Den Himmel in einem fremden Land achten
Before I left my country for good, my parents reminded me to keep “respect the sky whereever you put your feet on the ground,” or in our language we say,”Dimana kaki berpijak disitu langit dijunjung”. It means whereever you are, you have to be able to fit into your environment and respect the local culture. At first, I knew Germany during my holiday or business trip.
For 2 or 3 weeks , Germany is always interesting to explore day and night. I learned about its culture from the German institutions who hired me for a couple of years back in Jakarta. Then came the time when I moved to Germany.
What I see day by day here does not always impress me anymore. I’m not tourist anymore. I live here. My simple one-word name created a big problem everytime I dealt with government or private institution. There was no other possibility but to take my husband´s family name. Just to simplify all administrative process. I was fed up to explain why my name consisted of one word and no family name. Years earlier, when I worked for a German government institution in Jakarta, my first monthly salary was delayed because of not having a “proper” full name. Their computer system at the administration department in Koeln could not process my name. They automatically asked again and again my family name. In Indonesia, where I come from, having no family name is not a big deal.
Everything I had heard about Germany: effective, clean, sophisticated and organized is really true. I’m not talking here about a scientific gadget or infamous technology. Take for an example a supermarket shopping process. Na ja, after one and half years living here, I have to confess that I haven’t graded up my supermarket-shopping-speed yet. When I struggle to grab my wallet in my bag, or finish putting all my stuff into the plastic bag, the cashier lady has already mentioned the amount I should pay, “Funfunddreizig Euro sieben Cent, bitte!” Oh, wait, wait, wait.... but the middle-age man behind me has already sighed impatiently. Ouch!
A couple weeks ago, Joschka Fischer came to Bonn for a political campaign. Muensterplatz was full with the Bonner who intended to hear his speech. Based on my experience covering a political campaign in my country, at that particular time I would not be able to have a strategic spot to get his picture. I pushed myself through the crowd to get the best view in front. I was surprised when I found a special area available just for the press before the stage. Splitter for the audio lying in the middle so don’t worry about losing mini disc while taking pictures. To get a good angle, photographing doesn’t need to be a struggle. Mr. Fischer was standing before me and no barrier view in between. There are even benches available for journalist who wants to write there. Super. Just sit calmly, listen and concentrate on what Mr. Fischer is saying. This is the most luxurious facility for open-air event I’ve ever had! Then I remember my journalist collagues who cover the latest Indonesian political campaign. They have to do jibaku everytime they are in the crowd, not to forget about being careful of pickpocket and agressive audience.
I always try my daily life to the fullest. Carpe Diem. However, sometimes I wonder when people greet me with “Schoenes Wochenende!”, (Nice weekend!) if comes from their heart. How “schoen” (nice) do they wish my weekend to be? Tell me, what should I do on sunday morning? Besides with the members of my family, the other chance to communicate with other people is when I have to buy bread at the bakery early in the moning. The streets are empty, shops closed. When dealing some other things, for example when I need a bar of Mars, or a pack of cigarettes, or a bottle of Coke, it puts me into a situation where I have to interact with a machine. Bloodless and expressionless. In this case, I would rather say “I hate sunday” instead of monday.
Now, let’s take a look at how mondays work. It’s 07.57 AM at Bonn Hauptbahnhof U-Bahn Haltestelle. I close my eyes. What do i hear? Hurried steps, the train buzzling and an emotionless voice saying from time to time „Linie sechsundsechzig, Telekom Express. Nach Bad Honnef ueber Rheinaue“. I get on to the train and, hey! It’s silent! The passengers don’t talk to each other and it’s so difficult to find the shape of a smile on thier faces. Especially during the seasons when the sun doesn’t visit germany too often.
A good German friend of mine contacted me a couple weeks ago. He is a dedicated retired senior journalist who spent most of his life all around the globe. He told me that he just came back for a long visit to South East Asia. He asked me, “Tell me my dear friend, are you surviving there? When will you and your new small family sattle back to Indonesia?”. I could portrayed myself sitting at the back yard of my parents house, under the green-lavish-trees and sipping a glass of jasmine scanted ice tea. Or probably eating grilled seafood at Jimbaran beach in Bali and feel the sea breeze. I answered him, “Thank you, I am surviving. I’m still try to respect the German sky – which is not always blue”.
By: Miranti Hirschmann
Published by: Der Tagesspiegel, 2 Oct 2005 in German language
