A.D. Donggo, One Day in Weimar

first published in A.D. Donggo, Antara Masa Lalu dan Tali Leher, Jakarta: Kompas, 2005, pp. 101-113.

For almost half an hour, in front of the National Theater, Ayub stood absorbed, admiring the statues of Goethe and Schiller. He was a foreigner in the small city of Weimar in eastern Germany.

He couldn’t fully understand why he stood, as if nailed to the ground, looking at the two great German writers before him. Was it because he had read Goethe and Schiller in translations or was it because of the power of the statues by Ernest Rutschel? Goethe and Schiller were two inseparable friends.

Or maybe it was because of something else. Germans truly valued their writers. In this small city of Weimar, there was not only these statues, but the houses in which they lived have also been maintained as museums for Goethe and Schiller. Ayub had visited both museums and had been impressed. All of their possessions had been preserved: their books, chairs, desks, beds and artefacts. Again, he was amazed: Germans valued their writers.

Ayub had arrived in Weimar yesterday afternoon. A friend had encouraged him to visit this city. He said that Weimar was the centre of classical German literature and the two main figures were Goethe and Schiller. Goethe had been given the nickname, “The Wiseman of Weimar”.

His friend had also reminded him that close to that small city was the Buchenwald concentration camp. This was another site of incomparable cruelty in the history of humankind’s suffering. Thousands of Jews had perished in giant ovens. It was an unparalleled contradiction: on the one hand, Weimar was considered to be the home of the development of German literature (and maybe also German culture), but on the other, barbarism was enforced as the marker of a new civilisation. His friend’s suggestion had to be considered.

He thought for a long time about what his friend told him. But, for a moment it was as if he didn’t care. He was a tourist and tourists don’t need to think about serious matters. Tourism is about being happy. It doesn’t need to be connected with serious matters. Tourism is only concerned with fleeting impressions. A tourist is not interested in whether or not Weimar, as the center of classical German literature was also once the home of a concentration camp. But in the end, he went there. He went there this morning with several other tourists. The building where the mass murders took place had been kept in good condition. It was part of the history of the German people – “a race considered to be superior, but also a nation that was able to be incomparably cruel.” Ayub was taken aback when he heard the guide say this. He wasn’t sure whether that statement came from his conscience as a German, or as a human being who calls an act of cruelty as he sees it. Was there any excuse that could justify such a crime? And he realised that the cruelty was not committed by the Germans as a people, but by a belief that Jews are parasites and must be wiped from the face of the earth. They were considered to be circumcised heathens. And it was civilised people who insulted them.

Ayub was still looking at the statues of Goethe and Schiller. A breeze swept across his body. Even though it was summer in Europe and that he was wearing a jacket, he still felt cold. Clouds covered the sun. He wasn’t sure if it would rain. He couldn’t read the signs of the weather in a foreign land.

Now he thought about what would have happened if the mass slaughter of Jews had occurred in the time of those two great writers. Would they support or condemn it? How would the Wiseman of Weimar react? It was an unanswerable question. But he felt an urge to turn back the wheels of time – from the 1940s to the 1700s, when Goethe and Schiller had started to live in Weimar, and the cruelty of the concentration camp is played out before their eyes: they witness how husbands are separated from wives, lovers from lovers, and children from parents. Those two writers witness how bodies that are still breathing are thrown into giant furnaces.

Maybe they would protest because burning people alive is barbaric. An act which stains civilisation and humanity. Maybe they would say it stains the superiority of the Germanic race. But they would have to realise that they were facing a power. Power is power. It destroys anything that gets in its way. Power never cares whether it faces someone who is wise, a priest, an ulama: whoever threatens the extension of its power must be suppressed. The face of power is always totalitarian. Whether its actions are brutal or subtle is only a matter of degrees.

Ayub was startled. His daydreaming had taken him all over the place. He had now, though, been surprised by someone greeting him. That person had come from behind him. He turned around quickly. The thought came to him that the person was going to beat him up. Hadn’t several events like this occurred recently? Feelings of racial pride and superiority had emerged once more, just as in the 1930s and 40s. Once more foreigners had been targeted – some had even been killed. Perhaps violence against foreigners wouldn’t be able to be restrained in the future. Who would be able to stop history from repeating itself? Only, maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as what Jews experienced.

He prepared himself for what was about to happen. Would he be punched in the face? Maybe. The man was so strong and tall. He was a giant with an evil face and wild eyes. He would not be able to resist the giant. With one twist his neck would snap.

He continued to wait and his heart continued to shrink. The man hadn’t acted – he only kept staring fiercely at him. At the same time, he suddenly started to regret having come to Germany when the newspapers had already reported about the race riots. Maybe the riots weren’t only to do with race, but other causes had yet to be uncovered.

“Are you from the Middle East?”, said the man without beating around the bush. And that question only made him more afraid. Wasn’t the Middle East identified as being the home of Jews, Arabs and Turks – even though Turkey itself was close to eastern Europe? People from Turkey had been the main victims of those who didn’t like foreigners.

“What do you mean?” Ayub asked back, acting naively.

“I asked if you are from the Middle East. Don’t you understand?” The tone of his voice indicated that he was annoyed.

“Why do you think I am from the Middle East?”

“Because of your appearance.”

He did indeed look like someone from that region. His nose was rather large, his skin was clean, he had curly hair and his eyes were like those of a small antelope.

“If I am not from the Middle East, what do you want from me?” he said, challenging him.

“Nothing. I just wanted a chat.’ His voice had changed. It was calm.

“But your manner…”

“Made you worried?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

Now the man shook his hand while stating his name: Wolfgang. He didn’t give his family name. Ayub himself didn’t ask him to say it.

