As people might know I have been hiding from my hometown for almost four month now and haven’t been missing it at all but looking at pictures from the 1st of May (worker’s day) my Berlin teenage rebel heart ached quite a bit. This is a weird one since even some people from Berlin don’t understand my fascination with the day that used to start with a demonstration, now a street party and always ends in riots. FUN!
Maybe you need to know that I spend my entire teenage years on demonstrations against the cold war, Germany’s reunion, anti racism, Nolympia, the war in Irak (first time around), you name it to understand what it means to me. It was the early 90s and there was aways something to protest about. Almost every weekend. You went there with your friends instead of hanging out at the mall I guess. I remember an anti Irak war demonstration tha had several hundered thausend people while a normal one would be in the thausends (estimated number of participants always varied widely wether presented by the police or the organziers).
There was a whole ordeal to it, what to wear (heavy shoes, a scarf not too big otherwise it would get confiscated because of the ban on face coverings, a hooded sweater, everything possibly in worn out black) and how to behave (do not call your friends with their real names in case you get seperated, “Idefix” was quite a popular name people would shout to find their friends in the often tumultus circumstances, do NOT bring your bike into the demonstration, link arms with your fellow protesters, do not run in case of a panic etc pp). You could get in serious trouble with the police or the older and cooler protesters (my sister’s husband used to be one of those) if you didn’t obey the rules. The whole point of those demonstration was seeking trouble. I personally never caused any – never threw a stone, raided a supermarket or set a trash can/car on fire (even if I got arrested for a few hours once but that was rather silly) but to the day get a tremendous kick out of staying till the last minute.
In the meanwhile times have changed and people do not really protest or know how to protest anymore and the borrough of Kreuzberg (or Xberg), still the home of aging leftwingers and a big Turkish and Arabic community, is putting a lot of money into a street party called Myfest to keep the a growing number of riot tourists at bay. But they haven’t even once succeded in keeping the party trouble free despite the police introducing a new deescalation plan each year. Word is that the German police force needs the 1st of May celebrations to train the border patrol anyway but that could be a cold war myth.
So imagine a scenario like this: you are sitting in a park that is overcrowded with mostly young people, more and more hipster lately but also familys, dogs, strollers etc. The square is lined with street fair stands selling all kinds of foods and drinks imaginable and handing out leaflets of obscure left political organisations from all over the world – having a beer in the sun with your friends while listening to a most likely awful live band. Suddenly, from far you hear a noise that can only described as “disturbance”. You look up and maybe 300 yards further there is a dusty cloud moving towards you – not unlike a huricane I imagine.
Since I am old-school I get up but do not run unlike most people including the older head scarfed Turkish lady I saw last year who was only a little taller as the fully equiped raw doner kebab skewer she was carrying and seeking shelter for. Next thing you know a group of a hundered armored police men with bats is laying the place in waste you were sitting just a minute ago.
Usually the water canons move in rather quickly and then you really get should get yourself out of the way since I have seen those white street vendor tents turning into a rhombus under their force – the chinese lampion decoration dangling cheerfully.
Now is time to move to a bar in one of the streets where you know the trouble is headding and find yourself preferably a good window seat. For the next four hours you will be perfectly entertained by the bar talk, the cats and mouse game in the street and the poor bar tender who needs to open and close the shutters every ten minutes and the noise the flying stones make when they collide with the just in time shut shutters.
One time, I might have been a little drunk already, I found this a spot behind a palm tree outside a restaurant where I had the perfect view on everything what was going on in the street. After walking through the ongoing trouble back and forth several times to get more beer the police decided to clear the street entierly. I wasn’t too eager to give up my out-look easily, so when the police finaly came I got up but asked “Why can’t I sit here?” The answer came rather quickly “That’s why!” and I got pushed away – in the face. The next day I awoke with two bruises on my cheekbones.
I know it sounds brutal but really I blame myself. If you have been cheering criminal behavior for the last hour and get asked to leave – leave. It is the rules.
The day itself doesn’t really mean anything anymore but for me it is Berlin training for worst case scenario, too. You know, if things go wrong you at least know how you make yourself seen and heard – in case anyone has anything important to say that is… because that’s exactly the part that seems to be missing lately.
The weird thing is I am 100% sure there would be a way to take every last kid that just bought himself a kifaya scarf at the street fair off the streets but they won’t. They let us have it.
I know it’s stupid but I love it. My guilty pleasure.
For atmospheric imagery click here, here (left wing district mayor says he needs to personally witness what’s going on and not to be dependent on the media) and here.
And this has everything: the song by Ton, Steine, Scherben, the place, the mood… must be early morning.
