up in the way of small talk at his briefing. He was due to fly into London on the Saturday (11th) and meet me in the office at 9.00 am on Monday 13th. I wasn't entirely sure if he would even be there. What a dilemma for the poor man, I thought. He had probably been working his way up the ranks for years, proving his loyalty to the Party to be sufficiently senior, important and trustworthy to be allowed to go to the West without any fear of his defecting. Now, in his late fifties/early sixties, he had achieved his goal and had no doubt been looking forward immensely to his week of freedom in the West. Who would ever have dreamt that two days before he was due to fly that the world would change so dramatically?
Had he wondered that if he went on the visit as planned this might be construed as showing disloyalty to the Party in its hour of need? Would the borders be back in place with even greater restrictions by the time he returned? Could he leave his family at this momentous point in history?
What an irony that the West he had no doubt been so curious to see and that he had spent a lifetime working to see was now available to anyone wishing to wander nonchalantly through the Brandenburg Gate!
I wasn't sure if he was a member of the Party (although it seemed likely as such privileges were not often 'squandered' on others) and did not quite know how to approach our meeting. I wondered that if he had indeed decided to come, whether he had spent the weekend exploring London or if he had spent most of his time glued to the TV watching events unfold in Berlin.
Monday morning dawned and I arrived in the office full of anticipation. Whilst preparing his programme, I had realised that this man was the first East German I would meet. I received a message to say that he had arrived in Reception. I went to meet him - still not really knowing what to say. We shook hands and greeted one another and then there was the 60-second walk to the meeting room. I asked if he had had a good flight and enjoyed the weekend. He said he had but he had spent a lot of time watching television. "Ah yes," I said in German. "There have been some extraordinary events happening in your country recently, haven't there?" "This is true," he replied.
Gentle reader, I was itching to ask him more but felt that without knowing whose side he was on or how things in Germany were likely to pan out, I felt ill equipped to tackle the subject. (I could never be a double agent - or even a diplomat; I'd be in knots within minutes!). Lamely, I steered the conversation on to more familiar matters - namely the outline of his programme for the next week.
It would be quite fascinating to meet him again now that twenty years have passed. (He may still be alive). I would love to ask him about what he thought then, how he feels things have worked out. How do things compare between then and now? Is he largely satisfied with the new order or is he an East German who harbours a sense of Ostalgie - nostalgia for the good old days of the Ost (East)?