The One with 100 Days of Observation

100 Tage. 100 days. There is something about nice round numbers that make them resonate just a tad bit more. Sure, 98 days is a long time, but add in those extra two pretty normal days and out comes that three digit, crisp number 100. That is how many days I have been living as a German. I find it incredible to think that, coincidentally, exactly one year ago today my dad and I drove the airport to pick up my exchange student from Germany, darling Clara, so that she could spend a month seeing what it was like to live in Wisconsin. As I sit in my German room writing this blog post, I cannot actually picture clearly what my American house, street, town, family or friends look like, smell like, feel like... I conjure up pictures in my mind, but they somehow seem just as vague as when I attempted to predict what life would be like here. An ocean between, even if you have seen the other side of it before, just makes really difficult to truly comprehend how things are, were, or will be, even with the technological advancements of today. When you can't touch something, look someone in the eyes, or feel like a real part of a group, I find it hard to develop true feelings or a real outlook. On this note, I would like to use this cliche 100 Day post to share some of my observations and perspectives on the situation in Europe right now. In writing this, I will not try to make any whimsical political proclamations or attempt to say that I know how everyone in Europe feels right now, or that I even have a clue what sorts of things have happened or are happening; as a 16 year-old American living in Germany, I'd like to share my thoughts and experiences as a subjective human being in hopes that maybe some of you can feel closer to Europe through my words. After all, isn't that what writing and reading are all about?

Two Mondays ago I went on a memorial walk (Gedenkmarsch) for Kristallnacht, one of the most well-known and remembered pogroms in Germany and Austria. We went throughout Westerstede with lanterns, stopping by places like the graveyard, school and library, all of which correlated with the Jewish history of our town. It was fascinating to hear the stories relating to the different locations, and to see how a fair number of people came out in remembrance of an ugly phase of German history that could just as easily be pushed under the rug and disregarded. It certainly resonated for me, much more than hearing about it in a classroom setting in the United States. In relationship to my introductory remarks, it is so much more impactful to be there and see things in front of your face, as opposed to looking at the pages of a dry history book. But there is always a feeling that one is somehow divided or separated from the events of the past. This notion, however, is not apparent when one really feels as though they are a part of history, which has been brought to the surface due to the refugee crisis in Europe and the attack on Paris.

Before I get into some of my observations on the European response to the terrorist attacks, I'd like to touch on the refugee situation itself, which is most definitely and unfortunately affected by the assaults. Before coming to Germany, I had absolutely no clue how many refugees (Flüchtlinge in German) were moving to Germany, France, England and so on from countries like Somalia and Syria seeking any place that was not devastated by war. Often these people come to registration offices like the one I had to go to to acquire my visa unable to speak any German or English and cannot give the birthdate or age of their children. There are naturally also less extreme cases, like the refugee family my host mother and I brought from the train station to Westerstede after dropping Clara off. The Somalian family was made up of a mom, a dad and a 1 year old baby. At first, the woman asked in a mix of German and English if we could help them to find a bus that went to the Famila grocery store in Westerstede. My host mom Sabine and I looked for a bit at the bus plan, but then Sabine turned back to them and said instead that we would be happy to take them with us. They had with them only a stroller and a bag containing baby things, which we folded up and put into the trunk. We spoke mostly about the adorable little baby boy (his name, age and so on) and they also informed us, in pretty okay German, that they would be staying with cousins in Westerstede, who lived next door to the grocery store. That made them very fortunate in comparison to most other refugees, who, in Northern Germany, are housed together in gymnasiums, closed down stores, or vacation residences on islands like Borkum. This often means they are placed in the same room/ area with people with the same religion as those who are terrorizing the people in their home country. As we unloaded the car in the parking lot of Famila, I held the little baby and realized how normal the situation felt. Sure, the 3 of us came from Somalia, 1 from Germany and 1 from the United States, but we are all just people. People who are willing to help other people out when they need it, and people who are extremely grateful for this help. This is, for the most part, the vibe I get from my classmates, friends, family and teachers: refugees are people just like us, regardless of race, culture or religion, and deserve the chance to make a new home in a safer country.

In an effort to keep this post from getting extremely long winded (for those of you who know me well, this is always a struggle), I will leave out some of the information I would have liked to provide on the short story we are reading in my English course right now, which deals with the topic of religious differences and portrays the story of a young man whose father and mother immigrated to England. He decides to throw away all the western pleasures in his life and turn to radical Islam, completely baffling his father, who has adapted very well to the English culture. The short story is called My Son the Fanatic and is a 20 page, quick read for anyone interested in a piece of literature that mirrors the conflict in Europe right now unbelievably well. There is naturally a good amount of fear that the refugees that countries like Germany and France are providing shelter, food, and opportunities for share the same ideals as the Ali, the son from Hanif Kureishi's story; that is, that they detest all things western and believe that the real life for them begins after death.

With all of this in mind, I would like to get to the main observation I can give on this situation: the unity, involvement, and openness of the European people is truly astounding. When signing up for an exchange to Germany, I had not anticipated the close ties that all of the UN nations have with each other; I feel not only like a German, but also like a European. After the attack on Paris, it was clear that it was not only to been received by the public as an assault on France, but rather as an attack on all Europeans, particularly the Germans. It was not to be ignored that the opponent of the French soccer game targeted by the terrorists was Germany, which seemingly foreshadowed the discovery of explosives in an ambulance meant to go to the soccer game in Hannover, which was luckily canceled. Though this may be seen by some as an act of cowardice, I am amazed by how strong Angela Merkel has managed to show herself as the representative of Germany throughout the attacks and the refugee crisis. In general, I would also say that these events have shown me how aware the German people are of what is going on in the world and are always actively thinking about it. The group chat I have with my German friends was a discussion forum for the Paris attacks last Saturday, the dinner table with my host mom and brother also served a similar purpose. There is always a 15 minute news segment from 8-8:15 pm on all television channels, even ones geared toward children, before normal programming begins. Monday in the middle of my German course we took a moment of silence as a whole school. We spent time in my English class going over the possible actions and consequences in German before we started our normal lesson. The list goes on and on. One thing is extremely clear and a very eye-opening thing to be a part of: the people of Europe are not really broken up by language or borders. They are actively working together throughout this refugee crisis and threat of terrorism to band together as one well informed unit, free of Grenzen.

The length of this post got a smidge out of hand, but it was very difficult to get all of the thoughts that have been mulling around in my head into little black letters on a screen. I would be extremely interested to hear any of my American readers' opinions, thoughts, questions, or feelings on any of the topics I have mentioned, as this is definitely not a discussion reserved to Europe. I am intrigued to see what it will be like going to back to the US and observing everything once again from Wisconsin, but for 230 more days, I will attempt to soak in as much as I am able to in Deutschland.

Liebe Grüße,
Hannah

(Apologies once more for any crazy sentence structures or grammatical errors, it is a currently challenge to write in English with all the German running around in my thoughts...)