Refugee in search of a homeland

18 and a half years old, and in 1947 food was still in short supply everywhere.

But for the time being I was a 'mulus', the Latin word for mule, meaning neither horse nor donkey, or in my situation, neither a school student nor a university student, and I was going to enjoy this status of freedom. No more exam pressure Ñ oh what bliss! I felt free like a bird! There was time now to do the things I had wanted to do.

Unfortunately, Thea had found another boy friend. The time of my sickness and the exams was too long for her. So, no romance for me. I persuaded Annemarie Kleinschmidt from our reading circle to come for an extended hike in the Harz mountains with me and a girl friend of hers joined us. We caught the train to Schierke, the terminus of the train line. With our packs on our backs we set out to climb the Brocken, the highest mountain of the Harz, 1140 m above sea level. As this was still inside the Russian zone, we could go there but had to be careful not to cross the border inadvertently. It was not very well marked, but we would not have minded, having a peep at west Germany. The borders in those days were only sporadically guarded, and it was not such a challenge as it would become a little later on.

The weather was perfect. We had taken plenty of food and drinks for the day. The fir trees of the Harz Mountains stretched over large areas, occasionally interspersed by deciduous trees. These already had a hint of the coming autumn tint. An absolutely magnificent scenery. We never saw another tourist for the whole day. Soon we started to sing old German folk songs. One of these, "Das wandern ist des Müllers Lust", recalls the old German tradition of young tradesmen and craftsmen Ñ in this case the miller Ñ to go out into the world and to learn in the 'school of the world'. How appropriate for me, I thought. "World, here I come! This is for me!" Having been under severe pressure and strain for such a long time, I suddenly felt that those shackles deep inside me had been removed. I experienced a sense of freedom never known before. Wanderlust, adventure. High up on the mountain, the lowlands of Germany all around me, with a view almost to infinity, there could be no border for me, anywhere. Borders are man-made. God had made the whole world for us to enjoy, not to put up barriers and to destroy each other at will.

This mountain top experience high up on the Brocken implanted itself deeply in my soul. The world of freedom and adventure had beckoned me. I walked down, back to the station, as if on air. I was happy and inspired.

My days in Emersleben came rapidly to an end. This was the first time that I would voluntarily leave my parents and step out into the world as an adult, being responsible for myself.

But wise as my parents were, they must have known that to be responsible for oneself did not have to mean that I should be all on my own. I would be near Onkel Werner and Tante Margret, and should I be

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