FREIBURGER MIGRANT WRITING (Satis Shroff)

Satis Shroff beim Freiburgs Dattler nach der Einbürgerungsfeier mit Verleihung des "Freiburger Integrationspreises - für eine offene Stadt" am Samstag, 13. Dezember 2014 im Historischen Kaufhaus am Münsterplatz Creative City Freiburg / Satis Shroff

Freiburg's Oberbürgermeister Dr. Dieter Salomon welcomed the new non-Teuronic migrants who received their German passports this year on Saturday, December 13, 2014 at 11:30 in Freiburg's Historical Kaufhaus, located near the cathedral. On this occassion the Freiburger Integration Prize 2014 was awarded to an intercultural newspaper called InZeitung, which is intercultural, international and integrative in its purpose and enjoys the financial support of Freiburg city.

This year's words of greeting was held by a sympathetic blonde lady Virginia Gonzalez Juareg who hails from Freiburg's partner-city Granada, is married to a Freiburger Bobbele and has two children. Dr. Salomon greeted the guests and handed over the 3000 euro Prize to the editorial team of InZeitung. The music was conducted by the energetic and fantastic musician-cum-conductor Ro Kuijpers and his Heim and Flucht Orchestra comprising migrants and Germans and the songs and rhythms were catchy and multicultural in tone. After the event I mixed with the guests and had chats with Dr. Dieter Salomon, whom I know since our student days at the Thomas Morus Burse in Littenweiler, his assistant Frau Martina Ruh and Klaus Schüle from the CDU Kreisverband. When I told Klaus Schüle that I've been singing with the men's choir in Kappel he replied, 'Oh, then you're absolutely integrated.' I didn't, of course, tell him that a member of the men's choir had recently said to me:'You're an Ausländer.' A foreigner. His line was:'Man muss schlagfertig sein in Deutschland.' Perhaps he found me too polite. 

Anyway, it was reassuring to hear Dr. Salomon welcoming the new, migrated Germans. They have their German passports and the same rights as the German white mainstream but why would a member of a men's choir remind me that I'm an Ausländer, if not because of dermatological reasons? After living over 35 years in Freiburg, I decided to become a German whereby I had to forfeit of my former citizenship. I chose the German identity but now I have second thoughts. Later I also had a chance to talk with a photograph from the InZeitung Reinhardt Jacoby, who was all praise for Bhutan and its Brutto Gross Product of Happiness, and how happy the Bhutanese seemed to be. Well, the Danes are also a happy people according to the latest statistics.I told him you can go to Bhutan only when your can pay a lot of money, whereas every Fritz, Hans and Jakob can enjoy Nepal and its beauty. No, we didn't talk about the Lhotsampas of Bhutan who have found asylum as contingent refugees in the USA and Canada. I'm sure their brutto happiness product has shot up now.

In a rubric in cooperation with the local Goethe Instutute writes Lybov Demidova (Kazachstan): 'I came from Kazachstan and was surprised to see so many elderly people doing sport. In Kasachstan old people don't ride bicycles. Another student from Japan named Masashi said, 'I was surprised to notice that no building was highr than the cathedral (Münster). The cathedral is very old but it is perhaps the biggest in the city.'
In Kathmandu we had a similar case:  the Narayanhiti Palace of King Birendra was the highest building in the capital and no other commoner was allowed to supercede the palace's status. King Birendra was killed by his son Prince Dipendra in a palace massacre, and the successor to the throne King Gyanendra has become a commoner due to the victory of the maoists in the former Himalayan kingdom Now it's a federal republic and the king's palace has become a tourist attraction. Moreover, Kathmandu is a tectonic valley and subject to earthquakes.

Lena Lytvynenko, a Ukranian artist-cum-art historian, had published a recipe for warenyky with seasonal berries or apples. The dumplings remind you of tortillinis (with cheese filling) from Italy, momocha from Katmandu and Afghan mantus with minced meat.

Another articles in the autumn-winter issue of InZeitung was one with the title 'many miles away' about the Nobel Laureate for Literature Hertha Müller, who still desires to being back her land Romania or Hannah Arendt whi didn't want to return to Germany, worked actively for the USA during the Nurnberg Trials, or the victims of homophobia in Russia.

During the Third Reich a good many Germans sought asylum as refugees in the USA, UK, Switzerland, Portugal and Greece and countries that were thought to be safe against the Teutonic hordes of the Third Reich.Their experience in exile has made European philosophy and culture what it is today. It might be noted that the Germans were not only political refugees but also economic refugees.

