The man who got away
Berlin will never be quite the same. Not just because of the changes created by the many building workers that swarm over the city. Nor the fact that famous landmarks such as the Berlin Wall and the American controlled East-West crossing point called Checkpoint Charlie are no longer there. No, it's not that kind of change at all. Although I think it is regrettable that some landmarks have gone. Missing is another famous landmark in history. A man who in truth is a landmark in German history and not specifically that of Berlin. However I never could quite get over the feeling that Berlin was a special dream for him. That Berlin was to be shaped into the throne of his dream, or perhaps the crown for the throne he already had. A dream that wished to rebuild a certain recent history, not fitting the seat of a throne, by its removal. A dream that is perhaps now only to be found in the dusty footprints of some of those building workers. In the months following the collapse of that dream the same old changes have continued with no discernable new dream stamping so clearly its mark on the city. I cannot help but wonder if that history had come back, those months ago, to stamp its mark on that personal dream. And did I experience an omen of the shattering of that dream in an occurrence that was itself like a dream?
I recall the day as if it had been yesterday, although it is now some months back. As usual my radio alarm switched on at seven a.m. to the sound of the German newscaster's voice. She was reading out predictions for the coming general (Bundestag) elections. I yawned and got up and wandered to the window to inspect the day. As a creature of habit I regularly observed Berlin life through the rather dirty glass of my flat window, and always first thing in the morning. I am reassured; everything is as it should be. Then no, I see everything is not as it should be. Across the road there is a disturbance to my usual scenery. I am amazed. During the night, or early morning, a very large billboard has been erected on the triangular area of grass which I tended to consider being my front garden. The tips of leaves of a tree, turning yellow, seem to hang with reverence just over the top of this great structure. Not hiding, nor covering, but a vague hint of protection. The billboard has been strategically placed. A busy road with junction, bus stops, and a well used swimming baths next door and lots of people passing.
The billboard in itself was not so interesting but the large blown up election poster glued to it was. A smiling Helmut Kohl standing head and shoulders taller than the many rows of people behind him. All of whom appeared to be men. No doubt, it was a quality poster, perhaps the best money can buy. There was no text and no party emblem. Just a poster photo of a group of men and one man is quite a bit larger than the rest. Head, shoulders and stomach larger. Yet wasn't that the problem, proportion. The proportion was all wrong. The poster looked top heavy. Besides it had been placed on my bit of green.
Was it coincidence, or perhaps intuition, that drew me back to inspect life through my flat window at that particular moment later in the day? My eyes were automatically drawn to the poster. Just at that moment a man in a striped dark blue suit, who I guessed to be somewhere in his thirties, came around from behind the billboard. Almost as though he had stepped down from the back of the poster. I quickly checked the rows of men on the poster photo to see if I could see an empty place, but no, all the men were there. I returned to the man on the ground. Thinning hair revealed a bald patch and he walked a little funnily. Of course the two are not related; at least I don't think they are. He could of have been a computer freak or a stockbroker or something else. With a stroll that might be a stagger he moved to stand by the centre of the poster and stared at it. Then he turned and walked away but before he got very far his head turned back to the poster. Some strange body contortions were now performed. His head and vision were drawn back towards the poster while his body continued walking away from it. After a moment of amusing disagreement of his physique his body lost out. He turned and returned to stand in front of the poster, hands on hips. Nothing happens for the next few minutes. Suddenly his hands are removed from his hips and he grabs hold of the billboard structure and shakes it violently. The whole structure rocks back and forward but it is not to be dislodged from its position and remains firmly erect, head and shoulders tall although the large stomach wobbled a little. Defeated the man turns and staggers away. No, a spark of hope is still there. He turns and stares at the poster. Then he starts running with the flat of both palms held in front of him like the buffers of a train. With the actions of an angry but enfeebled bull he buffets the poster time after time but fails to dislodge it (although he once again gets that large stomach to wobble). The man gives up and sits down on a nearby bench with head held between hands, staring at the ground. Yet once again his eyes are drawn to the poster and rises to shake the structure once again. Charges, sits, shakes, staggers away, returns, beats the poster with clenched fists, but it's all to no avail. The man staggers around the billboard and disappears behind the poster, not to return.
Sometime after midnight: I was in bed and awakened by the sound of heavy pounding, followed by the cheers of what could only have been a large group of men. I fell asleep again.
Next day: looking out of my window I see the billboard structure lying shattered on the grass. All that was to be seen of the poster were fragments here and there. I recognised the eyes of Helmut Kohl peeping over a splintered hole. His shoulders torn in two lay here and there, only that large stomach remained complete. Of the rows of photo poster men there was no sign.
Later on in the day: A group of young children leaving the swimming baths jump up and down on the fragment of the billboard stomach. The torn eyes of Helmut Kohl sadly watch their small feet leap up and down on his stomach spreading mud over the large proportion, all that was left of the poster. The future voters had paid their (political?) respect.
Two days later: I took my usual early morning look out of the window and am again amazed to see that a new billboard has been erected at a discreet distance from the debris of the Helmut Kohl (CDU) poster. This new one displays a woman talking to a young boy. Their attention is fully concentrated towards each other, ignoring the shattered remains lying nearby. I remember yawning; it had not been a very exciting poster. However it remained unscathed to proudly declare the red and white emblem of the opposition, the social-democratic party (SPD). Yet, I wondered as I stared at the woman with child, where was the man?
