Just as so often, she reminded me of my health. She had stopped smoking since her cancer story. Since she had gained weight since then, she guessed that this came from the many medicines she was taking, especially the cortisone. On the other hand, I said that this could also be due to large quantities saccharin, the sugar substitute, with which she sweetened her food and drinks.
I knew that sweeteners stimulated your appetite. You always feel like you have to eat something. Some farmers even used sweeteners for hog fattening farms. So it was not for losing weight. I then promised that I would quit smoking one day, when she would lose weight. What was that once again?
"Insha'Allah" - if God wills.
Perhaps God would help me one day in this.
The day of departure was getting closer and closer. The most important things to be done were the bank, the pension office and deregistration.
Finally, Düsseldorf Airport, departure hall. Renate was provided with a wheelchair with a person to accompany her. Most likely, the travel agency wanted to be sure that Renate came into the plane safe and sound.
When I ordered the tickets and had also informed the nice lady in the travel agency that Renate was very weak due to her illness, she had probably decided to have a wheelchair added. I could tell the companion that she was not needed and she disappeared.
Could people make out that we were spending the last few minutes in Germany and were emigrating?
I doubted that!
A woman in a wheelchair, a small dog in a carrier bag and an old man who was desperately trying to smoke a cigarette somewhere.
No big luggage, no friends or relatives, who were organizing a big show. No TV people with "The Emigrants" - just two passengers with a little dog.
In the last few months, I had been following a show on the TV on emigrants. Not that I was very interested in it, because I had already emigrated 30 years ago. I was interested to know if they also showed how the people fared after the failure, that is, after an unsuccessful emigration, the re-immigration, so to speak!
I had the feeling that nobody had the necessary experience yet. Whether they had to go through a repatriation as per the Russian concept? My advice: Keep the German deregistration papers from the Resident Registration Office.
Or, if at any time there had been a German shepherd as a family member, keep the dog license by all means! That would be proof enough that you had connections with Germany!
I did not find any cigarettes and we had to get into the plane. So I felt tortured for four hours on the plane and in the waiting-rooms - almost seven hours without smoking! Though no one had said goodbye to us in Germany, Claude and Lisa welcomed us in Tenerife.
We lived with them for a while, until we moved into a house directly near the sea. I did not know that my friends’ house was a smoke-free zone. Since I saw them last, both had become non-smokers and they did not support me in the procurement of cigarettes. But they did not mind when I smoked. There were no outdoor cigarette automats, so there was no opportunity to extract them. Since I had not smoked for almost thirty-six hours, I tested how long I could stand it without cigarettes.
Victory over a pig dog - smoking
I would like to mention in advance: I had smoked my last cigarette in Düsseldorf at the airport and that applies to this day! That is, I am a non-smoker, and that too without any compulsion. Ever since then, I believe in miracles, but only in small ones!
I noticed quite quickly that the Canary Islands also were not the paradise.
The biggest hurdle was that neither Renate nor I spoke Spanish.
It did not help that I spoke Arabic, Turkish, Greek, Urdu or English. No one wanted to listen to my German. You may be able to get by in Tenerife with English or German. But we had to communicate with authorities. First we needed a Social Security number from the Ministerio de Trabajo y Asuntos Sociales. Next was a Certificate de Registro de Ciudadano de la Union, the registration at the Immigration Office. You got a number there, the so-called N.I.E.- number. Without this, nothing was possible. This was followed by the Documento Acreditativo del Derecho a la Asistencia Sanitaria. This guaranteed that the pension was paid as a pensioner from Germany, so thus the health insurance company in Germany was charged. Then you got the Tarjeta Sanitaria, the health insurance card for the doctor. You also had to go to the Ministerio del Interior, the department of the Directorate General de la Policia y de la Guardia Civil, which was the registration by the police.
And if you had a rental agreement, then you went to the Ayuntamiento to get a Certificado de Empadronamiento, a registration in the municipality. But this paper was valid only for six months. For example, if papers were required to register a car, it was not permitted to be older than six months, otherwise you had to apply for a new one. I believe, the driving license and the car registration came in addition as well. If you had an older car, you had to drive to get the TÜV certificate every year too.
Till then I had thought that Germany was a bureaucratic state. Now I had to change my opinion. But these hurdles had not kept us from staying back in Tenerife. Renate's mother had already visited us in Sinai and Cairo, so she came here and we showed her the beautiful island. Renate's mother had lived alone in Munich since the death of her husband, that is Renate's father.
She decided to give up her apartment in Munich and stay with us in Tenerife. A forwarding company dispatched her furniture.
We looked for a larger apartment and lived together. Renate was happy, her mother was happy and I was pleased too. This was because we had a small double-doored miniature car, a Fiesta. But since mother was receiving a good pension and she wanted to have a bigger car, she bought well-preserved Mercedes 300, with its six-cylinder and enough PS, to drive to Teide or to other places. This vehicle was a 25-year old lady.
