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Unter dem Titel "Du erzähltest mir" erschien das Buch bei Tredition GmbH 2021. Die Übersetzung des Buches ins Englische "A journey through your life" und ins Französische "tu me racontais" erfolgte während der letzten 3 Jahre.
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Seitenzahl: 149
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Anna Verena Hoffmann Sax
A journey through your life
© 2024 Anna Verena Hoffmann Sax
Cover, illustration: watercolour by the author.
Editing and translation: Alexandra Fielding, Athen/Patras
Printing and distribution on behalf of the author:
tredition GmbH, Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg,
Germany
ISBN
Hardcover
978-3-384-23957-0
E-book
978-3-384-23958-7
This work including its parts is protected by copyright. Responsibility for the content lies with the author. Any utilisation is not permitted without the author's consent. Publication and distribution are on behalf of the author, to be contacted at: tredition GmbH, Department "Imprint Service", Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg, Germany.
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Part 1
Part 3
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Part 1
A long winter night. Rain was falling in the beginning. Towards morning, it turned into snow. It covered the gardens, transforming them into that winter magic that silence brings. In the early hours of the morning, Laurent was born. Everything was normal, his weight, his size, his soft skin, his first cries were welcome too. Most welcome of all to the ears of his mother and father. A small family begins their life together and gets used to their new reality with Laurent. His mother is a tall, nice-looking young woman and even though a few sunless weeks of winter had passed; one could still see that her skin is accustomed to a lot of sun. Her hair is fashionably cut probably pinned up after the postpartum period, as fashion dictates and is advantageous towards her profession.
Hedi runs a hairdressing salon with her brother Ernst in the corner house on Neugasse. A good location. The customers are from the neighborhood. It's a lively place. There are a lot of small stores. Bakeries, butchers, craft stores, small businesses trying to survive the difficult times of the Second World War. Neighborly help is welcome, and every now and then they are visited by relatives from the countryside. They bring potatoes, salads, fruit, and when there is a farmers’ feast, sausages, or meat. The food rations are hardly enough. They are happy to receive any hint of where to find sweets or anything special.
In the winter of 1940, Hedi and Theodor make an application to the municipal offices for a permit to have an allotment garden. A small piece of land is to be cultivated. Hedi tries it out in the spring, while working at the hairdresser ‘s. She pushes, as often as she can, the stroller up the hill to the allotment, where she plants and weeds. Watering is a necessary chore. There's not much time, and gardening is not Hedi's strong point either. Carrots and onions are thriving to some extent. However, the potatoes are infested with the Colorado beetles, they should be peeled off.
Theodor is on active duty. Europe is ablaze. Switzerland is on the alert. The war is raging. Reports of victory from Germany and war lies are spread. Many Swiss are divided in their opinions. Doubts are high. Can the resistance be built up and maintained, mentally and in terms of resources? Theodor took the Swiss citizenship before the war. He went into the recruitment school and completed the course to be a motor driver. Engines, vehicles, but especially motorcycles had appealed to him. During his service, he comes home regularly, like all the other soldiers do. The joy at Laurent's growing up is great. Hedi and Theodor are happy. The world is at war, but true happiness is found where you can get it, in the present.
Hedi and Theodor are considering moving, although their apartment on Röschibachstrasse is big enough. The house belongs to a foundation. The administrator grants advantages, as he likes Hedi. He is taken by her delicate manner and her well-groomed appearance. And yet, the decision is made. They leave the apartment and rent a place very close to Hedi's mother, where the hair salon is also nearby. Now, the grandmother will take care of Laurent while Hedi is at work. The apartment is suitable and convenient, everything in close proximity, including the river and the leafy trees on the sides of the riverbank.
Hedi doesn't like the allotment. She just doesn't have green fingers. Theodor hardly finds time to help her and Hedi prefers working in the hair salon more. This work suits her. She is talented and a real people-person. Women like having their hair done and are always up for a chat.
The same goes with the young woman who says that it is the second time this morning that she has visited a hair salon: The first time she went to a hair salon very close to her fiancé’s parents' home, because she didn’t know her way around the city. The hairdresser welcomed her and immediately called out to her husband, "Put hot water on, we have a customer." That was the moment that it struck her; she had probably chosen the wrong salon. The result, after having spent two hours in the salon, was atrocious. All her hair was stuck in a royal mess, though, she decided to give it another go – at Hedi’s salon. So, a long-lasting customer loyalty began.