Information: Helmut Kohl with the well proportioned stomach was leader of the German rightwing party the CDU and at the time he was Germanys Chancellor. The SPD is Germany’s leftwing party. Although Helmut Kohl lost this election seven years ago (This story written was written then) and he is no longer leader of the CDU or Germany I cannot help feel that the story is still relevant and fits the German September Election of 2005. It is just necessary to change the main Election Poster characters, but who should be who? Take the choice from Mrs Merkel (rightwing CDU) or Mr Schroeder (leftwing SPD)?
I recall the day as if it had been yesterday, although it is now some months back. As usual my radio alarm switched on at seven a.m. to the sound of the German newscaster's voice. She was reading out predictions for the coming general (Bundestag) elections. I yawned and got up and wandered to the window to inspect the day. As a creature of habit I regularly observed Berlin life through the rather dirty glass of my flat window, and always first thing in the morning. I am reassured; everything is as it should be. Then no, I see everything is not as it should be. Across the road there is a disturbance to my usual scenery. I am amazed. During the night, or early morning, a very large billboard has been erected on the triangular area of grass which I tended to consider being my front garden. The tips of leaves of a tree, turning yellow, seem to hang with reverence just over the top of this great structure. Not hiding, nor covering, but a vague hint of protection. The billboard has been strategically placed. A busy road with junction, bus stops, and a well used swimming baths next door and lots of people passing.
The billboard in itself was not so interesting but the large blown up election poster glued to it was. A smiling Helmut Kohl standing head and shoulders taller than the many rows of people behind him. All of whom appeared to be men. No doubt, it was a quality poster, perhaps the best money can buy. There was no text and no party emblem. Just a poster photo of a group of men and one man is quite a bit larger than the rest. Head, shoulders and stomach larger. Yet wasn't that the problem, proportion. The proportion was all wrong. The poster looked top heavy. Besides it had been placed on my bit of green.
Was it coincidence, or perhaps intuition, that drew me back to inspect life through my flat window at that particular moment later in the day? My eyes were automatically drawn to the poster. Just at that moment a man in a striped dark blue suit, who I guessed to be somewhere in his thirties, came around from behind the billboard. Almost as though he had stepped down from the back of the poster. I quickly checked the rows of men on the poster photo to see if I could see an empty place, but no, all the men were there. I returned to the man on the ground. Thinning hair revealed a bald patch and he walked a little funnily. Of course the two are not related; at least I don't think they are. He could of have been a computer freak or a stockbroker or something else. With a stroll that might be a stagger he moved to stand by the centre of the poster and stared at it. Then he turned and walked away but before he got very far his head turned back to the poster. Some strange body contortions were now performed. His head and vision were drawn back towards the poster while his body continued walking away from it. After a moment of amusing disagreement of his physique his body lost out. He turned and returned to stand in front of the poster, hands on hips. Nothing happens for the next few minutes. Suddenly his hands are removed from his hips and he grabs hold of the billboard structure and shakes it violently. The whole structure rocks back and forward but it is not to be dislodged from its position and remains firmly erect, head and shoulders tall although the large stomach wobbled a little. Defeated the man turns and staggers away. No, a spark of hope is still there. He turns and stares at the poster. Then he starts running with the flat of both palms held in front of him like the buffers of a train. With the actions of an angry but enfeebled bull he buffets the poster time after time but fails to dislodge it (although he once again gets that large stomach to wobble). The man gives up and sits down on a nearby bench with head held between hands, staring at the ground. Yet once again his eyes are drawn to the poster and rises to shake the structure once again. Charges, sits, shakes, staggers away, returns, beats the poster with clenched fists, but it's all to no avail. The man staggers around the billboard and disappears behind the poster, not to return.
Sometime after midnight: I was in bed and awakened by the sound of heavy pounding, followed by the cheers of what could only have been a large group of men. I fell asleep again.
Next day: looking out of my window I see the billboard structure lying shattered on the grass. All that was to be seen of the poster were fragments here and there. I recognised the eyes of Helmut Kohl peeping over a splintered hole. His shoulders torn in two lay here and there, only that large stomach remained complete. Of the rows of photo poster men there was no sign.
Later on in the day: A group of young children leaving the swimming baths jump up and down on the fragment of the billboard stomach. The torn eyes of Helmut Kohl sadly watch their small feet leap up and down on his stomach spreading mud over the large proportion, all that was left of the poster. The future voters had paid their (political?) respect.
Two days later: I took my usual early morning look out of the window and am again amazed to see that a new billboard has been erected at a discreet distance from the debris of the Helmut Kohl (CDU) poster. This new one displays a woman talking to a young boy. Their attention is fully concentrated towards each other, ignoring the shattered remains lying nearby. I remember yawning; it had not been a very exciting poster. However it remained unscathed to proudly declare the red and white emblem of the opposition, the social-democratic party (SPD). Yet, I wondered as I stared at the woman with child, where was the man?
Information: Helmut Kohl with the well proportioned stomach was leader of the German rightwing party the CDU and at the time he was Germanys Chancellor. The SPD is Germany’s leftwing party. Although Helmut Kohl lost this election seven years ago (This story written was written then) and he is no longer leader of the CDU or Germany I cannot help feel that the story is still relevant and fits the German September Election of 2005. It is just necessary to change the main Election Poster characters, but who should be who? Take the choice from Mrs Merkel (rightwing CDU) or Mr Schroeder (leftwing SPD)?
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