I do not know whether Renate and her mother or I had more joy with the car. We made trips at least twice a week.
I managed to drive 230 km during the day, without having to on a street twice. It was already the limit. But I needed a complete time of twelve hours - I enjoyed this. I had a task.
We moved once again. It had been simply too loud for us in the apartment because the dogs belonging to the neighbor lady, who was not at home the whole day. The neighbor lady herself, who came back home at night after work or when she left home very early in the morning, was very noisy. She was a hotel staff, working in shifts. We were ready for the mountains.
We found a Finca for rent. So we moved to the place located at a height of nine hundred and fifty meters.
It had a magnificent view of the mountains, the neighboring island and the Atlantic. Once again, we were all very happy and enjoyed the silence. Apart from a farmer with his wife, who were however not "noisemakers", but nice neighbors, there was heavenly peace.
We got our eggs and vegetables from the farmers. Although our property had enough arable land, I had no desire to work as a farmer myself. When I saw what a battering the farmer and his wife received, I resolved not to become a farmer. But I trimmed and maintained the one hundred vines. I also took care of the almond, pear, peach and plum trees.
Also there was a cave, into which I retreated during the summer months. We had homemade jam, a wine grower fetched the grapes and brought me the wine. Our acquaintances, whom we invited to the barbecue, admired the huge stonewalled barbecue, on which there was enough space for a whole pig. Also we gave them a bottle of canned fruit or homemade marmalade to take with them, when they left for home.
We did very well, thanks to Renate’s mother. Renate and I would not have been able to afford so much on our own, since our total pension money would not have made that possible. We enjoyed every day.
When it rained during the autumn storms with its heavy downpours of rain in the Finca did not bother us but we got accustomed to it, since we knew that the sun was not long in coming. The fog during the winter months were not very pleasant either. We did not see the mountains or the sea. This was the time that reminded us of
Germany. This was the time when you had to use the heaters and play “Mensch ärgere nicht”.
Mother won most of the time. And if not, we let her win. Otherwise she would have been sad, which we did not want. I had a better relationship to Renate’s mother than Renate, at least I thought so. Most probably I wanted to do something good, because I had failed so badly with my mother. Besides, I did not forget that we had a pleasant life because of her.
A few days before her eighty-third birthday, she died and we cremated her. The urn was given a special place!
Her sudden departure was very painful for us!
In the evening Renate's mother had been complaining of stomach pain; next morning we fetched a doctor, who immediately ordered an ambulance and got her admitted in a clinic. Already on the way, the medics made efforts with her but they could not achieve much. After that, the doctors tried to resuscitate her for four hours, but they did not succeed. Mother lost the fight with the Grim Reaper. To this day, the cause of her death is a mystery. According to the hospital report, it was heart failure, a natural death.
If the Grim Reaper came, this is what happened with Mother went, it was a dignified demise. Without illness and happy and satisfied till the last day. It was a special pleasure or even joy to think how many beautiful hours, days, months or even years we were able to give her here on this beautiful island.
But Renate and I started to have times, which were somewhat simpler. Simply in terms of our lifestyle. We moved to a smaller apartment, which did not cost so much. Also I had to get rid of the Mercedes-Benz 300. With our little pension we could live well, but we had to do without excessive luxury.
Our Finca landlady also had a vacant two bedroom-apartment halfway between San Isidro and Granadilla.
.Memories on the Roof Terrace
There was a small, typical Canarian Tapas Bar on the ground floor - nice for me.
The terrace was ideal for BBQ and lovely sunrises. The sunset with a beer or cocktail seemed to be more likely on the cards for me. So, we liked the apartment and we moved in. We live here to this day.
It is so nice to site on the roof terrace and to think about life, no, not any life, but about my life. I will be seventy years old in five months. I always thought that I would not even reach retirement age.
I have to thank God that I am still in good health and actually can belong to the club of old people. Only when I think about it, what I have actually done in this world, I realize that I have not done anything stunning.
Although I have fifteen fully-stamped passports, I feel as though I have not seen anything in this world.
Had my existence in this world been in vain? But as the saying goes: A man has in his life plant a tree, beget a son and build a house. I had done all these things, but with limitations.
The tree in the Sinai had died, the house was auctioned and I lost my son through my own fault. So I had zero on this account.
I know that he is with his mother and his new father here on the Canary Islands.
The man who is also an emigrant, has a craft business on another island. I can look at the other island in clear weather from our roof terrace and often I think of how nice it would be, if I could go there and say "hello".
But I do not wish to open wounds, for that could be painful. It hurts me too but my wound is already very scarred over.
What have I neglected?
What have I neglected with my daughters, or rather, with my daughter?
How little had I cared for my parents?
Had I not committed certain offenses with my smuggling?
I could not give the excuse that people in Germany die more from food poisoning than due to illegal drugs, more people die of food poisoning than on illegal drugs, that is over 2000. I cannot think of anything else bad.
