I’m young again, 12 or 13 years old, and we stand there, this paper in our hands, with our signatures and maybe some more. Someone speaks. S. or the other S. Can’t remember all the details. We want Jo* and her family not to be sent “home”. To a country that she literally throws up every morning, every evening, before it eats up herself. Her Croatian self eating her German self.
I don’t why but in the end it worked. They got permission to stay. I googled Jo* somewhen last year. She now works for H+M in Berlin, in a senoir position, giving interviews about her new self, not the mixed-dragon/ghost she was made by the authorities about 20 years ago.
I remember and I’m young again. Or maybe I feel old. I ask myself why we need to make these decisions again. Why we put people into categories. Why people who speak German, who have permission to work, to go to school, who are integrated are suddenly worth less than people fleeing their country and coming to Germany now. Why we make decisions about other people’s lives.
And maybe not the decisions that are made by the authorities make me feel old. Maybe it’s because my mind suddenly works into these categories as well. And I put people on lists as well myself without any doubt.
Anyway, I’m asking myself again what we can do to stop this deportation. It was Jo* from Croatia, now it’s A. S. from G*.