Migrant Writing in the English speaking world is a key phenomenon in English Literature and the USA does a lot for the authors from other parts of the world who have found a home in the USA. In Germany this phenomenon is in the infantile stage and, as far as this writer sees it, only migrant-writers from Turkey, Spain, Italy, Greece which are already well-established and integrated in the German diaspora are feted by the Cultural Departments of German cities. Who speaks for the the minorities from countries like Pakistan, Nepal, Columbia? If these writers don't know how to write in German and speak it appropriately, they are ignored, with the result that their voices die out.
At a European level and since Britain has its colonial resources that still use English as the main language of communication, the BBC and the British Council organise Creative Writing Workshops for migrants because they have an abundance and wealth of stories within them, the trials and tribulations that they have had to overcome till they finally reached a haven, a refugium where they can breathe in freedom. It is with this hope that people flee from their persecutors after being mishandled due to their race, religion, ethnical, social or political colour, poverty and hunger to the free, democratic northern hemisphere, where there are people with hearts for their tales of misery.

Satis Shroff with CDU politician Klaus Schüle

Satis Shroff: Lecturer, author, blogger

Green politician Dr. Dieter Salomon

FREIBURGER POET: Zeitgeistlyrik von Satis Shroff

ZEITGEISTLYRIK (Satis Shroff):

Satis Shroff with the German Gem Queen

Categories:	Sad, Grief, Sympathy, Broken Heart Poems & Tributes, Memorials Poetry	Viewed 1518 times
Author:	Satis Shroff, USA
Poem The Sea Swells (Satis Shroff) The sea shells on the sea shore Suddenly the sea swells. Ring the church and temple bells. All is not well. The sea has gone back. Brown-burnt Tarzans and Janes From different continents, Wonder what’s going on. A man from Sweden Is immersed in his thriller under the palms. A mother and daughter from Germany Frolic on the white sunny beach. Even the sea-gulls stop and listen To the foreboding silence. The sea swells, Comes back And brings an apocalyptic destruction: Sweeping humans, huts and hotels, Boats, billboards and debris. Cries for help are stifled by the roaring waves. The sea goes back. Leaving behind lost souls, Caught in suspended animation. I close my eyes. Everything dies. Tsunami. Tsunami. Shanti. Om shanti. sammie bagley: a very powerful write and sad as wellUSA8/27/2008 2:44:47 PM Thelma ZaracostasHi Satis nice to read you again here on voices!Australia7/7/2008 4:41:40 AMLeeVery strong expressive poem, which carried the immense power of nature along in its images.Aus12/18/2007 10:55:58 PM thelma zaracostas Dear Satis I have never experienced a Tsunami and pray I never will. Your poem describe the vulnerability and helplessness of those who have.

