the ties that bind

It always amazes me the way community is created out of such tiny moments, seemingly insignificant actions. Yesterday during the break from class I sat and drank coffee in the kitchen with 4 generations of women from 4 different countries. Naturally we talked about babies. 

Blanky(Blancarosa) is 65 year old woman, orginally from Peru. Her and her husband have lived here in Germany for many years but her accent is still strong. She wears a lot of eyeliner and touches your shoulder constantly when she speaks. She is taking the free language class because her children are gone, her husband is sick, and she's lonely. Oh, and she wants to practice her german, too. 

Fatima comes from Algeria and wears a headscarf. She is graceful and demure, in her late thirties, and has two children. She seems like the poster child for what a proper muslim wife should be, but if you take her on surface value you will miss so much. She is strong and opinionated, intelligent and well-read. Her children are her life, but she also has a strong sense of self. She wants to be able to go to the doctor alone, to grocery shop and make friends in her neighborhood without the help of her husband who speaks much better german. When we talk about subjugation of women in muslim countries--specifically Iran and Syria--she gets angry. She doesn't understand how men can be so fundamentalist as to not allow their women to go out alone or do anything in mixed company. There are muslims, and then there are muslims she says.

Sena is from Morocco. She is in her early twenties, married, and pregnant with her first child. She wants twins, but maybe not for a long time after this one(a boy). Blanky and Fatima laugh at her; everyone says they don't want more children after the first one but then... Sena and Fatima chat in french and persian when they don't know the right words in german. Their hands move like butterflies.

Johanna is 28 and she's not sure about kids. Her mother keeps asking her about it--if you have a child will you raise it catholic or muslim?--and Johanna doesn't know. Her and her husband don't have much money; they work all the time. Johanna says that one of her friends back in Poland is also 28 and already has 9 children. One a year since she was married and then twins at the end. I look at her and I think, I'm 28, too she says I can't believe it. Nine children! No way. Blankie pats my arm. I tell her I don't think I want marriage or children and she pats my arm some more. Of course, of course she says, You're young. But later?

We talk about birth control and family planning, C-Sections vs. natural birth. How many children is good to have(2-3 is good, 5 is too many). We talk about sex. Despite age, religion and language we are women. Everywhere always it is the same. Johanna's mother doesn't really accept her husband because he is muslim; Blanky's daughter is dating a bum. Sena's husband wants a lot of children(yeah right, she says. He's not the one who has to do the work!) We talk about gender roles, and independence, about sexual violence. When we talk about women who are not allowed by their husbands to take language classes in mixed company, or from a woman who doesn't wear a headscarf(Kopftuch) everyone is irate. Religion is a personal choice says Fatima.

From time to time one or another of the boys from language class walks in to grab a coffee cup. They see the gaggle of women leaning over the small table laughing and quickly leave. I don't know what it is about kitchens and coffee that bring women together. Maybe its just coincidence.

In Germany the difference between sleeping in the same house as someone and having sex is a mere preposition.Using bei or mit changes the entire meaning of your statement. One of the younger boys, Abdullah, comes in crying with a bright red cheek. What's wrong? asks Johanna. Though tears he explains: Abdullah is only 14 and he has a girlfriend. It was her birthday and so he went to her house in the morning, because she was having a sleep over that night. He wanted to ask her father if he could stay. Unfortunately language barriers got in the way. Instead of politely and respectfully asking if he could spend the night along with the other kids, Abdullah walked up to this protective german father and told him point blank that he wanted to have sex with his daughter. Little word, big mistake. We make sympathetic noises and tell him it will be okay. Johanna explains the difference between what he meant and what he actually said. She tells him to go buy some flowers and apologize. After he leaves he kitchen we burst out laughing.