The hair salon is booming. Hedi's brother, Ernst, is responsible for the men's part and Hedi for the ladies’. Both sectors have a good clientele, even during wartime. Hedi can work while Laurent is mostly left with his grandmother. Laurent is happy there. His grandmother is a kind-hearted woman who keeps the lively boy under her wing. His grandfather is good to him, although his jokes are not always suitable for a young boy.
During the war, gas masks were in every household. As a joke, the grandfather puts one on and hides behind a door. When he jumped out, Laurent was frightened and screamed. He did not recognize his grandfather under it. An unpleasant experience that cannot be forgotten, probably by both sides. The grandfather hugged Laurent and wiped away his tears. Laurent blew his nose into his handkerchief. One or two more faltering breaths, then he calmed down. This memory is etched in his brain, it has remained. Grandfather now promised to cook something tasty, he went into the kitchen, prepared the pans, made the mix for the omelets, while skilfully flipping them up in the air in the middle of the kitchen. He sprinkled the omelets with lots of sugar and rolled them up. Laurent watched his grandfather, amused, as he acrobatically used the kitchen utensils, spun, danced to the rhythm, and cooked all at the same time.
Grandfather Gottlieb is a trained cook. As a young man, he worked in a well-known hotel in Bern and cooked there for reknown guests from the political world. It was a large, noble house with paintings and polished furniture. He remembers that there had been a large-format painting hanging in the reception hall. He had often looked at it as he passed by, and sometimes he even stopped there: A mountain lake surrounded by forest trees, a mighty mountain with steep rock faces in the background. The lake looks threatening. The fir trees in the foreground are bent, the stumps overgrown with moss. The sky is gray, only a sole ray of light falls on the rocky face in the distance. The painting touched him and impressed him as well, because the painted scene reflects forlornness, loneliness. Gottlieb spent, but only a few years in Bern. He had no friends there.
On the train from Bern to Zurich, he met Rosette, a pretty, smart woman. She talked about her childhood and described what life was like on the farm in eastern Switzerland where she grew up with twelve siblings. She told him that as a teenager, she had met a man whom she loved. But he was taken, so separation was out of the question for him. And his child, a boy, was born. Gottlieb looked at this young woman and listened. His heart listened too, and love met them. Soon, they agreed on a life together and got married.
Rosette moved from her parents' farm to the city with her son. In Zurich, she lived with Gottlieb and the boy Fritz in a small flat in Niederdorf, which was on the top floor of an older house on Zähringerstrasse. Fritz, the boy, was not alone for long. In a few years, the family had grown. Paul, Ernst and then the girl Hedi were born in quick succession. They livened up the small apartment, however it became too cramped. The family moved to the other side of town, to Wiedikon. They found a new home and lived there for a few years; the children went to school in the Ämtlerschulhaus. Gottlieb worked as a cook in a hotel. He did not earn much. It was the time before the First World War, and to live a more comfortable life, he had to come up with something.
He considered a change of jobs. After rethinking and searching, he accepted the position as administrator of the city prison in Winterthur. The family moved away from Zurich to live in a civil servant's flat near the prison grounds.
Gottlieb started finding his feet in his new job. Slowly, he understood that life as a prison administrator involved a lot of paperwork, but in many cases the fate of the inmates was on the line as well. Petty criminals slipped into ruin due to alcohol and got entangled in the undergrowth of the law. One bad deed led to the next bad one. One day, an inmate asked Gottlieb for permission to see Tulipe, as he called his wife, more often. She would pass on important information about how things were going in his business, which she had to run during his absence. And, if he could see his children more, especially Kätterli, who would bring him sweets and small crafts. Gottlieb contemplated with many fates. One convict caught his eye. On every piece of paper, that came into his hands, he made drawings. Now, he even began to scribble on the walls. Little scenes that described his inner emotional world or scenes that captured reality. A good artist. The sketches should have been kept, but they had to go, so only a few remained. The walls were painted over. That was the rule.
Rosette and Gottlieb's children grew up and found apprenticeships. Fritz was suited to the commercial field and Paul trained as a baker and pastry chef. For Ernst and Hedi, the opportunity arose to learn the hairdressing profession. Paul had ambitious ideas, he wanted to open his own bakery/pastry shop in La Chaux-de-Fonds in the French part of Switzerland. Gottlieb, his father, was eager to splash out and gave him money for the first time. But, apparently the people of La Chaux-de-Fonds preferred to buy their bread from the local baker rather than from a "Stiegenblätz", as the German-speaking Swiss were called there. Paul moved away. He set out for something new and enrolled in the police school in Zurich; he became a city policeman and later a police chief. Ernst and Hedi had plans together. They wanted to open a hairdressing salon in Zurich. Their father willingly got his wallet out once again for his children.