Categories:	Ballad Poems & Tributes, Memorials Poetry	Viewed 2998 times
Author:	Satis Shroff, USA
Poem THE LURE OF THE HIMALAYAS (Satis Shroff, Freiburg) A long time ago near the town of Kashgar, I, a stranger in local clothes was captured By the sturdy riders of Vali Khan. What was a stranger With fair skin and blue eyes, Looking for in Vali Khan’s terrain? I, the stranger spoke a strange tongue. ‘He’s a spy sent by China. Behead him,’ barked the Khan’s officer. I pleaded and tried to explain My mission in their country. It was all in vain. On August 26, 1857 I, Adolph Schlagintweit, a German traveller, an adventurer, Was beheaded as a spy, Without a trial. I was a German who set out on the footsteps Of the illustrious Alexander von Humboldt, With my two brothers Hermann and Robert, From Southhampton on September 20,1854 To see India, the Himalayas and Higher Asia. The mission of the 29000km journey Was to make an exact cartography Of the little known countries, Sans invitation, I must admit. In Kamet we reached a 6785m peak, An elevation record in those days. We measured the altitudes, Gathered magnetic, meteorological, And anthropological data. We even collected extensive Botanical, zoological and ethnographic gems. Hermann and I made 751 sketches, Drawings, water-colour and oil paintings. The motifs were Himalayan panoramas, Single summits, glacier formations, Himalayan rivers and houses of the natives. I still see myself and Hermann working With our pencils, brushes daubed in water-colours and oil, Trying to capture the colours and perspectives Of the Himalayas. Fond memories of Padam valley, near the old moraine Of the main glacier at Zanskar in pencil and pen. A view from Gunshankar peak 6023 metres, From the Trans-Sutlej chain in aquarelle. A European female in oriental dress in Calcutta 1855. Brahmin, Rajput and Sudra women draped in saris. Kristo Prasad, a 35 year old Rajput Photographed in Benaras. An old Hindu fakir with knee-long rasta braids, Bhot women from Ladakh, snapped in Simla. Kahars, Palki-porters from Bihar, Hindus of the Sudra caste. A Lepcha armed with bow and arrows, In traditional dress up to his calves And a hat with plume. Kistositta, a 25 year old Brahmin from Bengal, Combing the hair of Mungia, A 43 year old Vaisa woman. A wandering Muslim minstrel Manglu at Agra, With his sarangi. A 31 year old Ram Singh, a Sudra from Benaras, Playing his Kolebassen flute. The monsoon, And thatched Khasi houses at Cherrapunji, The rainiest place on earth. The precious documents of our long journey Can be seen at the Alpine Museum Munich. Even a letter, Sent by Robert to our sister Matilde, Written on November 2, 1866 from Srinagar: ‘We travelled a 200 English mile route, Without seeing a human being, Who didn’t belong to our caravan. Besides our horses, we had camels, The right ones with two humps, Which you don’t find in India. We crossed high glacier passes at 5500m And crossed treacherous mountain streams.’ My fascination for the Himalayas Got the better of me. I had breathed the rare Himalayan air, And felt like Icarus. I wanted to fly higher and higher, Forgetting where I was. My brothers Hermann and Robert left India By ship and reached Berlin in June,1857. I wanted to traverse the continent Disregarding the dangers, For von Humboldt was my hero. Instead of honour and fame, My body was dragged by fierce riders in the dust, Although I had long left the world. My soul had raced with the speed of light to Heaven A Persian traveller, a Muslim with a heart Found my headless body. He brought my remains all the way to India, Where he handed it to a British colonial officer. It was a fatal fascination, But had I the chance, I’d do it again. COMMENTS: Thelma Zaracostas: Hi Satis! Another read of this wonderful poem,great to see you again.Australia9/6/2008 9:23:03 AM Fanfare2000Beautiful words, though it would be great book to write about, you should expand this and create a novel, it would be a big time seller, I'm sure there is more to this story than you have told so far.USA2/10/2008 4:09:42 thelma: I love this poem, Satis, that is why I am reading it again and again all will enjoy this very educational and very colourful write!australia10/2/2007 11:13:38 AM thelmaHi Satis waiting for some more of your great poems in the meantime back to read again one my favourites.australia9/8/2007 8:29:21 PM Satis Shroff writes: Dear Thelma, Glad to know that you found The Lure of the Himalayas colourful and educational. There was a big exhibition about the three German Schlagintweit brothers. And what I found even interesting was that a teacher from Freiburg, named Joseph Sartorius, did the same journey with his camera and photographed the sites of the paintings by the three brothers mentioned in the poem. It was great to compare the modern photographs with the original paintings.I want to bring out my poems with the Himalayan photographs of Joseph Sartorius.Have a nice day. Regards, satis Satis Germany5/19/2007 10:43:04 AM thelma zaracostas: This is a wonderful read thank you for the journey into the life and adventures of this amazing person up until now I had never heard of him. Very colourful and educational.australia5/19/2007 7:44:10 AM

Categories: Brothers Poems & Life Poetry		Viewed 3225 times
Author:	Satis Shroff, USA
Poem KATHMANDU IS NEPAL (Satis Shroff, Freiburg) There were two young men, brothers Who left their homes In the foothills of the Eastern Himalayas. The older one, for his father had barked at him, “Go to Nepal and never come home again.” The younger, for he couldn’t bear the beatings At the hands of his old man. . The older brother sobbed and stifled his sorrow and anger For Nepal was in fact Kathmandu, With its colleges, universities, Education Ministry, Temples, Rana-palaces and golden pagodas And also its share of hippies, hashish, tourists, Rising prices and expensive rooms to rent. The younger brother went to Dharan, And enlisted in the British Army depot To become a Gurkha, A soldier in King Edwards Own Gurkha Rifles. He came home the day he became a recruit, With a bald head, as though his father had died. He looked forward to the parades and hardships That went under the guise of physical exercises.   He thought of stern, merciless sergeants and corporals Of soccer games and regimental drills A young man’s thrill of war-films and scotch and Gurkha-rum evenings. He’d heard it all from the Gurkhas who’s returned in the Dasain festivals. There was Kunjo Lama his maternal cousin, Who boasted of his judo-prowess and showed photos of his British gal, A pale blonde from Chichester in an English living-room. It was a glorious sunset, The clouds blazing in scarlet and orange hues, As the young man, riding on the back of a lorry, Sacks full of rice and salt, Stared at the Siwaliks and Mahabharat mountains Dwindling behind him. As the sun set in the Himalayas, The shadows grew longer in the vales. The young man saw the golden moon, Shining from a cloudy sky. The same moon he’d seen on a poster in his uncle’s kitchen As he ate cross-legged his dal-bhat-shikar after the hand-washing ritual.   Was the moon a metaphor? Was it his fate to travel to Kathmandu, Leaving behind his childhood friends and relatives in the hills, Who were struggling for their very existence, In the foothills of the Kanchenjunga, Where the peaks were not summits to be scaled, with or without oxygen, But the abodes of the Gods and Goddesses. A realm where bhuts and prets, boksas and boksis, Demons and dakinis prevailed. Glossary: Ranas: a ruling class that usurped the throne and ruled for 104 years in Nepal Gurkhas: Nepali soldiers serving in Nepalese, Indian and British armies Dal-bhat: Linsen und Reis Shikar: Fleischgericht Bhuts: demons Boksas & boksis: male & female witches

