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Accetto Chudi

A flag of Israel

by Matteo F.M. Sommaruga

Quite regularly the jewish community offers to the inhabitants of the city cultural initiatives, aimed to give to the gentiles a positive perception of its own presence. They are always enjoyable, mostly organized by gentle ladies who could have been depicted by an Agatha Christie's movie. Sometimes are lectures, mostly about a prominent jewish author who has written about Munich or worked for a while in the area. Others are concerts, mostly klezmer music, also including the top performers from NYC and the States. I particularly love to collect the gadgets, distributed on the stands put on in Odeonsplatz. 
That location, in the very heart of Munich, is particularly well chosen due to the proximity both to museums and shops. Also the University is not really far, reachable on foot within ten minutes. A tourist, a student, a posh and young girl looking for a fashionable accessory should necessary pass by. Even Adolf Hitler spent more than an afternoon in the area, painting en plein air a watercolour of the square. It has astonishingly not changed a lot. Despite the war so sternly wanted by the painter. 
I have also found the stands quite perchance, a thursday afternoon, coming back from work earlier than usual and marauding around the town. Just exploring. I was also looking for a good chat, feeling alone as usual. Anybody distributing leaflets and promoting a good cause would have attracted my attention. Already a big fan of jewish culture, I approached a table depicting the beauty of Israeli landscapes. They were giving palmtree seeds for free and I was starting to conceive to experiment a little gardening in my own apartment. 
Others were raising funds for the most tragic memory, of those who lost their lives by the hand of the national socialists. I paid much more attention than time to the subject. I couldn't stand the idea of those deeds. Especially by recognizing myself among the chosen victims. Individuals who wanted to follow their own existence outside the frames of a dominating standardized culture. I felt on my skins the violence of the squads. As much as the contemptuous fleer of socialist intellectuals when debating about not conforming political opinions.
The latter would hardly resolve to recur to physical tortures. It is not their style. They prefer a subtler, and perhaps even more effective, psychological war. Making their victims feeling guilty for their own thoughts. If they don't obtain any success, they start to depict their enemies as the most pernicious human beings. Those unfortunate churls would eventually find themselves isolated and their unaligned thought totally armless. 
A guitar and an accordion were diffusing klezmer music. At another table some attractive young ladies were giving a demo of a solar charger for laptops and mobile phones. I followed a part of the show curious of the so sophisticated ars oratoria of the girls, and changed my direction towards some much older ladies providing biscuits, a cup of tea and small paper Israeli flags. 
I picked up two, as well as a couple of cookies. The banners are filling so well a gap in my kitchen, the blue star of David looks like a rare and beautiful flower. I am proud of my independence.

social social social print

On the other side of Berlin Wall

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