Laurent's father Theodor was now working as a car mechanic. The war continued. Switzerland froze in fear for its existence. An accidental bombing startled the city quarter. The alarm shrilled through the house. Everyone rushed to the cellar and waited - or was it not everyone? Theodor’s curiosity was stronger than his patience and anxiety. He grabbed Laurent and quickly climbed up the stairs. In the stairwell, he opened a window. There was nothing. Silence and darkness. The next day, they heard on the radio that a bomb had hit the Wipkingen neighbourhood. There were casualties, so the fear of war remained.
At the nearby airfield, war planes were often forced to land by the Swiss Air Force. One could hear of crashes and emergency landings. Was it his own curiosity or playing boasting; in any case, one day, Theodor decided to cycle to the airfield with Laurent. As they approached the airfield, they heard a dull hum. The sky was empty, but with a few clouds. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bomber appeared flying low and then crashed in a few seconds. Theodor threw Laurent off his bicycle onto the ground. Gripped by terror, they both lay there in the grass, witnessing the crash of a bomber that would never fulfil its mission.
The war continued. Theodor reenlisted. It was winter. Many missions were planned. On an icy bend, Theodor lost control of his sidecar motorbike and crashed. His knee only got better after having had long therapies. The recuperation in Chur was bearable and often entertaining. The patients eventually became fellows and formed a community of similar destiny.
During his time in the canton of Grisons, Theodor often thought of his unknown father and of his mother, both of whom were German citizens. They met in the Swiss mountains while working in a hotel in Davos. Wolfgang, Theodor's father, was on the move because he did not want to take over his parents' farm. The alternative of taking a job in a factory was far from his ideas of life. Freedom and a sense of adventure lured him to go on the road, and so, he succumbed to the rules of a journeyman. He set out in the traditional carpenter's attire. He left his home and looked for work here and there. On farms, in villages in Germany and Switzerland, he took jobs as a carpenter or occasionally helped with the hay or with the harvest as a farmhand. He arrived, just in time, for the fruit harvest in a small farming village in Switzerland. Pears, apples, and plums had to be picked, some for distilling, some for preserving, drying or for daily consumption. The farmer also had to work in the foundry at the aluminium factory to supplement his living. The farmer's wife, a farmhand and six children mainly took care of the work in the fields and the stable. Two cows, two pigs, two sheep, chickens, rabbits were almost enough to keep them fed. Wolfgang was allowed to stay. On Sunday afternoons, the farmer played the Swiss accordion. He leaned with his back against the warm stove and moved his butt to the rhythm of the music. His sons accompanied him on the clarinets.
The music filled Wolfgang with a desire to dance. The thought of holding a woman in his arms, feeling her, and being felt, increased his lust. But the music was only meant for the pleasure of the musicians and for the sparse audience from the neighbourhood. So, being in this mood, he used to go to a girl in the neighbouring village of Lucerne. They took their “Schnaps”-coffee in the kitchen. She knew that no one else was in the stable at that time. He grabbed her quickly and violently. Then, under the stable door, he arranged his clothes. The parting was instant, not even a backward glance.
Wolfgang stayed on the farm all winter. He found work with the carpenter in the village. At the crack of dawn, the farmer's wife cooked oatmeal, with sprinkled cinnamon and sugar, and then proceeded to spread butter flakes on the porridge. He ate slowly and leisurely under the parlour lamp that shone just enough light across the table. The granddaughter, who had come to see her grandmother early in the morning, sat opposite him, watching him eat and marvelling at him as he stuffed old newspapers down his chest for insulation and then he trudged across the snow into the cold winter morning.
When spring came, Wolfgang picked up his walking stick and moved on. He heard in the inn that there was work to be found in the mountains. Over the winter, many English and German had arrived in the hotels and the clinics. A few weeks later, he arrived in Davos. He was lucky and immediately found work in a hotel with an attached clinic. His job was to tend the gardens, prune trees, plant flower beds and weed. The mountainous spring had come, scattering blue and yellow flowers on the grass. The gentle, mild winds picked up and the sun warmed the earth.