Elizabeth Olesen	Satis, I enjoyed reading this contribution with much interest and joy. This poem brings back the memories of Nepal where I lived six years in my life. This is a great story of your courageous Ghurka coming back to Kathmandu, Nepal, seeing before his eyes the rich culture,religion and history of his own country. I would be very happy to read more of your poems with the context of the beautiful Hindu Kingdom of Nepal.	Denmark	10/5/2009 5:05:00 PM
Thelma Zaracostas	Dear Satis hope all is going well for you always a treat to read you again and again here on voices!	Australia	10/5/2009 8:39:37 AM
thelma zaracostas	Dear Satis I have read all your poems and I only can say to you Amazing and Fantastic read it has been an incredible journey.Thank you	australia

Gurkha soldiers of the Nepalese Army with automatic rifles and legendary khukris

Former Horseguards of the King's Gurkhas in Kathmandu

Categories:Sad, Grief, Sympathy, Broken Heart Poems & Political, War, International Poetry		Viewed 1092 times
Author:	Satis Shroff, USA
Poem THE NAKED HILLS (Satis Shroff, Freiburg) A young Nepalese woman Sits in front of her parents’ thatched home In the Middle Hills of Nepal. Her two hands caress her shoulders. It’s cold in the hills of Nepal, Where the hills are naked And its sons have left In search of better pastures, For the hills are barren. Governments and kings Have come and gone, But the poverty has remained. There’s no flour to bake one’s bread. The mothers seek and pluck Brennessel, And call it sisnu, To make a soup In the frugal hills of Nepal. In Maghey Sankrati we eat Stems and roots, Tarul and sweet-potatoes. There’s no wheat, maize, rice or mustard In these naked hills. Everything has become bitter. What remains is love and attachment. A Nepalese bird still sings: Kafal pakyo. Kafal pakyo. The berry’s ripe Glossary: Brennessel (Ger.): sisnu (Nepali), stinging nettle Maghey Sankrati: festival in Nepal COMMENTS:  Lee writes: 'In these naked hills./Everything has become bitter./What remains is love and attachment' ... lovely poem Satis ... how people survive in adverse terrains, under various social conditions is amazing!AUS3/14/2008 7:35:30 AM thelma: Dear Satis keep writing and sharing your wonderful work here on voices .australia3/14/2008 4:48:44 AMtj24goodus5/3/2007 5:40:43 PM thelma zaracostas: Dear Satis,  Amongst all the sadness in your poem a ray of love and hope shines and the birds still sing.Wonderfull! "What remains is love and attachment" A Nepalese bird still sings.australia5/3/2007 4:39:12 AM

Categories: Life Poems & Tributes, Memorials Poetry		Viewed 1144 times
Author:	Satis Shroff, USA
Poem ON CAROLINE WALTER  (Satis Shroff, Freiburg) I took a walk to the old cemetery With its cultural treasures, And saw the Dance of Death At the entrance of Michael’s chapel. The gravestones expressed The self-consciousness of the citizens. There were many stories That made their rounds In the town of Freiburg. I felt drawn to one gravestone It was that of Caroline Walter Lying on her bed of concrete, Her head reposing on a big pillow. She had aesthetic features And wore a long dress. Her left arm rested on her breast. Her nose was elegantly long and pointed. Her eyes were closed, As though she’d fallen asleep In the afternoon. Her lips were well chiselled. On her right hand She held a book she’d been reading. I discern the strings of a fiddle from the neighborhood. Fresh scarlet and pink roses Lay under her chin, As if she was taking in their scent With her fine nostrils. A breeze undulates the leaves on the floor And disappears. The expression on her face Was serene and tranquil. A lady in harmony and peace With herself and the world She lived in. A Fräulein from a decent family.

thelma	Hi Satis nice to see you here at voices, once again great poem hope you stay awhile!	australia	11/16/2007 5:41:15 AM
thelma zaracostas	Strong descriptive writing Satis, great poem

Schwarzwald Cribs at the Talvogtei Kirchzarten (Satis Shroff)

Christmas experience at the Talvogtei in Kirchzarten from 28. November till 30. November 2014. The people of the Dreisam Valley were gathered in their woolies to drink warm Glüh-wine, and children's 'Punch,' a drink with fruits, mergues sausages with hot harissa chilies, flammkuchen, French crepes, schupfnoodles and lots of chocolate and sweets at the Weihnachtsmarkt in Kirchzarten and the castle surroundings of Ebnet. 

