An Ossi heads West

I was nine when the wall came down. I was living with my family, close to the inner German border. We weren't among those who left immediately for the West. Due to many intimidating personal experiences in the nearby restricted zone, my parents were cautious, and sceptical that the East German government would actually keep the border open and let us back in.

We followed events on television for several weeks before finally joining the queues on the motorway and driving to the nearest town in Bavaria. It was a strange feeling to cross through the old border controls and actually see the fully stocked supermarkets on the other side.

It wasn't until another 10 years later that I swapped Jena as my place of study for Essen and moved to the West. By then, the typical "East-West" mentality didn't exist any more for me personally. Of course, I was aware of many differences but resisted such a black-and-white way of thinking. Even at that point in time, most of my university friends had never set foot in the former East.

At university I remained the token "Ossi"

In contrast to the university in Jena, where students came from all over Germany, the majority of students in Essen were from the area and lived at home - as was the case in many cities in the Ruhr valley. That meant that in my seminar group, I remained the token "Ossi".

There were many evenings where I had to regale my friends with tales of my childhood in the GDR and my experiences in the East German state-run youth organisations – the Communist Pioneers. They found my stories about the 10 commandments for Pioneers or secretly watching the forbidden West television shows, amusing and fascinating in part, but also unimaginable.

There were also several students from abroad living in my university halls of residence. Among them, a very interesting English boy, for whom I was always "the girl from East Germany" – I'm still not sure he remembered my proper name!

Now, 10 years further down the line, I still live in Dortmund, deep in Western Germany. And even today, there are many occasions where I find myself talking to friends from the East and the West about everyday things that are "typical East German" or "typical West German" – and it is mostly with a raised smile.

But for me, there will always be something more important than amusing differences in behaviour: That people should never forget what the GDR was really like and that – apart from some things that really weren't that bad – the fact remains that it was an unjust regime.


Author: Franziska Wahl / ai
Editor: Helen Seeney