23. A Schwäbisch Summer

I carried my suitcases with a sense of expectation and openness to a new experience as I flew to Munich to begin my journey to south Germany near Lake Constance (Bodensee). I caught a couple of trains to Tettnang, thankful that I understood enough German to talk to people on the way and work out the right connections and finally caught a bus to Pfingstweid. At the old age facility, I was met by Frau Deierling at the door of their living quarters and welcomed in to meet the housefather, Herr Günther Deierling who would show me the ropes. My room was above the kitchen area and the 105 residents were in their own sections, some on their own, others in smaller clusters. Around half of the dozen or so staff were also residents, others came in daily from the nearby village.

I first met the other staff at the evening meal, abend brot. I was confused to discover that in spite of two years of German lessons, I could hardly understand a thing in the Schwäbisch dialect. One lady pushed a bowl towards me and said what sounded like, “Wilsh quarg?” It took me some time to realise she was offering me quark, a thick yoghurt-like cheese to eat. It was delicious and my lesson in the southern dialect began. I took my cues from the prevailing gestures and interactions of others.

Fairly early the next morning I met Herr Kugel, the chief carer, who also lived on the property with his wife. We routinely made rounds in the morning to wake up the residents - all men when I was there - and make sure they would get dressed and be ready for breakfast. Most of them could do that themselves, a few needed help. One man would habitually sleep with his back near the edge of the bed, and when we entered his room to wake him up, he would, without fail, be startled and turn with a flourish and fall on the floor. It didn’t seem to bother him or make him change his way of sleeping and we would have a good laugh together as we helped him up every morning. 

All of the residents had mental or physical health challenges and would regularly see a psychiatrist who prescribed medications. Maybe because I was studying psychology, Herr Kugel would measure out the medications with me and together we would dispense the medications at breakfast, according to the written script. We had to be careful about this, but I do remember some occasions when Herr Kugel trusted me to dispense the medication on my own and I would have to show him what I had done. On one occasion I had given a man (diagnosed as a schizophrenic) a tablet and the next morning he told me about the wonderful dreams and vision he had had. I realised I had mixed up his medication and had to let Herr Kugel know about this and also apologise to the patient. Herr Kugel was understanding, but extra careful about overseeing my work after that and the patient seemed to rather enjoy his experience. From my part, I got a fright and made doubly-sure I did not do that again. 

Seeman Jobs was a man who had spent his working life in the boiler room of ships at sea. It appears most of his shipmates spoke Cockney English, so he learnt to speak that way as well. I was extremely surprised to hear his Cockney accent the first time I talked to him. While he was doing his activities in the occupational therapy sessions, he spoke fluently and quite descriptively about his life at sea. Some of the residents were quite young and found the protective community necessary. A few people had jobs in the village nearby and stayed at the facility as they needed help in managing their epileptic conditions. Some men enjoyed working in the vegetable garden and others preferred bricklaying.

One man could not really communicate with words. I’ll call him Hans and his story was quite tragic. Born with intellectual disabilities, his parents were so ashamed of him that they told everyone he had died. Meanwhile, they put him in the barn, and his only companions were the horses and other animals. Hans would neigh like a horse, ate his food directly out of a plate, and had developed frost-bite on some of his digits during the bitter-cold months. His skin was coarse and thick and when we showered him in the evenings, he absolutely loved any hose being put on him and neighed with pleasure. His own brother did not even know Hans existed. At some point, when he was eventually discovered, his brother was horrified. This brother of his regularly visited Hans in the home, but did not really know how to relate to him. When the brother came, I would sit with the two of them and I would try to teach the brother how to communicate with him by physical contact while we talked, keeping our voices steady. Hans would recognise and respond to touch that was affirming. Over the years, his story has often caused me to reflect on the incapacity of some people to accept and love those with mental or developmental disabilities. 

I had some weekends off and would often walk past the hopfen fields to Friedrickshafen on the shores of the lake. Hopfen Beer was of course a vital product of southern Germany. There were all sorts of fascinating stalls, shops and markets in the town and I could enjoy a meal out and watch people go by. My ability to communicate in the dialect grew as I used it wherever I could. 

One of the kitchen staff, by the name of Heidi, was from Switzerland and she had a VW beetle. On occasion, when we both had time off, she would drive me to see the sights and meet some of her friends. Half way through my time, she took me to Switzerland and dropped me at the station her her home so I could go and visit Brenda who was working as a cook at a children’s holiday facility near Vallorbe for her summer vacation. We had a few days together and were given a little chalet to catch up with each other. She spoke French, but also learnt some German from the children attending the camp.

Another opportunity to explore a bit more of Germany came up after Herr Kugel had left the care facility. He returned to Pfortzheim with his family and I went to visit them, and took a round-trip to Heidelberg as well where the German was more ‘as I had originally learned it’. 

Towards the end of my time, when Brenda completed her commitments at the holiday camp, she came to visit me at the old age care home and stayed with the Deierling family. 

A day or two later, we were both able to go on a dumpfer, (ferry), as we crossed the lake to Romanshorn when we met up with Mom’s cousin Renee and Ernst Ellenberger from Cape Town. They reminded me of a time when I was two years old and they were on the boat with us to Lebanon. They were nervous wrecks worrying about whether I would fall overboard as I was so active. We slept the night in Heiden with some friends of theirs and met a real, dirty, chimney-sweet and it was evidently seen as a good omen.  Together with them, we visited Appenzell in Switzerland, including the Pestalozzi school community, which I found fascinating. The area is where some of our ancestors came from. I then left them and went by funicular down the mountain on my way home. Brenda meanwhile headed toward L’Abri and met Frances Schaeffer as well as a number of her friends. 

Before leaving, I was asked to help orientate a couple of carers who came to help. One man was a dramatic person from Sierra Leone and the other man was from Germany and more contained. I accompanied them on the rounds and showed them the ropes as Herr Kugel had taught me.

I learnt a lot from those months at the old-age care facility. I had my first experience of being present to hold the hand of an older man who took his last breath. It was a deeply touching moment.  I also saw that every resident had a preferred or habitual way of doing things and I learnt to care for each one appropriately. I had often imagined I wanted to do something ‘like my dad’, be the incisive teacher or preacher that he was, but I discovered how much like my mother I actually was. Caring for others  in practical and loving ways is a part of me I discovered there. I often refer to those months as an absolute highlight of my life. To this day, I am happy spending time accompanying those who want to talk or just have someone be beside them, listening, reflecting and helping them work on a way forward in their own way and time.