 The historical recipe for preparing flammkuchen, as baked pancakes are called. The dough is rollned into a big, thin pizza-kind of bread and the ingredients made of cheese and bacon spread on top, then the Flammkuchen is baked in an over and served warm and fresh and relished with white wine or the above-mentioned Glühwein which is a hearty meal to keep you warm and the surrounding cold off.

 Self-made handicrafts are made by Moms and the ladies of the Landfrauen verein from the Dreisam Valley. 

 KIRCHZARTEN (Satis Shroff)

Schwarzwald Cribs at the Talvogtei of Kirchzarten:  The Black Forest Cribs are the works of old folk construction art that can be found in the valleys of the Schwarzwald.

The ancient form of architecture which was common in the Black Forest through the centuries was developed later as the Alpine country Krippe (cribs or manger). They belong to the local cribs with regional impressions and are mainly constructed in the Black Forest and are known throughout the world.

Schwarzwald Cribs at the Talvogtei Kirchzarten: The Black Forest Cribs are the works of old folk construction art that can be found in the valleys of the Schwarzwald.

The ancient form of architecture which was common in the Black Forest through the centuries was developed later as the Alpine country Krippe (cribs or manger). They belong to the local cribs with regional impressions and are mainly constructed in the Black Forest and are known throughout the world.

This Is Not My Body: Cec n'est pas mon corps: Dries Verhoeven, a Dutsch artist, who has shown his works in Amsterdam, Utrecht and Berlin was recently in Freiburg with his glass showcase with eight human living exhibits from different professions and ages, which gave interesting stuff for conversations in the Freiburger streets, cafe and restaurants. The exhibits were posted strategically, not in the Bertold's fountan but the near the small fountain opposite Cafe Schmidt, between Waltari and the Jokers bookshop. The human body, depicted by this elderly nude, starts to show signs of ageing after the age of 20. The degeneration occurs as a result of free radicals attacking the body, which damage the DNA structure in the cells. Wrinkles are caused by repetitive motions of the skin, like in the act of smiling. The reduced level of elastin creates a larger skin surface, for example under the chin. The average age in Germany is 40 years old, and this age is increasing. Professional photo models keep getting younger and younger. Ideally, they start their careers when they are between 14 and 19 years of age.

Among the interesting exhibits were an Imam doing his religious prayer rituals which caused eyebriws to be raised in these times of wars in Irak and Syria, and the atrocities of the IS. An elderly Freiburger lady with a pale, well-fed face and scarlets lips associated the Imam with the increasing fear might of the IS and their radical methods of depapitating western journalists and making a show of it all. To introduce a certain amount of objectivity, Verhoeven would have done well by bringing a Catholic priest into the cubicle.Or chicken, since Holland is one of the biggest chicken producer in Europe.

With his works Dries Verhoeven explores the borders between thetre, art and reality. It might be mentioned that he had to stop his Online Dating Performance 'Wanna Play' in Berlin-Kreuzberg after heavy protests. This just goes to show that Berlin i not Amsterdam, and it doesn't have the flair of openness and tolerance that you find in the Dutch city after the adage: andere Länder, andere Sitten.

 This is not by body. Cec n'est pas mon corps..

Languidly grazing cows below Giersberg, Kirchzarten, a provincial idyll where the Nature is serene and tranquil, and where people go to breathe the fresh air called 'Landluft' and enjoy a good Badische meal in the Black Forest countryside.

world.

http://satisshroff-contemporarywritings.blogspot.de/2014/11/migration-story-in-freiburg-satis-shroff.html

MIGRATION STORY IN FREIBURG (Satis Shroff)

MIGRATION STORY IN FREIBURG (Satis Shroff)

MIGRATION is not a new phenomenon of the present day and is an important factor in urban development. The cultural heritage of the city is shaped by the migrants. The society in which they make their presence felt leads to a shaping, challenging, taxing and most of all adds to the enrichment of the society.

To this effect, the City Archieve has been working on a long-time research project which has assigned historians, social scientists and expert journalists in the past years to raise new questions about the history of the city.

The result of the intensive research is now in print and bears the title 'Migration in Freiburg/Breisgau—its Story from 1500 till the Present' and the book has 47 contributions by 26 authors involving numerous, diverse facettes and illustrations.

The chronological content throws light on themes such as the role of religion in migration, the presence and echo it found in the media, participation, language competence, freetime activities and social lives of the migrants.

The book, compiled by Ulrich Ecker and Nausikaa Schrilla, has been published by the City of Freiburg and has 304 pages, the City Archive is the publisher.

In order to accompany the book project, a series of talks has been arranged. The book presentation is on the International Day of Migrants on Thursday, December 18, 2014 at 5:30 pm at the Winterer-Foyer, Theatre Freiburg, Bertold Strasse 46, 79098 Freiburg.

