Occupation 101

Every year on this weekend, Magdeburg observes a memorial day in honor of those lost in the WWII bombing of the city. Every year on this weekend, the Neo-Nazis demonstrate, publicizing their claim that bombings such as these were the "true Holocaust," and that the Germans ought to revere the men who fought to defend their land. There are, of course, counter demonstrations, ranging from organized, peaceful groups, to roudy antifa punk cliques.

I had considered going to the demonstration, but I slept in and it was raining (ain't I a great activist?), so I lazed about for the morning reading a cookbook. Late afternoon, I settled on Stir Fried Chicken with Chinese Cabbage and Death By Chocolate Torte. The rain had let up, so I ventured out to go buy the ingredients. By this time, I figured, the protests must be over, as they had started around 9:00am.

How wrong I was.

Walking through the city was surreal. It was still dark and wet, spritzing a bit, and hardly anyone was on the street. And then I saw the blue lights flashing up ahead. Another block. One more block. And then, there they were. The Nazis.

The wore all black, and carried black flags with them. This was their "Trauermarsch" - a Mourning March. And all around were police. So many officers in olive green, white helmets on or at their sides. Cars, vans, trucks. Ambulances and motorcycles.

It was surreal. At first, I didn't realize they were the Nazis, because they were so quiet. I thought it might have been a counterdemo. But then I got close enough to read the signs. Disgusting messages and thoughts covered up to seem simply 'patriotic' or 'conservative'. On a few of the buildings, big signs were hanging from windows, saying things like, "Magdeburg doesn't want any Nazis" or "Nazis? No, thanks." The people on the street, the others like me, were mostly standing on the sidelines, watching the demonstration. Some were intrigued, some unconcerned, some clearly revolted.

Having passed by the marchers, I reached an intersection that is generally bustling to the point of frustration. Here is a mall, the market, and several big department stores. Normally, you need to elbow your way across the street or into a building. Not today. It was so still, so bleak. More police. Trolleys were running on a holiday schedule, and rerouted around the march, and cars were almost non present. A few groups of people, huddled under an awning to avoid the drizzle, smoking cigarettes.

I went to the store and bought the food. Inside, it was busy, but not jammed. I couldn't shake the feeling, though, that it was horribly strange to be buying delicious things when the Nazis were, at this point, probably marching right past my home. I walked back, and by now it was dark. Police, everywhere, green and white with blue lights and there in the distance the black silhouettes of the Nazis with their damned flags.

I came to a street I needed to walk down in order to get home. There was a police barricade there, vans blocking the street, officers standing guard, with more cars off to the side of the road. I asked an officer if I was allowed to walk down the street.

-"This area is blocked."
-"Oh..." Because, really, that wasn't obvious at all.
-"Where do you need to go?"
-"Kepler Street."
-"Do you live there?"
-"Yeah, but if it's blocked, then it's blocked... I don't want to cause any trouble." Maybe playing it sweet and innocent will get me past the otherwise stoic German police. They really are sticklers for rules.
He consults with his partner: "I guess we could let her through, right?" "Yeah, I suppose."
-"Okay, you may enter. Stay off the street and go directly home; no wandering off."
-"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Although the marchers had passed this particular part of the route, the street was still empty, devoid of passersby. I was constantly on edge, looking this way and that, creating impossible scenarios of being jumped and warding off the offender with chicken thighs and heavy cream. Glancing back at where I had come from, the police were still there, solid and unmoving, and so many of them, even though the protest was no longer there. I have no doubt they remained well into the night.

In all the buildings, hardly any lights were on. Those rooms that were illuminated had the curtains drawn. I don't know if this was coincidence or paranoia. I had left my curtains open, but it felt somehow wrong, what with all the other shades drawn everywhere I looked. I closed them, and left the lights on as low as practicable.

All day, I had been trying on and off to reach the Buchmanns, who were away at a Quaker business meeting for the day. As the day turned to evening and then to night and I still had no reply from them, I got really agitated. I had expected them to be back this evening, as they mentioned doing something together tomorrow. Given the day's atmosphere, I was very nervous, the type of nervous you get when you have a fixed idea of how something should be in order for it to be 'correct' or 'right', and then it doesn't happen, and you wait, and it doesn't correct itself. The type of nervous I get when I expect to see Dad online, and he doesn't come on and I justify it, saying "Oh, he's busy," or "Oh, he has lunch," or "Oh, maybe he's at the new building." But because I know he's almost always online, these excuses don't do much to console me, because, damn it, that doesn't fit my cosmic vision and I'm forced to make mountains out of molehills. Why isn't he on? Did the electricity go out? Is there a storm in Philly? A fire in his building? Where are the Buchmanns? Are they in bed already? Did they have to drive through Mageburg to drop Johanna off, and get caught in the demonstrations? Was there an accident? Are they okay?

They are okay. They are staying overnight where the meeting was and will be back tomorrow afternoon. But, God, those minutes of pure "Ahhh!" are horrifying. Hearing the police sirens every now and then, afraid for some unknown reason to open my curtains, unsure of where my family was, having spent the day walking through a ghost town crawling with cops...

I can't help but wonder what it's really like to live in a region occupied by the military. To be unsure of the fate of your loved ones. To see officers on every corner of an empty city. To wait at the red light even though you're the only one waiting to cross and there are no cars or trolleys or bikers - to wait, simply because there are several police officers standing there or sitting in cars, and you are too spooked out to cross against the light and attract attention from them, because you're wearing a long black coat and black boots, and didn't know the Nazis were doing that, too, when you set out that afternoon, and even though you're a pacifist bisexual female American Jew and most definitely not a Nazi, they could still give you trouble, cause they're the cops, and this day, the whole city belongs to them.