One day in Weimar

By A.D. Donggo

For nearly half an hour Ayub stood mesmerized, contemplating in admiration the statues of Goethe and Schiller in the front yard of the National Theater in the small town of Weimar. Ayub was a stranger here.

Actually, Ayub did not really know why he was so entranced by the statues of these two German literary figures, exuding nobility, standing hand in hand. Was it because he had once cursorily read Goethe and Schiller in a translation, or because of the majestic sight of the two men, created by the great German sculptor Ernest Rutschel? Goethe and Schiller were inseparable friends.

Or was there another reason? The German people appreciate their men of letters. In Weimar, apart from the two statues, the houses where they lived have been preserved as museums. Ayub had been there and had marveled at both museums. All the belongings of the two men were kept there, in good condition. Books, chairs, tables, beds, studies and art objects. Ayub could not find enough words to express his admiration. Germany pays great respect to its literary figures.

Ayub had arrived in the small town of Weimar last night. A friend advised him to come here and see the town. His friend had told him that Weimar had once been the center of German classical literature. The main figures were Goethe and Schiller. Goethe was once nicknamed the Wise Man from Weimar.

His friend also told him that not far from Weimar, the history of mankind had painfully recorded the atrocities of the Buchenwald concentration camp. A place of torture, with the mass murder of Jews in giant furnaces. An unparalleled contradiction. On the one hand Weimar was a center of the development of German classical literature (possibly of culture too), on the other it was a place of savagery established as a new civilization. That was the story. He had to see it, his friend had told him.

Ayub had considered this suggestion for some time. He told himself he did not care. He was a tourist. He did not need to think of serious matters. Tourism should be fun. Not something to create anything too enduring. Momentary impressions would be enough. He was not that interested in whether Weimar was the center of German classical literature, or whether it once housed a concentration camp for Jews. But eventually he had come. And this morning he had been here with some other tourists. It was true, the buildings which had witnessed the atrocities were still intact and well maintained. As a witness to history, said the guide. The history of Germans as an allegedly superior race, and as a nation which had committed unequaled cruelties. Ayub had been aghast at the words of the guide. He did not know whether the words came from the conscience of a German or from a man who saw cruelty only as cruelty. Could such atrocities be forgiven? He had realized then that the atrocities were not committed by the Germans as a nation but by a conviction that the Jews were parasites and filth that should be wiped off the surface of the earth.

Ayub was still looking at the statues of Goethe and Schiller. A breeze blew over his body. He felt cold although it was July, summer in all of Europe. Coming from the tropics, he felt cold although he had donned a jacket. There was no sun and the sky was somewhat overcast. Was it going to rain? He could not be sure, he could not read the signs of the seasons in a foreign country.

A thought flashed through his mind. What if the slaughtering of Jews had taken place at the time of the two great literary men? Would they have justified or condemned it? What would the Wise Man of Weimar have said? A question that could not be answered. Ayub felt the urge to turn the wheels of history of the 1940s back to the 18th century when Goethe and Schiller had come to settle in Weimar. And the atrocities of the concentration camp would take place before their eyes. They would see how husbands were separated from their wives, lovers were torn apart, children were taken away from their parents. They would also see how people were thrown into the giant incinerators.

They might protest, because to burn people alive is evil. It soils civilization and humanity. They might even have said it besmirched the superiority of the German race. However, they would realize they were facing power. Power is power, it will destroy everything that stands in its way. Power never cares whether it is facing a wise man, a pastor or a religious teacher. If something threatens the continuity of power, it will be suppressed. Power is always totalitarian in character, only its intensity reflects whether the reaction is a refined one or a crude one.

Suddenly Ayub was shaken out his dream. Somebody was addressing him from behind. He turned quickly. He was fearful that the person would strike him. Lately things had been happening in German cities. The sense of racial superiority had reawakened, much like in the 1930s and 1940s. Now foreigners were seen as enemies, some had even been murdered. More violence against foreigners could not be avoided, probably. History would repeat itself, who could stop it? Though things might not be as destructive as the Jewish experience.

Ayub was now ready for whatever was coming. A fist in his face? Possibly. The man was very big and tall. He saw in him a giant with cruel facial traits and savage eyes. No, he could not fight this giant. Once his opponent got his arms around him, his neck would be snapped.

Ayub waited, his courage sinking. No action from the man yet, only his eyes became wilder, focusing on him. He suddenly regretted his trip to Germany. It was in the news that a wave of anti-foreign sentiment was sweeping the country. The causes of the riots were not entirely clear, especially to him as a foreigner.

"Are you from the Middle East?" the man asked without much ado. The question put him at a disadvantage. Was the Middle East not the homeland of Jews, Arabs and even Turks, although Turkey was close to the eastern part of Europe? Turks had been the victims of the cruelties of those people who did not like foreigners.

"What do you mean?" Ayub asked back, as if not understanding the question.

"I asked whether you came from the Middle East. Did you not understand?" he asked, annoyed.

"Why do you think I come from the Middle East?"

"Because of your looks."

Indeed Ayub's face slightly resembled that of the people from those countries. He had a rather sharp nose, clear skin, curly hair and doe eyes.

"If I am not from the Middle East, then what do you want?" he asked in defiance.

"Nothing. I only want to make your acquaintance," the man said. His voice changed suddenly. It was quiet, showing some surprise.

"But the way you ..."

"Frightened you."

"It is true."

"I apologize."

Now the man shook hands with Ayub and said his name was Wolfgang. He did not say his surname. Ayub did not inquire either.