The guests will be greeted by Ulrich von Kirchbach (Mayor for Culture, Integration & Senior Citizens), Meral Gründer (Migrant Counsel), Barbara Mundel (TheatreStadt Freiburg). Musical accompaniment by Heim & Flucht Orchestra Theatre Freiburg. And the evening will end with snacks & drinks.

Kappel Sings: A Singing Kindergarten & the Men's Choir (Satis Shroff)

Kappel Singt: Singender Kindergarten und Männergesangverein

In Kappel besteht eine Verbindung zwischen dem Männergesangverein und dem örtlichen Kindergarten St. Barbara unter der Leitung von Frau Ursula Allgeier. Es ist eine richtige Patenschaft, Freundschaft und Kooperation entstanden. In einer Verstaltung im Kappler Gemeindeheim zum Martinimarkt in dem der MGV-Kappel und die Kinder von St. Barbara gemeinsam Lieder sangen, hat Frau Roswitha Panknin, stellvertretend für den Deutschen Chorverband, eine Felix-Urkunde und den Jahresbutton zum Aufkleben auf das Felix-Schild an Frau Allgeier überreicht.

Die Felix-Plakette ist eine Auszeichnung für einen singenden Kindergarten und wird vom Deutschen Chorverband verliehen. Frau Panknin (Breisgauer Sängerbund) sagte, 'Die Kindergarten kann sich nach Ablauf der drei jährigen Gültigkeit dieser aktuellen Felix-Auszeichnung um die neue Plakete, „Die Carusos“ bewerben.

„Ich singe gerne – und ich kann es auch!“ ist das Ziel der bundesweiten Initiativ. „Die Carusos,“ das heißt: Jedem Kind seine Stimme. Die Bedeutung eines qualifizierten musikalischen Angebots im Kindergarten und musikalischer Vorschulbildung wächst. Die Schulen haben auch ein Interesse daran, dass die Begegnung mit Musik nicht erst im Klassenzimmer stattfindet. Früh übt sich: Singen tun wir alle in der Krabbelstube und wir können es bis ins hohe Alter fortführen (siehe MGV-Kappel!).

Was sind the Voraussetzungen und wer kann eine Carusos Fachberaterin werden? Nun, es wird verlangt, dass die Person eine musikalische Bilding hat, pädagogisches Engagement zeigt und ausgeprägt Kontaktfreudig ist. Die spezifische Carusos Fachberaterin muss durch eine Prüfung eine Qualifizierung nachweisen und wird bei bestehen mit einem Zeugnis beglaubigt.

Der Gesangsverein Kappel-Ebnet (1910) hat schon die Zelter Plakette 2011 vom Deutschen Chorverband erhalten. Nächstes Jahr ist der Männergesangverein-Kappel 95 Jahre alt. Auch Männer freuen sich auf Auszeichnungen.

Die Kinder sollen tägliches singen üben in Kindergerechter hohen Tonlage. Die Liederauswahl soll vielfältig und altersgemäß sein. Was mich persönlich sehr erfreut hat, war die Integration von Liedern aus anderen Kulturen, vor allem soll sich der demographische Wandel in Deutschland in der Musik bemerkbar machen, denn das gehört zum Alltag. Man hört Lang Lang so gerne im Fernsehen. Ich bin ganz Froh, dass wir immer wieder Menschen mit Migrationshintergrund und aus außereuropäischen Traditionen kommen. Ich komme ursprunglich aus Nepal, Fatao aus Togo, Charles aus Kamerun und wir haben auch Sänger aus der Mongolei. Im Kindergarten ist es auch nicht viel anders. Es ist eine wunderschöne Bereicherung für uns alle.

Trotz Proteste über sogenannte ausländische Lieder unter den betagten MGV Mitgliedern, haben wir die Sänger dazu motiviert russische, afrikanische, amerikanische, irische, kroatische, deutsche, lateinische Lieder zu singen. Wenn die Kinder und die Erwachsenen Männer zusammen auf der Bühne stehen, nach gemeinsamen Proben, und gemeinsamen singen sind sie doch alle glücklich.

Seit einigen Jahren versucht der MGV die Schauinslandschule ebenfalls für die Felix- Plakette und Carusos und anschließend eine Musikpatenschaft zu begründen wie mit unserem Kappler Kindergarten. Vielleicht wäre es in Naher Zukunft möglich ein jährliches Konzert mit den kleinen (Kindergarten) und den großen (MGV, Schule) Sängern und Sängerinnen zu veranstalten mit tierisch guten Lieder. Eine gemeinsame rAuftritt wäre doch möglich mit der Unterstützung vom Musikverein-Kapel. All das braucht viel Einsatz aber es bereitet uns Kapplern auch viel Freude.

---Satis Shroff

www.mgv-kappel.de

Rituals in the Himalayas (Satis Shroff)

Rituals in the Himalayas (Satis Shroff)

Namaste,
I greet the Godliness in you.
Tika, a Hindu symbol,
A blessing from the parents,
From the priest at the temple,
During a visit to a shrine,
After a puja,
A ritual ceremony.

