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Cultural Migration in Autobiography Grundtvig Partnerships 2009-2011

This project has been funded with support from the European Commission. This publication reflects the views only of the author, and the Commission cannot be held responsible for any use which may be made of the information contained therein.

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43

Maria and Josef, a Christmas story Helga Klein

It was before Christmas the twenty-second of December 1985, very cold, a thin layer of fresh snow covered the dark brown of dust and filth and misery. We emigrated from Romania to Germany. We treated ourselves to a sleeping-car on the train to Budapest in order to have some peace and quiet. The final days before our departure were intense, exhausting, sleep-less. Everything had to be out of the flat, you weren´t allowed to have any possessions before leaving. The piano created a great deal of howling. Little Ralph, didn´t want to give it up. In the afternoon of departure his bed was taken, the one with the colorful wooden bars and the toys and the boy-doll “Nötzi”. Lastly, we brought Ralphs wooden sled to a neighbor´s boy.

Tak tak … tak tak the train rolled slowly on. All our friends and some relatives were left behind at the practically unlit train station in Schäß-burg. We traveled, full of courage and confidence to a new world. Now we could be able to sleep, we were alone in the compartment, a small family on a journey into a better future. Ralph crept on all fours over the berth, as nimble as a weasel, and asked about everything. Suddenly, there was darkness. Probably a tunnel, my husband said and Ralph`s comment: “Ceausescu took the light”. We immediately said, “Ssssh”, someone might hear and that would be dangerous. Tak tak … tak tak the baby was scarcely asleep at my breast when the compartment door was thrown open - customs inspection - light, blindingly bright. They looked around and took both our fur jackets off the hooks, saying it wasn´t within our rights to have them. They had to be in the packing crates and declared along with our household…

Tak tak … tak tak, the train went onward. It slowly got darker after a sunless day and a journey through driving snow. What has stuck in my memory are the litup Christmas trees in front of many houses, the radiant churches, everything so Christmas-like bright. I was blinded. I´d only known pictures like that from German Christmas cards. We came from total darkness. Under socialism, everything was conserved. All this light now was unbelievable, wonderful! I just couldn´t get enough of it! For me, Christmas had begun.