Advertisement
Published: November 12th 2008
The Berlin Wall
... one of 3 pieces that are left in the city as memorials. SATURDAY!!!!
OK, my blogging abilities are wearing thin. We'll see how many more of these I can pull out today. 😊
We made it to the Dresden train station kein problem (without problem) and had a direct ride to Berlin, about a 2 hour trip.
Our first order of business was to find out hostel, which took a bit more work since I had gotten directions from a different train station in Berlin, not the main one. Oops. But Amazing-Beth to the rescue figured out our route in short order and we were on our way! It was a bit of a walk, but we made it, and I loved the fact that we were two Americans wandering the streets of Germany's capital alone. (Just another difference between here and Honduras that's jumped out at me).
We found our hostel by the white cloth hanging out front with "HOSTEL" painted on it. Above the door was the name, "The Eastener." We rang the bell. Nobody answered. A sign said to call a cell number or check in at the "Green Eggs and Ham" Cafe across the street. (That was seriously the name
of the place and it was complete with Dr. Suess books!) The owner of the hostel was phoned, said he'd be 20 minutes, and have a drink on him. So we both got hot chocolates and settled back with a couple maps of the city to roughly plan our next day and a half.
An hour went by and finally Matt showed up. Very apologetic, but obviously still trying to figure out which way was up. "Once a year," he explained, "I let myself go a little crazy. It just happened to be last night." We were all (there were a couple more travelers waiting) busting up. But the place was nice and we were content. And he gave us a discount b/c we had to wait, so no worries all around.
We met a guy from the UK that had been traveling by himself for a couple weeks around East Europe. The three of us set out to see one of the three pieces of the Berlin wall that still stand. If we didn't know that's where it was, or if we weren't looking for it, we would have passed it without a thought. It's not that
tall or very thick and looks pretty much like any common city wall covered with graffiti.
Next we walked (quite a ways!) to Check-Point Charlie, where we went through the museum "that has no end." There is so much in this place and tons of history. I had been here ten years ago with my brother and remember being fascinated by the escape stories, those trying to get into West Berlin from East Berlin. People crammed themselves into suitcases, guitar amps, hallowed out radios (the BIG kinds), under the hood of a car, or stuffed inside a car seat. Two guys dressed up in a cow suite and "mooed" their way across a grassy part of the divide. Others created special ladders, hot air balloons, dug tunnels, or lied to the guard. One man, coming from the East side, created a story, practiced his accent and told the guard,
"I'm from Austria, have been holidaying here and just heard that my mother, in West Berlin is very ill!"
The guard replied, "And where are your papers and documentation?"
The man: "Wouldn't you know! I left them on some bus by accident and have no idea where
they are! But I must get across to see my mother! It's very urgent!"
The man stayed, pleading with the guard for such a long time, drawing out his pitiful story that finally the guard had some sort of pity on him. The guard went to check with another officer and left the man in the charge of a second guard, who hadn't heard any of the story or know what was going on.
So the second guard asked the man, "What are you doing here?"
And the man gives his story ... although with slight modifications. "I'm from Austria and have been holidaying in WEST Berlin. I just heard that my mother, who is in EAST Berlin is very ill. I love my dear mother so much that I came straight away to see her!"
Guard #2: "And where's your documentation? Where are your papers?"
Man: "Wouldn't you know! I was in such a hurry to see my mother that I left them in the hotel back in West Berlin. I didn't want to waste time. The hotel's about 5 minutes from here."
Guard #2: "Well that was awfully stupid of you! Go
back to your hotel, get your papers and in ten minutes time you can be on your way to see your mother."
So the guard sent the man off to West Berlin ... never to be heard from again! Absolutely splendid.
... Even with the few ingenious and comical stories, it is impossible to have a light-hearted mood walking through the check-point museum. The history, the stories, the hate, the death and destruction BREAK MY HEART! I can't even image having such a horrible life that dying would be worth the risk to try and escape. I can't imagine being separated from my family, friends and neighbors. Just like that. One day we're having dinner together and the next day you know you'll never see them again. Did you know the wall was supposed to be up forever? In the days just before it came down those in power claimed it would stand for another hundred years! Did you know that East German solders were awarded raises and high positions for killing those trying to escape to West Berlin.
And I can't help but cry out WHY?! when I see the pain and hate and anger and death. What would possess someone or a group of people to be so cold, so hard-hearted, so selfish? And that's really what it is. It was for power, for wealth, for control, for safety of self.
But in the very face of darkness I'm inspired. There were people that rose against the odds, that fought for the change they longed to see. Did you know that there were some East German guards that looked the other way when someone was escaping? He risked rank, rewards, power and prestige for the sake of another. That is courage. That is true strength.