Faith and belief in God,
Spirituality in the Himalayas
As old and strong,
As the Abode of Snows,
Undaunted by colonialism
And conquests with the sickel sword.

Om namo Shiva,
Rituals reveal the unity,
Between the self and the cosmos;
A light in your innermost self.

Through rituals you become one
With your soul.
You feel it within the molecules,
Atoms and positrons in you.
Be it big or small,
In this eternally moving world,
Nothing is without a meaning.

The ancient rituals
Have each a meaning,
In the endless metamorphosis
Of the individual,
To be in tact with the universe.
It is the daily rituals
That lead us to unity,
Growth of consciousness,
That engulfs all.

In rituals we bundle energy
For the changes in the cycle
Of Death and Creation.
It is the litany of mantras
Combined with ritual offerings,
That create a work of art: the yantra.
Dedicated to the Gods and Goddesses,
In the shrine, temple and pagoda.

Seasonal flowers plucked at dawn,
To beckon and appease the Gods,
Sandalwood tika paste,
Cereals and herbs,
Sweetmeat and fruits.
The beauty of the yantra
Creates harmony.
The chime of the temple bells
Evoke feelings of spirituality.
There is a mingling
Of cultural powers that be,
In peace and balance.

If you’re ill perform a ritual
At the right time,
To restore the balance,
Between illness and recovery,
Between right and wrong,
Between holy and unholy,
Between wealth and poverty,
Between rain and sun,
Flood and drought,
Life, death and rebirth.

— with Freiburger-Nepalese Association-Fna and Seraf Pandey.

 

Namaste, I Greet the Godliness in You! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fotoessay: I Lost My Heart in Heidelberg (Satis Shroff)

I LOST MY HEART IN HEIDELBERG

Ever lost your heart in Heidelberg? Here's a song dedicated to this wonderful city in Baden-Württemberg:
 

I lost my heart in Heidelberg's fair city,
'twas in a gentle summer night,
I was in love, so deep in love entangled,
Her rosebud mouth was laughing with delight.
..What has become of you, my dear, since I had to be wise,
Old Heidelberg, so beautiful, you German Paradise!
I went away in sorrow, left happiness, ease and wine,
I think of you, I long for you,
You are my 'auld lang syne!'

We know the magical powers of witches and shamans today mostly through fairy tales and children's books (Harald Topfer). Sometimes we hear that witches knew a lot about healing. Which healing medication were known in the early days? Prescriptions for magical potions have been passed down with the passage of time. They were said to make people lover others against their will. This is still practiced in many cultures where there are shamans who have good or evil magical practices. The belief in witches began not in the sinister Middle Ages but earlier in the 15th century. In order to protect ourselves from witches (Hexen) we have amulets made, and learn about the different ways of protecting ourselves. In the Tumor Biology it has become normal additionally to use herbal medicine or such amulets to ward off evil spirits because faith or belief in the power of such artifacts blessed by the shaman or witch,if you may, can be beneficial. A great percentage of the effect of medicine is belief and to a lesser degree the actual effect of the medication itself. At the Apocathery Museum in Heidelberg you even learn how to make a salve which won't help you to fly (take a broom or the Lufthansa!) but will enable you to have scented and soft hands.

 It's not the fastest train in the world but it's fun, this rickety, creaky affair that squeaks and jolts all the way to the peak. The ride downhill was faster. Reminded me of the funicular train to the top of Salzburg, Austria. You are rewarded with a majestic view of the Neckar river, as it snakes in the valley below and the Heidelberger bridge, the tourist boats, the cars speeding along the highways, and everywhere lush green, blooming vegetation. The Philosopher's Path looked inviting. The castle garden was extensive and there were students lolling on the grass, tourists walking around in swarms with their respective guides. Your could hear: English, Japanese, Chinese, French and other tongues.

 

Zwei Entlein: two ducks chillaxing despite the many visitors to the castle of Heidelberg which was built in the 13th and 17th century. The early Gothic buildings are the ruins, and was the seat of the Pfälsische Wittelbacher.

 Heidelberg is a wonderful university town.

Heidelberg castle is the epitome of the Romantic and depicts the

 splendour of the Renaissance as well as the sad devastation left behind by the 30 years war. Then the reconstruction, the renewed prosperity and the final destruction during the French-Palatinate War.

The sights of the castle? The King's Hall, a gigantic wine barrel, so big you have to climb a creaky, wooden, spiral staircase and if you're medical-minded,a GP, a pharmacist, stud.med.or cand.med.or a nursing student doing evidence-based-nursing, why, you must visit the German Pharmacy Museum located in the castle. 

