Since Leipzig was under Russian occupation
and had a communist government, I could not study at the University. Only
workers' or farmers' children were allowed to do so - and my father was a
University Professor! What was I going to do?
Through the help of an uncle who
lived in West Berlin and a lot of luck, I obtained an English Labour Permit and
was able to flee from Leipzig to West Berlin. Great Britain would not let
anyone in from the Eastern parts so I, like Kennedy, had to become a Berliner.
Even so, I was listed as an Alien and had to report to the police once a month.
I did not mind any of that -I was so glad to be out of Germany - for me it
spelt freedom and no more fear.
The journey from Berlin to London was
quite adventurous, but nothing compared with the magic of my arrival. It was a
warm and sunny day in June. A vivacious and cultured seventy year old lady,
received me at Liverpool Street Station and took me by train to Guildford. From
there, she drove me in an old green Rover to a village called Albury and up to
her house, simply named "The Cottage." However, it was not so simple,
- this cottage was 400 years old and under the National Trust. It stood in a
large park-like garden on a little hill with sweet smelling wisteria climbing
all over the front of the house.
I had never seen anything so
beautiful, I stood spell bound. Mrs Moreau, my employer, lived with her lady
companion in this cottage/house, with 13 rooms. She showed me to my own little
bedroom upstairs. Then to my own little sitting room behind the pantry. It had
a book-cupboard, a table, two easy chairs and a radio. So when I sent a
telegram to my family, announcing my safe arrival, all I could formulate was:
"I have arrived in Fairyland stop Absolutely overjoyed stop Yours
Marita".
Later we sat in the garden,
drinking tea with milk! I was informed of my duties. I was a domestic servant
with a salary of £2 per week, with one afternoon off per week and one day per
month. In these incredibly beautiful surroundings, I was still floating on air
for quite a while.
Everything was so new to me. Having
been brought up in a big town, life in the country, and English country life to
be specific, was strange, exciting, but
also bewildering. Mrs Moreau took me to the village garden party where I
was introduced to the vicar and the 'local nobility', the Lady so-and-so, a
member of parliament, the butcher and the baker. There was a bicycle for me to
ride to the village. On Wednesdays, in the Post Office cum village store,
home-made cakes were sold by the Woman's Institute -jam puffs were my
favourite.
On Thursday afternoons, I'd get a
bus to Guildford in order to meet other German domestic servants. 'We would
sometimes go to the cinema, but more often to the theatre, an excellent
Repertory Company. This meant that they had a new play every week. It was a
kind of springboard for the London West end Theatres. Here I saw the best
plays, the best actors and in such a 'gemutlich' atmosphere - they even served
you tea and cakes on little trays in the interval. I, who prided myself on my
English, found out soon enough that I had much to learn. My first Shakespeare
play came: I didn't understand a word! But I picked it up quickly by listening
again and again and again. After three months in my 'Fairyland', I had my 21st
birthday. I was given the concise Oxford Dictionary, a book, I treasure to this
day.
Another thing that I was so glad about
was that I felt no anti-Semitism, nor any animosity towards me as a German. Mrs
Moreau, who was in fact a French Jewess from Calais, was highly respected in
the Village. She spoke fluent French, English and German, but spoke only English
with me and took the trouble to correct me. She introduced me to English
literature and for my Sunday education, I struggled a long time to understand
The Observer or The Sunday Times.
Incidentally, living in the
countryside, meant that I didn't have to go to the police station. Instead a
handsome police officer came to see me. We sat in my little living room and had
long conversations.
Most fairy tales also have a dark side to them, there are trials and errors to overcome. But that is another story, one that is fading in my memory to make room for these wonderful FAIRYLAND MEMORIES.
Malerargues,
14th March 2002