One letter in the museum struck me. She was a friend, or acquaintance at least, of someone in power. She had made a pencil drawing and sent him a letter. The drawing was of naked people, lifelessly sitting in the "middle ground". No hope. No existence. As if they were already dead. Part of her letter said something to the effect that, "I am writing you and sending this picture, not for what good it will do to remedy my own personal situation, but rather in the hopes that this may do something to help the rest of them in the same condition."
And that's a key for me. My own situation in life is of little importance. (I thank God that I'm not persecuted or forced into any way of life I don't want). But what is it that I can do to alleviate the suffering of OTHERS? Social injustice is all around us, not just in "closed" or 3rd world countries, but even in the United States and other developed countries. There is sadness and sickness and pain, and so often we are just so focused on US, on our lives, that we don't even see it! OUCH! That hurts me. That rips at my heart that I would allow injustice to happen simply by not doing anything. Sure, I can walk through a museum and sigh and say, "What a shame. What a pity. How awful." But what if I had lived 30 years ago? What if I was comfy and happy in my own little world? Would I have cared then? Would I have DONE something about it?
Personally, it's impossible for me to FEEL for what happened in the past without DOING something about what's going on in the present. And that leaves me with asking myself the deciding question: WHAT is it that you're going to DO?
Another part of the museum that was added deals with social injustice in various countries: Poland, Romania, Hungry, USSR, the civil rights movement in the States. As I walked through this part, looking at the photos, bits of barbed wire that had once divided countries, and read the accounts of who was in power and when such and such happened ... I realized that at one time every single one of those people had been a child. Hitler, Stalin, Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi ... they had each been a little child at one time. Did you know that nearly all of our life-views and beliefs are in place by the age of 12? As I thought about it, it struck me how much astronomical potential for GOOD is in each little child, and at the same time how much astronomical potential for EVIL is in each little child.
Ever ruler in the history of the world was at one time a little boy or a little girl of 3, 5, 10 years. Every thing that they experienced, ever person that came into their lives, every moment made them into who they became and set the foundation for what they would ultimately accomplish in their lifetime. And I know that we're each born with a certain personality, a certain disposition -- I know that. But still, we are who we are, we respond how we respond, we act how we act, because of how we grew-up. Our parents and siblings, or lack of them, our teachers, our friends, our experiences lead us to what we do next.
And I don't want to live in "what-ifs", but I have to think about it to arrive where I need to be on this topic. What if his childhood had been different? What if such-and-such had (or hadn't) happened in his teen years? Apply it to anyone. Hitler. Martin Luther King Jr. Stalin. Gandhi. I feel confident to say that changing just a few things in their younger years would have set them on a very different course in life.
But those are only "what ifs". What it really does for me is smack me right between the eyes and say "LOOK APRIL!!! THIS IS FOR YOU!!!" And it almost makes me weep to think of the countless number of children I have encountered. And in so many different ways: babysitting, Bible clubs, church, schools, tutoring, camps, Michigan, Florida, Honduras ... And I know that with some kids it was just a passing "blink and she's gone." But for others I know it was a much more lastly impression. The thing that kills me is looking back and knowing that there were too many times when I lost my temper, got upset, said the wrong thing at the wrong time, was anything but a positive influence. That tears me up inside, and all I can do is leave it in God's hands.
But I also know there have been times when I left a glimmer of hope in a child's life. There have been times when I was able to listen, to cry, to share a hug or a smile or laughter. Times when I was able to share the greatest thing of all ... God's unchanging, never-ending, free for everyone LOVE. And now it's not just sharing the LOVE, but also the PURPOSE. To share with a child that he or she was created for an unbelievably amazing PURPOSE and that God has an out-of-this-world GOOD plan for his or her life. THAT is my dream. THAT is my passion. And that's the way to spread the HOPE through the world. Who knows where that child will end up, or who he or she will be some day. But I know that if he knows that he is loved by God and that God has a purpose for his life, I'm confident that he will leave his piece of the world a better place.
And all of this is what was rolling around in my head as I saw and read the lives of those that risked, and often lost, everything in order to fight for what was right. It's that fight for the change I want to see happen, it's that fight against social injustice, that inspires me. I don't dream of changing the world, but perhaps I may influence one person that will someday.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.21s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 10; qc: 65; dbt: 0.0876s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
Amber D
non-member comment
It's the little things that make a big difference
Thanks for sharing your thoughts April. Good stuff. Your last sentence made me think of a little saying we have in our house by Mother Teresa that goes, "We can do no great things; only small things with great love."