Haus zum Ritter: This house was built in 1592 for the family of a wealthy textile trader and is one of the most beautiful Renaissance houses in Europe. Today it's an expensive hotel with a restaurant for visitors from all over the world.

FREIBURGER CHRONICLE (Satis Shroff): Towards a Culture of Remembering the Past (Satis S...

FREIBURGER CHRONICLE (Satis Shroff): Towards a Culture of Remembering the Past (Satis S...: Towards a Culture of Remembering the Past: GRUESOME GURS NEVERMORE (Satis Shroff) The Blue Bridge stretches over the rail...

Towards a Culture of Remembering the Past (Satis Shroff)

Towards a Culture of Remembering the Past:

GRUESOME GURS NEVERMORE(Satis Shroff)

The Blue Bridge stretches over the railroad tracks,

A bronze greyish-blue overcoat hangs near the bridge.

The sleek, white intercity Express glides below,

On its way to Basle (Switzerland).

Shortly thereafter a TGV-train from Freiburg to Paris.

The overcoat reminds us of the trains in October 1940,

That took Freiburg's Jewish population,

400 of them,

To Gurs, a concentration-camp in southern France.

And from there to Auschwitz,

To be murdered.

That was state-organised racism.

The deported Jews had lived in Baden,

Saarland and the Pfalz.

6,504 deported Jews.

Most were forced like cattle in wagons

In the summer of 1942,

Deported to concentration camps in Eastern Europe.

A few could escape,

Many died in the inhuman camps,

Which had barbed-wire, Alsatian dogs and armed guards.

The winter was hard.

Some children were saved by help-organisations.

These survivors are the time-witnesses,

Who have lived to tell

Of the cruelty of deportation,

Life in the Lager Gurs,

1027 kilometres away from Freiburg,

And their rescue from the clutches of the Gestapo

In the end.

Ah, in this very town there are people,

Who want to keep this shameful deed in mind.

The Zeitzeugin Renate Haberer-Krauss came in 2010,

To tell us how it was in those days.

The Basic Law now holds for all,

Irrespective of nationality, faith or colour.

We have realised that without respect and tolerance,

There can be no peaceful togetherness.

Tolerance should not lead to indifference.

Let us march in demonstrative silence,

To the blue Wiwili Bridge,

Where the bronze overcoat is.

Denke, Du, was uns geschah.

Think, yes you, of what happened to us.

* * *

HOPE HEALS (Satis Shroff)

Unto you that fear my name

Shall the sun of righteousness

Arise with healing in his wings

(Malachi)

Bridges of peace, friendship and togetherness

Are built on mutual respect,

Tolerance and Miteinander.

We must talk about the symbols

Of tyranny in your villages, towns and cities.

On Memorial Day we gather with earnest faces,

To honour and remember the people

Whose names are engraved on stones,

Who died in the two World Wars.

The suns and husbands have fallen,

But a new ghost raises its ugly head again,

The Neonazis who work for

The Bundesnachrichtendienst.,

Who receive money for their incompetence,

In Thuringen, Saxony,

Hessen and Lower Saxony.

The lesson of faschism taught us

Never to combine

The police with the secret service,

For it would be akin to the Gestapo,

The Geheimen Staatspolizei.

The sixteen secret services in Germany

Cannot coordinate and cooperate.

Since thirteen years have we given

Neonazis a free hand,

Who robbed banks,

Executed Turkish and Greek migrants.

The constitution makes it possible:

‘Germany for the Germany,

All aliens out!’

Long live the Freedom of Speech.

But prithee, where is the protection

Of the migrants and underdogs

Of the society?

Is a new holocaust in the offing?

Yet there is no way

But the path of peace and togetherness.

The ewig gestrigen and the neos

Are still licking the wounds of war,

Wounds that won’t heal,

For they are infected with hate anew,

With brown-propaganda.

War has always been ugly and brutal.

The widows of the on-going krieg in the Hindukush,

The survivors who don’t understand their own world,

After the trauma of Vietnam, Irak, Afghanistan.

When the NATO sirens are tested,

The air vibrates with a monstrous noise.

Fear makes the olde soldier’s heart beats faster,

His pulse races and he almost chokes.

The memories and the fury of war overwhelm him.

Who will restore the faces we’ve adored?

Love, faith, togetherness and peace

Haven’t been lulled to sleep.

We still hear the clarion call

To the dangers of war,

To the hoarse shouts

Of the Neos in the street,

Who strut and fret,

And believe Auschwitz was a lie.

A silence treads like clouds shadows,

Among the people of Germany.

Hope hasn’t abandoned us yet,

Despite the petite victories of the rightists,

In Germany, Switzerland and Austria.

The people in these lands

Think otherwise.

In every good person there is a bad part,

In every bad person there’s a good trait,

Like ying and yang.

We can only appeal to humans,

Hope and pray for peace,

And the old wounds to heal,

Between humans in this world.