Although he was surprised at the dramatic change in the man’s attitude, he too put out his hand stated his name.

“I’m not from the Middle East. I am not an Arab. I’m not Jewish or Turkish.” He emphasised the word “Turkish”, so that Wolfgang would believe him. He didn’t want to be identified with those who were causing the re-emergence of anti-foreigner feelings amongst young Germans who seemingly wanted to recreate Germany’s painful past.

“I’m sorry”, Wolfgang repeated. “These incidents are making the tourists feel unsafe.”

“Including me”, admitted Ayub. “When you started talking to me like that earlier, I thought you were going to beat me up. I thought you were someone who doesn’t like foreigners.”

“No, I’m not like that. Germany’s past is too painful to be repeated.”

“But these young people who are re-creating an exaggerated importance of being German, they want to repeat that history.”

“It’s impossible,” said Wolfgang.

“You don’t agree with what has been going on, do you?”

“It is not a matter of agreeing or disagreeing. There is another problem which is yet to be fully understood. For example, the re-unification of Germany is not going smoothly. The main differences between east and west Germany, particularly in their economic conditions, will not be overcome quickly. And, this is the result of – or, it is the time bomb left behind by the two powers which controlled Germany after the second world war. Whatever the case, they don’t want our people to become a new power. They don’t want us to become the new superpower – after the fall of the fall of the Soviet Union.” It was as if he was thinking out loud.

“What do you mean” Ayub probed.

“Even though we lost the war, in a short time we’ve once again become a respected nation. In particular West Germany.”

“Just like Japan.”

“It’s a historical reality.”

“I understand. And now Germany is united.”

“But it’s not going smoothly.”

“Japan was more fortunate because it was not split in two.”

“True.”

“Now they’ve become an economic power. Maybe in the future they’ll also have a strong military.”

“If we weren’t split in two…” He seemed reluctant to think about Ayub’s comment.

“By two totally different ideologies.”

“That’s right. And it is impossible for an ideology that has been inculcated for fifty years to disappear just like that. It takes a long time.”

“And now, during that process, new symptoms have emerged. According to the news reports, there are now groups of neo-Nazis. What’s your opinion?” asked Ayub.

“I don’t know.”

“Does their movement have many supporters?”

“It would be better if we didn’t walk about this problem.”

“Or maybe there are some people who don’t want Germany to become a new superpower, as you said earlier, and so they incite some people to start riots and target foreigners. Isn’t that one of the signs of the emergence of fascism?” Ayub probed him some more.

“I am not convinced fascism will re-emerge. That movement will be suppressed. But, that Germany will become a new superpower – history will decide.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why not?”

“But another power will prevent it from happening. They won’t want history to be repeated.”

“Of course not as a fascist power.”

“What do you mean?”

“Germany will rise up as a superior nation.”

“But the U.S. is number one at the moment.”

“Yes – at the moment. At another time, another nation will be number one.”

“Even Germany?”

“I didn’t say.”

“So?”

“History will decide.”

Several young people walked past the statues of Goethe and Schiller. They didn’t seem to care. They briefly looked at them and then kept walking.

“They don’t seem to be interested in the statues of the two writers,” Ayub changed the topic of conversation.

“I don’t think they are new around here.”

“What do you mean?”

“If they were tourists, say from western Germany or from another European country they would definitely be interested in the statues. They would have studied Goethe and Schiller and would know that in this small city of Weimar there are these statues of them. Of course they would be interested in them.”

“And are not…?”

“Neo-Nazis?”

“I didn’t say it.”

“I don’t know.”

“But most of them are young.”

“You can’t make such generalizations.”

“I understand. And, you yourself, where do you come from?”

“My parents are from here. But when the communists controlled east Germany, they fled to west Germany. I was born in Munich and we still live there.”

“And now you are here. Do you want to live here for good?”

“I’ve been here several times since the Berlin wall collapsed.”

“Things are better now that there is no wall between east and west Germany?”

“As I said earlier, the reunification of Germany is not going smoothly. It’s quite a psychological burden.”

“I understand. But would you like to live here?” Ayub repeated his question.

“No. We are happy in Munich.”

“Life is much better than it is here?”

“Weimar is a cultural city. That’s what I like about it”, Wolfgang didn’t respond to Ayub’s question.

“And great writers like Goethe and Schiller have lived here. As well as the great painter, Lukas Cranouch and the sculptor, Ernest Rutschel, who made the statues of Goethe and Schiller.”

“Your knowledge is impressive.”

“That’s all I know.”

“It seems you are interested in…” Wolfgang didn’t finish his sentence.

“In the arts?”

“Yes.”

“No. I’m a tourist.”

“A tourist with a special interest.”

“Not really.”

“So, how many times have you been to Germany?”

“This is my first time.”

“Which cities have you been to?”

“Dresden and Leipzig. At a restaurant in Leipzig I saw some paintings of scenes from Faust. Goethe is truly respected.”

“He is the greatest German writer.”

“And in Weimar there is a statue of him with his friend Schiller. And not far from there is the Buchenwald concentration camp. It is really terrible that the city of Weimar is stained by the black history of Buchenwald.”

“History won’t be repeated.”

“But what if circumstances decide something else?”

“No. History won’t be repeated.”

Wolfgang didn’t seem happy to talk about the re-emergence of neo-Nazism in his country. He left without saying goodbye. Stunned, Ayub watched him leave.

But that’s not all. Suddenly Ayub was filled with fear. Who knows, a different Wolfgang, with a different character would suddenly appear. Wolfgang said history will not be repeated. But who is able to stop history?

Translated by Andy Fuller, 12.10.06, Richmond, Australia.