Immigration issues; being an outsider in your own country.

To ponder this weekend: cultural assimilation, making judgements, seeing people for who they really are, not who you think...

Questions: Who is really a German? Who is an American? Who is Muslim? Who is Catholic? How can you tell? How do you guess what language someone will speak? How much of this is based on appearance? How many snap judgments do we make every day without even thinking about how wrong they might be?

From NYT article: With Film, Afghan-German Is a Foreigner at Home

By MICHAEL SLACKMAN

Published: October 17, 2010

Burhan Qurbani has realized that his audience sees him as an Afghan immigrant who made a movie about Islam, not as a talented German filmmaker.

He suddenly realizes that he is a foreigner at home, and that his audience sees him as an Afghan immigrant who made a movie about Islam, not as a talented German filmmaker who chose to explore issues common to all mankind.

"Of course, I am German," Mr. Qurbani said. "I have Afghani roots, I can't deny that, but mostly, I am German."

Mr. Qurbani's personal narrative should be a tale of immigrant success. His parents fled the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and settled in Germany. His father was an electrician, but his parents divorced, so his mother raised two boys with the help of public assistance. He received a first-rate education and had the chance to pursue his dream of becoming a filmmaker.

*****

"It is tragic what is happening here," said Hatice Akyün, a writer and lifelong German resident of Turkish descent who, like Mr. Qurbani, must confront the frustrating daily exclamation from other Germans who never seem to tire of telling them, "You speak German so well."

"I'm tired of explaining," Ms. Akyün said. After living here for 40 years, she said, she is so distraught by what is happening that she is considering moving to Istanbul. "The only country I consider home," she said, "is Germany. But it is getting worse and worse."

*****

"My grandfather told me and my brother, 'You are like a bird without legs; You cannot land,' " he recalled. "You will never be at home here and you will never be at home in Afghanistan."

It was not until the film came out that he realized how right his grandfather was. "I'm not the filmmaker who worked with brilliant actors and a talented cinematographer; I'm the Afghani," he said, again dragging on a cigarette.

*****

Like much of Europe, Germany is gripped by anger and mistrust between ethnic nationals and immigrants, especially, but not exclusively, Muslims. The debate in Germany, long simmering beneath the surface, broke into the open with a recent book that condemned Muslim immigrants for "dumbing down" society and accusing them of coming to Germany only because it is a generous welfare state. The book warned Germans they were losing their country.

Ms. Merkel stoked the growing debate over the weekend when she told a meeting of young members of her conservative Christian Democratic Union that Germany's attempts to build a multicultural society had "utterly failed." While immigrants are welcome in Germany, Ms. Merkel said, they must learn the language and accept the country's cultural norms.

A survey released last week by the Friedrich Ebert Foundation reported 58.4 percent of the 2,411 people polled thought that Germany's approximately four million Muslims should have their religious practices "significantly curbed."

These are scary and sad close-minded thoughts.


I hope for the world to be different, yet recognise that it's not. I've seen this in Germany, so I know it's true. It's nothing unique to Germany- it's worldwide, nationwide. If we're to become a multicultural, loving world (and individual societies), I think the only way is through honest open dialogue and self-questioning.


We must change mindsets, the treatment of individuals and groups of people. We must start with ourselves.

Open seats, closed minds

Today I flew to Serbia.

One of the delights of the day was a free International Herald Tribune (a much shortened NYT).

In the editorial section was a short piece entitled, The Seat Not Taken. About an American black intellectual who rides the train daily from NYC to Rhode Island, and how the seat next to him is always left open, which can only probably be distilled down to his race.

I found it timely, in that I'd just noticed the same thing on the train here in Germany, watching my fellow travelers. It's not just an American affliction.

I really wonder when (if ever) race will stop being such an issue?

A Christchurch morning

Yesterday morning, I awoke to watch the sunrise as is my tradition on my last day of a trip. With my camera in hand, I wandered over the to Christchurch Art Museum and through the old site of Canterbury University, which is now the home of the Arts Center, a complex of shops (mostly), cafes (several) and theatres (one movie, one stage). For a while, I sat on a curb and watched the birds and the people walking to work, before heading into the city center for a coffee and newspaper.

I whiled away an hour and then some and decided I would try to find the store that I'd seen a ring at two nights before. It was in an alleyway full of restaurants and shops- like many cities have now- the sort of hidden enclave of activity behind the scene.

I wandered into one area and was looking for my ring shop, but couldn't find it when I was approached by a man working who said, "Are you a lost tourist?"

"I'm trying to find a shop I was a few nights ago."

"There's another back alley like this just off Manchester." He pointed.

"Oh. Ok."

"Where are you from?"

"The U.S., North Dakota, but I'm living in Auckland right now for a year."

"Christchurch's better." He said.

"Yah, it's a lot more peaceful."

"Auckland's nice if you want to go to Hong Kong. They come over and fill up their pockets and then go home with it."

Speechless, I muttered, "Uhhh," and walked away in the opposite direction that he'd pointed.

Funny thing is, that was the second time in less than three days that someone had said that to me. Just two nights before, my bus driver home went into detail about how she didn't like the Maoris or the Asians and gave me all her reasons, filling up the space of the thirty minute busride with her monologue.

I usually don't say anything, just remain silent. I think that they might think that I agree with them, so continue on with their diatribe. I don't know what to think.

I found the shop with the ring that I'd seen the other night. It was half price, a small silver ring with a square shell inset - the shell is white with a red section that looks like an abstract heart. The storeowner was there and told me the ring was from Mexico. I have a rule to buy things from the artist who made it only, but I've made an exception in this case.

When I look at the ring, it reminds me to act with love in my heart. That it was made in Mexico reminds me of the U.S.'s connection to our brothers and sisters from the south.

I spent the flight home last night in a silent meditation, wondering if my students have been subject to this racism. (How could they not have been?) I dream of a world where it doesn't matter where you are from or what color you are, a world where we treat each other with love in our hearts.