Although Ayub was taken by surprise by the drastic change in the man's attitude, he accepted his hand and told him his name.

"I am not from the Middle East. In fact I am not an Arab nor a Jew, nor a Turk," Ayub said. He emphasized the word Turk to convince Wolfgang that he was not a Turk. The Turks had been the target of the xenophobia of those young Germans who wanted to revive the sad history of Germany.

"Forgive me," continued Wolfgang, "Recent events have made foreign tourists feel unsafe here."

"Including me," admitted Ayub. "Just now when you addressed me without any introduction, I thought you were going to hit me. I thought you were one of the young, violent people who don't like foreigners."

"No, I am not one of them. Germany's past is too bitter to be repeated."

"But the actions of the young men... By reviving the exaggerated patriotism of Germans, they intend to repeat the country's history."

"Impossible."

"Evidently you do not agree with what has taken place recently."

"It is not a matter of agreeing or not. There is another problem that has not been solved. For example, the unification of the two Germanies. It has not gone smoothly and quickly enough. The great difference between the west and the east, especially in economic life, is a problem that cannot be settled rapidly. And this is the result, a time bomb left by the two forces which once occupied Germany after the second world war. Anyway, they do not want our nation to become another power at the present time. A new superpower after the disintegration of the Soviet Union," Wolfgang said as if in reflection.

"You mean?" Ayub was encouraging him to continue.

"Though we had lost the war, in a short time we re-emerged as a respected nation, especially the western part of Germany."

"So did Japan."

"That is a historical fact."

"I know. And now Germany is reunified."

"And it does not run smoothly."

"Japan was more fortunate because it was not split."

"True."

"They have become a tremendous force, mainly economically. Perhaps in the future militarily too."

"If we had not been divided ..." Wolfgang was pondering. He seemed reluctant to respond to Ayub's opinion.

"By two opposing ideological forces."

"True. It is not possible that an ideology which has been planted, whether by force or not, and has grown for nearly half a century, will be eradicated thoroughly. It's a fairly long process."

"The process is still taking place and now new things are happening here. According to the papers the Neo-Nazi movement is growing. What do you think?"

"I don't know." Wolfgang remained noncommittal.

"Has the movement won supporters?" Ayub was insistent.

"Let's not talk about it." Wolfgang avoided the question again.

"Or perhaps, there are people who do not like to see Germany grow into a new superpower, as you say. They incite young people to violent actions against foreigners. Is that not the emergence of fascism?" Ayub insisted.

"I'm not sure that fascism will come alive again. That movement will be suppressed. But whether Germany will be a new superpower, history will decide later."

"Are you sure?"

"Why not?"

"But there is another force to prevent it. They do not want history to repeat itself."

"Certainly not fascism."

"What do you mean?"

"Germany will rise as a superior nation," Wolfgang said proudly.

"But America is number one now."

"Yes, at the moment. In another era, another nation will be number one."

"Unified Germany, perhaps?"

"I did not say that."

"And then?"

"History will decide."

A number of youths passed in front of the statues. They seemed not to care, just casting short glances at them.

"They do not seem to be attracted to the statues of the two men of letters," Ayub changed the subject.

"I think they're not new here," Wolfgang said.

"What do you mean?"

"If they were tourists from another region, say the western part of Germany, or another country in Europe, they would certainly look at the statues. They would have studied Goethe and Schiller in school, they would know that in the small town of Weimar these statues of the two literary men were erected. They would certainly have paid attention to them," said Wolfgang.

"They don't belong to ...?"

"The Neo-Nazis, you mean?"

"You said it."

"I don't know."

"But the movement consists mostly of young people."

"You cannot generalize."

"I know. And where do you come from?"

"My parents were from this town. When the communists came to the eastern part of Germany, my parents fled to the west. They settled in Munich and I was born there."

"You're here now. Do you want to settle back here?"

"I have been here a couple of times after the fall of the Berlin wall."

"It is good, there is no border anymore between West and East Germany."

"Like I said, the reunification of the two Germanies has not gone smoothly. Psychologically it has been heavily problematic."

"I understand. You want to live here?" Ayub asked again.

"No. We feel at home in Munich."

"And life there is better than here."

"Weimar can be viewed as a town of culture. That's the attraction." Wolfgang did not respond to Ayub's comment.

"And literary men once lived here, like Goethe and Schiller whose statues are in front of us and the great German painter Lucas Cranach and the sculptor Ernest Rutschel who made the two statues."

"I admire your knowledge."

"It goes that far only, no further."

"Apparently you take an interest in...," Wolfgang did not finish his sentence.

"In culture, do you mean?"

"Yes."

"No. I am a tourist."

"A tourist with a special interest."

"Just superficially."

"By the way, how often have you been here? I mean in Germany."

"This is the first time."

"What cities have you visited?"

"Dresden and Leipzig. In a restaurant in Leipzig I saw some excerpts from Faust painted on the wall. Admirable. Goethe is very respected," said Ayub.

"He was a great man in German literature," Wolfgang said admiringly.

"And in Weimar there is his statue with his friend Schiller. But not far from here there is the former concentration camp of Buchenwald. It is a great pity that the brilliant cultural history of Weimar is tarnished by that black spot," Ayub said.

"That history will not be repeated," Wolfgang said.

Wolfgang did not seem to like to be reminded of the phenomenon of the Neo-Nazis in his country. He said goodbye, showing his indifference. Ayub eyed his departure in consternation.

Not only consternation. There was fear. That feeling made itself master of him. Who knows, another Wolfgang with a different character would surface. Wolfgang had said that history would not repeat itself, but who could stop history?