A brook so low you barely got your feet wet split a community for over four decades of time. Because of a chance of landscape, the 50 locals of Mödlareuth, a hamlet encircled by coniferous woods, fields and breathtaking views, found themselves at the center of the Cold War tensions. They had the misfortune to span Bavaria, in West Germany, and Thuringia in the East, a border that was marked first by a enclosure and then by a barricade. US troops nicknamed it Little Berlin.
Months after their own wall was torn down, and even before their country had unified again in 1990, a group of villagers started memorialising their heritage. The project is close to be completed: on 9 November, the 36th remembrance of the demolition of the German barrier, the Deutsch-Deutsches Museum Mödlareuth will inaugurate. It was publicly inaugurated by the federal president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in early October, but the display was not completely finished. Telling the villagers who endured the former times, Steinmeier stated: “You were bystanders of an inhuman division, which tore households into pieces and turned neighbors into aliens.”
“You were bystanders of an inhuman split, which ripped relatives into pieces and turned local residents into foreigners.”
Even at its establishment in 1810, the village spanned the Kingdom of Bavaria and the Principality of Reuss, a princely house most renowned for bestowing all its male descendants the title Heinrich and labeling them sequentially by birth order. As Steinmeier told the crowd, the oddity was never an obstacle in the path of the residents socializing in the very same pub, visiting the very same religious building and placing their children to the very same learning center.
Next arrived the global conflict. Immediately after they arrived, the Russian troops put up timber poles by the creek. For a annual period they took over the entire hamlet, setting up their command in a building on the western side, embellishing it with a portrait of Stalin and a communist symbol. The American soldiers convinced them to withdraw back over the creek. For a time, villagers could continue to cross over, though as limitations became stricter they were forced to present identity papers, although everyone was aware who they were, and to come back at after dark.
Then, in 1952, came wire fencing and the formal sealing of the boundary. In 1966, as in Berlin previously in 1961, a wall was erected, with landmines, vehicle barriers and observation points. The residents could still view each other by scaling hills, but on the east side signaling and calling out were banned. A local woman was placed on a GDR intelligence surveillance list for replying “likewise” to a West German villager who greeted her “prosperous new year”.
I heard narratives including these incidents by Robert Lebegern, the director of the museum, who has dedicated much of his working life creating it. Locals were asked at an early stage about how how long a section structure they wished to preserve. They chose a portion on the western perimeter, adjacent to where one of their own succeeded to get away in the middle of the night with a climbing device, after which the boundary was significantly strengthened.
2 watchtowers are maintained together with a set of tableaux illustrating the most dramatic dates in the community’s past. As we stroll, Robert Lebegern details the restrictions: not a single person could come within 5km of the boundary. Rural residents had to obtain special permission to tend to their fields; the husband or wife could work the combine harvester but not the pair, in case they tried to flee. Military personnel stood watch.
The border between West Germany and the East Germany ran 1,400 kilometers, from the Baltic coast in the north to here in the south. Berlin is commemorated and honored the greatest, but more than double the number individuals (well over 300) were killed attempting to traverse it in rural areas than in the metropolis. the director informs me that 95 percent of attempts to flee did not succeed.
The majority of Mödlareuth’s locals were farmers or craftsmen, who adjusted to living in the ambiguous area between a pair of ideological spheres by staying low-profile and caring for their farms. They neither supported the socialist government nor opposed it, Lebegern clarifies.
For visitors, however, the hamlet became a type of site of interest. About 15,000 came to visit each year, optical devices in possession, to stare – and then rapidly leave. In 1983, the American president, George Bush, was guided by the national security head.
25 years after unification, Tannbach, a broadcast production about a made-up village similar to Mödlareuth, resulted in renewed curiosity.
The inauguration of the recently established museum – with a cafe, store, movie theater and large vehicle area – is probable to
Lena de Vries is a Dutch food writer and recipe developer who loves blending traditional flavors with modern twists.