Hagen/Westfalen 1960 (Image: Hans Wehner) |
They put on their coats and left the
house. It was a cold winter morning, just above freezing, but there was no
frost or snow on the pavement. The family walked through the quiet Sunday
morning streets of the city: The girl, her mother, her father and her little
brother. The mood was sombre, but she wasn't surprised by this as she knew
where they were going, as they had done many times before.
They arrived at the wrought iron
gates of the municipal cemetery and
walked past many graves with old and new gravestones. The girl looked at the
writing on the headstones, but she had only just started reading and writing in
school and couldn't decipher most of what was written. She also noticed some
graves that were covered in lots of flowers and wreaths.
"They are the new graves", her mother told her. "Someone died and was buried here yesterday or the day before."
Soon after, they arrived at their
destination, a small grave among other small graves. As always, her mother and
father went very quiet and tears started rolling down her mother's face. She
took the girl's hand and squeezed it before asking her and her brother to fold
their hands and pray for their older brother whose grave they had come to
visit.
Her mother had told the girl that her
older brother had died when he was only a few weeks old. Choked up by tears,
she had once shown her some pictures of her baby brother in his crib. The girl
always felt very sad when they came to the cemetery as she pictured her little
brother lying motionless in his grave.
Then the girl's mother removed some
weeds from the grave and fetched some water from the freestanding tap with one
of the old zinc watering cans belonging to the cemetery. After watering the
flowers on her sibling's grave, they quietly said some more prayers before
returning home.
The blank Canvas
The girl enjoyed school. She was
about to turn seven and was in her first year in primary school. As opposed to
her kindergarten, the school
she attended was non-denominational which meant that the school was attended by
Protestant as well as Catholic children in the early 1960s.
Her teacher, Fräulein Thiemann, was a
Catholic and would occasionally talk about religious matters in class. One
morning, she told the children that she wanted them to paint a picture. The
girl got excited, drawing and painting were some of her favourite activities
and she spent many a rainy afternoon painting pictures for her mother with
watercolours, crayons and coloured pencils.
The teacher then turned to the class
and asked them to do a drawing of a cemetery. The girl stiffened - a cemetery?
But why paint a picture of a cemetery? She sat and stared at her drawing pad
without putting pen to paper. The girl knew that she was supposed to follow her
teacher's instructions, but she just couldn't bring herself to draw a picture
of a graveyard.
Fräulein Thiemann did the rounds
and looked at the children's progress. When she stopped at the girl's desk and
saw the empty canvas, the asked:
"And why aren't you drawing a picture of a cemetery?"The girl blushed as the whole class looked up from their drawings and stared at her."I don't want to paint a picture of a cemetery"."And why not?" her teacher asked her."Because it makes me sad", the girl said and refused to do as she was told.
The next day, the girl's parents
received a letter asking them to come to the school and speak to the teacher.
When they did, Fräulein Thiemann told her parents what had happened and
inquired if they were atheists. Her parents
explained about the regular family visits to the cemetery and the matter wasn't
mentioned again.
But her teacher treated the girl
differently from that day onwards - realising perhaps that she was dealing with
a child who had a - possibly rebellious - mind of her own.
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