Two years when I heard of the bankruptcy of an American bank. Everybody talked about it, and months later the old story happened again and again all around Europe. Capitalism and its domino effect. The world economy started to suffer. I started to see every morning on Euro News incredible things that I had never seen before. The long queues of unemployed lawyers and doctors applying for ridiculous jobs. I even heard that some relatives of mine who had struggled for so long a time to go to Spain went back to Morocco.
There was nothing more to be done. The one and only exit that had dreams for us was tumbling down, and we just looked and thought, that can not be again the same story repeating itself. Things will change, people said. It is just a summer rain. Some people found back a new job, but the professionals of the business were afraid, and they seemed to be putting more and more money into the furnace of bankrupted countries. The lovely Greece was hit hard. I could hear Herodotus writing a new book of history if he could, this time about a financial crisis. A capitalist country seemed to become a paper tiger, a palace built with cards. An anti-Greece feeling started to invade Europe, and sure there was a feeling of xenophobia too. Thank god! No new Hilters showed up as yet. One seemed to raise up his ugly head, but it ripened like a full blooming grape, plucked in time. I heard a new Haider was coming again somewhere in those crevices of the Alps, but he had better hold back. The times were not ripe. There is the British National Party in the United Kingdom, but nobody seems to believe them. They are warmongers, and history could only repeat itself.
I live in Germany, and I thought I was immune to the financial cuts of a new plan. I was wrong. Only a few days ago, Angela Merkel proposed a plan, only a few days before the World Cup. Nice move, Angie! The “Sparpaket” would absolutely affect mostly the people who are socially looked after. The state assistance for the families would be cut, and many more… Here five percent, there ten till 2014.
“Do you think they would keep their promise after 2014,” said my friend who came to pay me a visit. Like me, he had not worked yet, and his capital to this country were the three children his wife had borne him. What he got for his children amounted to a salary.
As we walked down the Wermingser Strait, I replied,” I do not think so. The bad years of this country were to be counted since the fall of the first brick of that Wall…” I meant The Berlin Wall when my friend looked around for the wall I was talking about. I cut him short; I had no patience to explain. ” That Wall kept a tyranny away, and threatened the benevolence of Capitalism. Do you think that all the good times had come like that? ” I snapped one finger against the other.” Every big banker feared for his money, so he gave as much as he could to appease the anger of the workers, and make them look over the Wall. `There,’ he would say, `live the murderers of democracy, and you hear! You live the great time of your lives…`”
Strange how the Soviet Union who fought for the rights of the workers could only shrink behind the Iron Curtain to decompose, and not to speak truly of a revolution. We lived at the expense of those held hostages. They were the currency of our dreams that came true, I thought. “Those times were over, my friend. Nobody knew that the Wall of Berlin was one of the pillars on which a communist ego leaned. We were jubilant to unite East and West to eat our bile in anger for the bleak times were coming.”
My disclosure was blunt, short and simple. It was worse for my friend, worse than an operation that awaited him a few days later, the removal of piles.