To this day the 9th of November gives me goose bumps. I will never forget that date, or the circumstances that led up to it, or the experiences I encountered in my early life.
I grew up in Thuringia, a German state that was behind the Wall. I was 16 the year the Wall came down, and nothing was more wanted than that event.

My dad tried to find a better future for my family and tried to escape to Austria via Hungary. That was in March 1989. He was caught and ended up as political prisoner in the East German system. Just a few months later, most of my friends went on a “vacation” to Hungary and never returned. They were able to just walk across the border amongst welcoming arms. In the time in between we experienced house searches, telephone tapping (we were one of a few people that had telephone), spying on our mail and on us. We were followed wherever we went. I had to finish 10th grade with schoolmates being told my Dad was a traitor and a criminal.

The 9th of November, I was sitting in my room in our house in East Germany reading, listening to the “Hit Parade” on my favorite radio station, HR3 from Frankfurt. Yes, we were able to listen to news from the free world. It wasn’t allowed, but they couldn’t block radio waves. Just before 8 p.m., the moderator said that East Germany just opened its borders and we should stay tuned for the 8 p.m. news.

I thought it was just another sick joke, as bunches were going around during those days. But when I heard the live report from the Berlin Wall I started to cry my eyes out. Mostly happy tears, but there also were a lot of frightened, terrified tears as I started to think we might be the last ones left to “turn off the light.” After the first set of friends left to the West via Hungary, the next set left via the embassy in Prague, there weren’t many people in our already small circle of friends left. We couldn’t join them, as my dad wasn’t with us.

When I told my mother about the news, she had visitors that moment and didn’t listen to any news; she couldn’t believe it until she saw it on the TV. The emotions we had were mixed and rapid and so intense that we stayed up for a long time that night. My sister was already in bed getting enough sleep to get ready for school the next day. As we were already being watched, we didn’t want to immediately rush to the car and try to drive over the border. That concept sounded as strange to us as the phrase “beam me up.”

We waited ‘till the 10th when my sister returned from school. We got into our Lada and drove towards the border. I don’t remember how long we waited to cross over. The lines were incredibly long, but we were in ecstasy and the wait didn’t matter. We were curious, anxious and scared at the same time. We drove through East German territory that we weren’t able to see before. No-man’s-land was vast, and the name itself still leaves a taste of bitterness. The joy once we were “on the other side” and the warm and intense welcomes are still indescribable.

We heard propaganda on the radio that every GDR citizen who got a stamp on their photo in their ID (everybody supposedly did) won’t be able to return home. The rollercoaster of emotions went absolutely crazy. After a short walk through Eschwege and ogling over kiwis, we returned to the border. We actually asked the humble and ridiculous question to an officer of the East German customs office if we may please return again. Our stomachs turned at those words, but we had to, needed to, must return for my dad’s sake. He smiled (never saw anyone in uniform smile before) and just waved us through.

I remember long nights after that event in which my mom left the light on for my dad; we received no news from the officials about his return into our lives. We received phone calls from his buddies that got out. The news of his possible release [shifted] from day to day; the tumult within was unbearable. My mother still has heart problems, and her blood pressure will never be stable again. November 20 was the day we were all reunited again, and from then on our lives became better. We didn’t have to wait in line again for bananas once a year, for mandarins, for grapes. We didn’t have to stand in line at the bakery at 1 p.m. when they opened at 3 p.m. to ensure we get fresh bread. We didn’t have to live under the eyes of the people in that village I grew up anymore, as we now just packed up and left. We were finally able to determine our own future.

We moved to a city near Karlsruhe, and from there, I took off in 1991 for a year as an au pair in the US. That was a dream come true I never dared to dream before. I was able to learn proper English, not just words, such as working class and solidarity, etc. I experienced the land of the free first-hand. The ability to just be who you want to be and say what you want to say is something that many people take for granted, not knowing how many people in this world, still to this day, have to fight for those simple rights.

From Janet Ullrich-Theriot
Lafayette, Louisiana

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