The woman climbs the few steps up and mounts the viewing platform. She pauses a moment to breathe. She turns her body back toward the car—the tan Mercedes. It still sits there at the curb, maybe fifty meters away. She had instructed her driver to leave as soon as she got out of the car, and to drive out of sight and not to return for fifteen minutes. She frowns. But as she watches, her driver eases the car forward and then makes a sweeping 180 degree left turn to go back the way they came. He accelerates and drives off, as instructed.
When he is out of sight, she turns again and walks to the rail. She looks out into the hazy distance seeing Brandenburg, East Germany, and the Wall in the foreground.
The Wall is about fifty meters to her front. In this part of Lichtenrade, the Wall runs north and south, so at twelve o'clock on a clock, sighting directly to her front, that would be approximately due east.
Back before the Wall, this road, Grossziethener Strasse, made its way from the Berlin district of Lichtenrade out to the village of Großziethen.
The Driver's perspective
I wait for einen moment after the Hanım ("lady" in Turkish) exits my car. I watch her attend to the steps and the viewing sahanlık (platform). I want to be O of certain she is to be safe in stepping. My engine it is still idling.
In the car, I saw her eyes. They were like kafada iki delik! (two holes in the head!). I could not even see color. It was some frightening, but I make like wie gewohnt ("business as usual" in German)! And her clutch of flowers—is it for a death here? I see no crosses. Strange, so very strange.
The Hanım turns and frowns at me. I gulp.
So I drive away. I do as she say. Bana yüz mark ödüyor! (She is paying me a hundred marks!)
It is more than money I make in a week somes tines for sures!
I will take my sweet love Yildiz for mükemmel akşam yemeği (most excellent dinner) O of certain tonight! I will to have Manti and Inegol kofte!
The Woman's perspective
Großziethen. I stare at it in the hazy distance. Though the day is warm, I wear a tan jacket and wide tan felt hat for the sun. My black and silver hair is in one long braid in back. I have on a purple cotton summer dress with silvery tiny spots that look like stars against the dark night field of the purple when viewed up close.
That young East German boy, of twenty-two years, whom Anja awaits: he is not worthy of her. He lives with his family in that village yonder. Of course he would take the most direct route to the Wall! He is too lazy to find the best place, as he tells her he will do in his letters! He dropped out of school early. He works, sometimes, on the family farm. He is not in university as he tells her! Or maybe I am wrong. But I am never wrong. I have the stars to tell, to guide.
Anja is too smart for that one! She will see this too late. But he plays a role... a key role in this. And maybe my opinion of him is wrong. But I am never wrong. I have stars. He has only dreams of perhaps one star in his sky. But it is enough... enough to play his part.
I survey the Wall in my front. There is a copse of trees to the left. Certainly there is an East German guard tower hidden from my view by these trees, on the East side of the Wall—set to kill any from the East who would choose to escape, in their watched sector, to come over here to the West.
Down south there is plainly visible another tower. I see the glint of light off the fernglas (binoculars) of at least one guard who watches me now. I do not shiver. They are weak compared to me.
I scan the full length of this side of the Wall. There are no crosses that I can see. One for each failed attempt from the East follow the full perimeter of the Wall around West Berlin and number in their scores.
There is no cross here yet. Whether a cross results from this, for him, I do not wish to consider. Either way, he serves his function to my call—for her—the gifted one.
A momentous event will be trialed here. This viewing platform will be witness and any who stand on it. The platforms are built all along the Wall for reflection of the West on the East. We of the West can see what we have behind us in plenty, yet remind ourselves of the severe lack, even of freedom, to our front. The dark of the East and the dazzle of the West.
But here, in this place, is where a very big risk to me lies.
Now I turn to the northwest. Short kilometers away in Dahlem district is the American Army Berlin Brigade headquarters in Clay compound. "Clay" for some American General of note. My Army girl, she of nineteen years, works there as a Corporal, and Anja works there too, she of twenty. They all mistakenly call this compound the Air Ministry. It was a branch, but not the main. No matter. Right now, this day, this time, Anja is crying. My Army girl will meet her there... now! This will set it all into motion. All my dream to be fulfilled!
But the future risk is here. I look again at the exposed platform, the thin rail, the guard tower with its ready teeth of anger poised to gnash and bite!
I look back to be sure the car is still away. I check that the reflected fernglas glints are absent. I take the peonies that have been clasped in my left hand, close my eyes, and wave them around to suffuse the place with bravery, honor, good fortune. I open my eyes and place them in the little holder in the corner of the railing. It is no matter that they will be long gone when those ones may arrive, probably winter time... but could be any time—after their meeting, which is today. The charm will protect all who visit here.
As will the tourmaline. I take the black crystal from my inner jacket pocket and kiss it. I need to hide it. I do not want a visitor to find it—take it.
I look around. I step down one step and toss it in through an opening so to place it under the platform, in the weeds. It will be safe as long as the platform is not moved! Oh yes.
There may be a cross here one day, but there will not, by my faith in the stars, faith in the tourmaline, be any harm to them, and especially to my Army girl. The tourmaline will bring and hold grounded energy in this place, and so providing a deep energetic security to those here.
But not over there I think, as I look back across the Wall. It will not bring safety to any over there.
I turn my body and look to the southwest. Far away, perhaps eight hundred kilometers, near my home, mein Schützling Geliebte (my protégé loved one) works at this moment, in an office, writing in her craft. She. It is she who carries in her the seed of my future... to continue and grow all I have done... all I am. She, there in Offenburg. She knows it not. She is at current just one of my protected ones. This is all she knows.
Finally, I turn my face toward Belgium, shade my eyes against the glare, think of my nephew there, working at his noble occupation, grieving for the so recent loss of his mother. The stars hint he may play a part in this too, in one year's time... or less. I do not know his part... not yet. That future is still dim to me.
Time is almost up. My car is not returned yet. I continue to reflect: I need my Army girl with her— mein Schützling Geliebte. But some things will have to simply laufen ihren Kurs (run their course)—free of my wiles!
I consider the young East German boy once more. I could intervene, go East, meet with his family, get him committed!
But Nein, then mein Schützling Geliebte would not be needed by that woman who is her friend. And my dear one would not meet my Army girl. I need so much in this. For New York... Ja (Yes). But all for Her—that gifted one to be. For Her.
If Anja were shot here? My Army girl would no longer be conflicted. They would be bonded in compassion, or grief.
If my Army girl were shot? Well... where are they now? Anja crying. My Army girl to meet her... now! I leave it to the stars. I leave it to the prismed light of these.
I look up to the sky. I close my eyes. I open them... I see: butterflies swarm here all around me! Ach was für eine Freude! (Oh what a joy!). This is a good omen.
"Das ist sehr sehr gut (This is very very good)!" I say aloud.
YOU ARE READING
The Wall Crossers
Non-FictionStep into the captivating world of "The Wall Crossers," a spellbinding tale set against the backdrop of Cold War-era West Berlin in 1971 and 1972 to the latter half of the 21st century, from Berlin to Bhutan. This narrative weaves together the lives...