Had I also done something good in my life?
And did it matter in the society?
I had married a prostitute and had tried to give her a better life. A child had been saved from having a hellish life in her home country. I had given poor people money and food in India and other countries. I
I had fought for higher wages for my local colleagues in Egypt, which they also had received. I had invited people to my table or had canceled debts for people who didn’t have anything to eat in different countries, while working as a pub owner.
I had driven some people without money by bus from India to Germany. I had made many women happy ... Stop!
I have to hold myself back a bit on that, since I have certainly made some among them unhappy later by leaving them or by failing to show up.
But on the other hand, what did women do to me? I am stopping here with the list since you can miscalculate life by not adding things or with plus and minus. The time is coming and a day of reckoning was imminent. I hope that would take time in coming! This is because according to my Sadhu, the holy man from India, I am going to get rich directly or indirectly through a woman before I bite the dust.
Well, not get stinking rich, but instead get as old as the hills! Just what does an Indian Sadhu consider as rich? What does he consider as old? I will let myself be surprised by my fate.
This has nothing to do with luck. More with destiny, with karma. I would have really like to have known what others thought of me, but no one told me anything. The only person who says that she knows me is my older daughter. I have documents with which I can prove what was her mother did or did not do as well. At some point I will send her these things. Or not send them. Perhaps it is better that she thinks that her mother was a good woman and still is, since I do not know if she is still alive.
I can live being blamed that I am worse. I had other things to do. I have so many questions but I do not know of any that she could or would answer me.
In my life I had very many ups and downs, I could not fulfill some of my wishes, and many still remain unfulfilled.
And one has to hold on to these unfulfilled wishes. We must believe that they would still be fulfilled. They are the power and the engine for perseverance. Even an Indian Sadhu can do nothing to change that.
I can dream of times past here on the island, on the roof terrace of the house.
Epilogue
My current employment now is of not doing anything.
I would like have liked to pass on my knowledge in the hotel and gastronomy industry to someone. Very often, I found restaurants or hotels in a state, in which a little professional help could have done good.
People were probably afraid that I would ask for a fee, although I only wished to get rid of my boredom. So I have a lot of time to watch television and for watching for long periods of time, we of course have a satellite system.
There are many things that are discussed in Germany, but this often does not help. There is the problem that you call immigration.
I have to think of Australia, where I was clearly told that a citizen who had immigrated, whether with Australian passport or whether still had his old passport, irrespective of whether it was a Chinese, Indian, European or whether it was someone from dark-blue Africa, whoever lived in Australia, was quite officially an Australian!
Even if an event such as football or similar sport took place, in which all these people from different nations participated, all these “multi-cultured” people with their different origins cheered when a goal was shot by an Australian.
Not it was by the opponent, even when that was his original home country.
They were Australians and showed it too.
You can even watch a game between the countries Germany -Turkey. And then you can decide who a Turk is and who a German is.
At the first ball into the German goal, you can see how many are integrated and how many feel that they are Germans. How many "New Germans” indeed hold a German flag in their hands? This has nothing to do with religion as an excuse. There are German Muslims, there are also Turkish or Arab or Egyptian Muslims in Germany. They should live as how you live in Germany, exercise their religion in t
heir places of worship and not on the street, in other words, they should adapt themselves.
And if a Muslim live in Europe, he should behave like a European just as Christians must adapt themselves in a Muslim country!
A different of a different religion should not change his religion of course.
Christianity does not demand this but the Muslims still demand this. I have a lot of Europeans that had to become Muslims because they wished to marry a Muslim woman, otherwise there would have been no wedding. The poor men also had to be circumcised at their age, through which the wedding night could not really be celebrated.
The circumcision was done too late and there were no came too late and there were also no bed sheets to be exhibited. I have so often heard this saying, which goes like this: If you don't like it, you can go back home of course. Nobody is holding you here!
To this day, I have a T-Shirt with the saying: Love it or leave it.
There is such a lot of wind and bluster regarding the headscarf, are these the main problems? I can still remember the times, when women always wore headscarves in villages in Germany. This is not a too long ago.
But nobody should walk around like an Egyptian mummy. A woman should show her face proudly. It is also not prohibited for the Sikhs to wear their turbans, although it is a religious symbol. Not too long ago, the women did not have a choice, even in our country. Are we really such petty bourgeois and do not want to see the real problems?
Do we get agitated only about trivialities?
You have to note which century the Islamic calendar shows. Well, I see so many things that are worse, which have to be changed. I have two daughters, who do not have pure German roots. One is even purebred Ceylonese girl. But even from day one, they were Germans, although their mother does not have a German passport to this day.
It would have never occurred to me that they were foreigners, only because they have a darker skin. Also their mother had seen them always as German girls, even though she always said that she herself was a Ceylonese woman and would always remain so.
My Dream to Be Free Page 56