Morning and the sun is shining again, although everything outside – grass, trees, cars, is covered in whiter than white ice. Time for coffee, than Ann and I are going on a country-lane walk – what that really meant, was that Brigitte wanted me out of the house, so amongst other things, she could do my washing, knowing full well, I’d never allow her to do that, she is so very kind and a lot of fun. The German breakfast , is naturally, very European – breads, cheeses, butter, jams and great coffee, I discover I’m happily forgoing my daily Weetbix (habit of a lifetime) and my body-clock has completely adapted to the German time zone - much to Ann’s annoyance, I’m back to my early morning waking and getting up, but it works out well, in terms of checking emails from home and writing. Ann’s not convinced.
We go walking across the property, the farm is tenanted, so Brigitte doesn’t have to worry about it day to day and just maintains the house as her soon-to-be permanent retirement home. It’s all very picture-postcard pretty, with horses and quaint, but purposeful barns, tall winter-bare trees and small fenced paddocks. It’s very different from the Australian countryside, not just in terms of the vegetation and building styles, but also the sheer constant volume of traffic on nearby main roads and even country lanes, inside the house, double glazing keeps any traffic noise to a barely audible hum, but outside, you’re aware of it.
We come across an oak tree, with a roughly hewn stone monument underneath, Ann tells me the tree was planted to commemorate the end of the wars with France, in 1871, it’s easy to forget that the relationship between France and Germany has long been fractious, with aggression and distrust on both sides.
A little further along the lane, we come across a small memorial, with three inscribes memorial stones, it’s a stark reminder of past history, basically the WW1 Memorial is incredibly similar to any in Oz or NZ, the place names, such as the Somme etc, are all exactly the same, the dead soldiers are referred to as heroes. However the WW11 Memorial is different, the dead soldiers are referred to as victims. I find myself once again grappling with the enormous shadow the Nazi era casts over the German psyche. I’m one of those who has often though that while we should never forget the lessons of the past, we should move on. My own nature, is that if I make an error in dealing with another person, I find a way to say I’m sorry and try to repair the damage, but I don’t go on eternally berating myself, if the other party can’t forgive, or doesn’t want to, I simply will not go on beating myself to death about it, although of course, one continues to regret hurting anybody. But this is so deep, it’s almost as though the German people are afraid of the ‘Beast Within.’ Somehow, I want to tell the Germans it’s over, stop, we’re all mates, let’s have a bloody drink and laugh. Besides, we are facing a terrible enemy of freedom – the religious extremists utilising the Muslim faith.
We’re not alone in Australia, with the Bondi Riot reaction to the perceived threat of Muslim extremism, all over Europe, communities are becoming more and more right wing, with skinhead, Nazi thugs in England, Germany and even Sweden, while in Egypt, a badly flawed democratic (hmm?) dictatorship is collapsing. It certainly makes the sexploits of the grubby Italian Prime Minister, suddenly seem preferable – how good would it be if all we had to worry about was a distasteful old millionaire who can’t keep his dick in his pants!
I ponder for a while on the way we humans constantly argue, both within and without our tribes. I’m swinging more and more to the belief that Wikileaks has an as yet to be appreciated vital role in bringing truth and openness to our world, whether it’s the bullshit of politicians, or large companies, although so far, Wikileaks is only dealing blows to democratic institutions, it’s about time the really corrupt dictatorships were given the same unrelenting spotlight, the USA is not the Great Satan.
The words of John Lennon’s wonderful song flood my mind:
Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...
Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one
We walk on and the ghosts fade, to be replaced by a purposeful gnome striding along a garden wall with his barrow and round the next corner, a film crew working in a picturesque farm yard, with actors and props.
That afternoon, Brigitte drives us to the monument I had to see Herman the German. Around the same size as the Statue of Liberty, he stands astride an old mountain top, sword held high and his foot squashing a dying eagle (symbol of the Roman Empire). Herman’s name was Arminius and he is regarded as an almost mythical Founding Father of Germany.
2,000 years ago, around the birth of Jesus Christ, the Roman Emperor Augustus decide to conquer / add Germany to the Roman empire, thought to be an easy task, as the natives were disparate tribes fighting amongst themselves. Arminius is credited with organising the tribes into a force that beat three of the best legions of the Roman Empire – the defeated General was forced to commit suicide when he returned in disgrace to Rome. Arminius had been educated in Rome and had served with the Roman Army – he knew their methodology.
Although the event is absolutely factual, around the time of Martin Luther and the Reformation, the symbolism of Arminius grew, however his Latin name was not acceptable and so he became Hermann. The concept and growing mythology became nationally important during the 19th century, as Germany fought the dictator Napoleon and the French army. By the end of the Napoleonic wars (1871), German pride and determination not to be ruled / invaded again, had reached its zenith. Joseph Ernst von Bandel then proposed the Hermann Monument and spent the next several years overseeing the construction of the project, with Kaiser Wilhelm officially opening the monument in 1875. The monument actually faces towards France, as a then-important message to the French to bugger off! The proud von Bandel passed away 12 months later.
Out of interest, the outfit Hermann (yes, the double n is correct, I just call him Herman the German, for a reason I’ll explain later), wears is not historically correct, it reflects the romanticism of the 19th century and the monument was damaged by bombing during the second world war. In fact it’s fascinating to walk around the park and find statues to the German Chancellor of the time, Bismarck, a name etched on me as a young boy, with the stories (and song) about the WW11 German battle ship, it all becomes real, in a strange way. But most of all, I feel a marvellous affinity with Herman, my proud Scottish Highlander ancestry has always loved the fact that the Highlanders beat the hell out of Caesar’s troops (from memory two legions disappeared never to be seen again. The English might have beaten us with guns, but back when men were men!
As for my naming him Herman the German, there’s a wonderful twist of fate here – way back when, circa 1975, I arrived in Kalgoorlie – well, discharged from hospital after a hell of an accident, as a passenger way out on the Nullarbor – and applied to Brambles for a job as a road train driver. The boss, Andre Geddes, looked at me and said, “I’ll send you down to Anaconda Nickel mine for a week with Herman the German, if he thinks you’re any good, you’ve got a job, if not, you haven’t.” Herman the German was a bloody good bloke, knew more than I’ll ever know about roadtrains, was a great teacher and a lot of fun. I kept the job. I believe that Herman is living happily in retirement down at Esperance. The twist? When we got back to Brigitte’s there was an email from the lovely Keely at Chandler Macleod, I’m going driving road trains for Brambles (these days BIS) at Christmas Creek, when I return, there’s that circle of life again.
