Germany Wolfen 25 March 2024 On the 16th of January this year, precisely a day after my birthday, I left Sakartvelo and surrendered myself to the brisk embrace of Germany. By that time, not even a year had passed since my departure from Russia, yet I had already changed two countries. Sakartvelo, in any case, was never perceived as a country I wanted to stay in for long, despite the fact that Kutaisi and my battered apartment there had become dear to me: the authorities of Sakartvelo with enviable regularity deny entry to political activists with Russian citizenship after a "visa run," which had already happened to at least two of my friends. Two years after the onset of Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine and the accompanying adventures tied to my political persecution by Russian authorities for my anti-war statements and human rights activities, I yearned to finally take a breath and settle in a peaceful place where I could soberly contemplate my future plan of action for the "Life of René Coignard" project. Due to the war, my planning horizon had been reduced to a mere week, sometimes even just a few days or hours. However, after moving to Germany, the planning horizon expanded to five years: precisely the time required to live here to obtain citizenship. Yes, I want to acquire German citizenship. Initially, I planned to emigrate to France, but the local authorities dragged their feet for too long processing my application for a humanitarian visa (issued to citizens of the Russian Federation who are persecuted in their home country on political grounds; legally not considered and in no way connected to asylum). In contrast, the German Federal Foreign Office (Auswärtiges Amt) processed my application much more swiftly. In just six months, indeed. Honestly, I had all but forgotten about the humanitarian visa when I received a message from the German Federal Foreign Office stating that it had finally been approved. This happened just a couple of weeks after I parted ways with my beloved, and to this day, the situation seems to carry a certain comedic twist: just as I began to recover from the sudden blow, the Universe seemed to pat me on the shoulder and say, "Well, things happen. Here, take this humanitarian visa and go to Germany, cheer up." As if offering candy to a crying child, just to alleviate their sorrow. I immediately filled out the visa application and took it to the German consulate in Tbilisi. A month of waiting, a couple more appointments (or "Termin" as the Germans call it) and voilà: a consulate officer hands me my passport, now adorned with a shiny new Type "D" multi-visa valid for three months. Around the same time, I learned that I had been allocated to the town of Bitterfeld-Wolfen in the state of Saxony-Anhalt, using the "Königstein key." The "Königstein key" is a method for distributing refugees across Germany, ensuring an even spread across the federal states based on tax revenue and population size, which is quite logical. Incidentally, my chance of being allocated to Saxony-Anhalt was a mere 2.75%, and it was far more likely for me to end up in North Rhine-Westphalia, where 21 out of 100 are allocated. But of course, that makes sense: it's the western part of Germany, with a correspondingly larger budget. At the time of writing this note, I have already navigated all the bureaucracy due upon my arrival in Germany: I've registered my residence, arranged health insurance, opened a bank account, and even secured a residence permit for three years. Despite many warnings about the voluminous paperwork here, I didn't feel a high entry barrier into German bureaucracy, particularly because, back in Russia, I had dealt with even greater volumes of bureaucratic tasks. On the contrary, in a burst of enthusiasm, I even sent a few letters to the local archive to learn more about the history of the city where I had settled. The archival staff were delighted by my sudden interest and responded in detail to my queries. Let's talk about that. First and foremost, I was curious about the meaning and origin of the word "Anhalt" in the names "Sachsen-Anhalt" and "Anhalt-Bitterfeld." It turns out that the name "Anhalt" traces back to a namesake ancestral castle of the Ascanians, located near Harzgerode. Initially, I assumed that "Anhalt" could be literally translated as "stop," which in a historical context would be synonymous with "encampment." This turned out to be the case: Anhalt is derived from the late Middle High German anhalt "stopping point" - a topographic name for someone living near a slope "an" (at) + "halt" (hillside). As for Bitterfeld-Wolfen, the city where I settled, things are not so straightforward either: initially, I thought that "Bitterfeld" literally meant "bitter land," but no: Bitterfeld is a Flemish settlement (i.e., Dutch), and the first syllable in the city's name could be a Dutch male name: "Piet". Thus, the historical location could refer to Pieters Feld (German: Peters Feld/Acker). It might also be a nod to the nearby villages of Petersroda and Petersberg. Moreover, the prefix "Bitter" could derive from the Dutch word "better" (I think there is no need and even possibility to translate this word, its meaning is obvious). Thus, Betterfeld (Besserfeld) could have been a fertile area that existed here in times past. Regarding Wolfen, this name relates to the surname of its founder. Until 2007, Wolfen was an independent town, but later it was annexed to Bitterfeld (along with the communities of Greppin, Holzweißig, and Thalheim) and became its district, with the city being renamed Bitterfeld-Wolfen. Wolfen is first mentioned in the writing Wulffen in a feudal charter around 1400. Archaeological findings date the founding of Wolfen to the mid-12th century, thus to the main period of German conquest. It is assumed that the founder of Wolfen bore a personal name starting with Wolf. According to the Saxon dialect of the Low German language spoken in the region at the time, it should have started with Wulff. An interesting fact: Wolfen has a twin town in Russia - Dzerzhinsk. There's also one in France: Villefontaine. The current population of Wolfen is a mere 15,000 people, which is quite noticeable: after moving here, I often found myself wandering the city for several hours without seeing a soul on its streets. I can't say that this depresses me; on the contrary: I rather enjoy it. Only occasionally do I feel a bit forlorn when I'm in the Wolfen-Nord area: there, the DDR atmosphere is well preserved with its countless concrete high- rises, which often trigger flashbacks of life in Russia. Incidentally, all these high-rises were mainly constructed for the workers of the "Wolfen" film factory, built by Agfa in 1909 and manufacturing photographic film. Interestingly, colour film was invented right here in Wolfen, in 1936, but then the patent was confiscated by American forces in 1945 and handed over to the American company Kodak. After the war, film production continued and in 1953 was handed over to the DDR as the VEB Film- und Chemiefaserwerk Agfa Wolfen. In 1964, the brand name was changed from Agfa to ORWO (Original Wolfen). In 1994, the entire factory was liquidated. The Wolfen-Nord district is typical of so-called satellite towns in Eastern Germany, characterized by prefabricated buildings and, since 1990, suffering from unemployment, high levels of vacant housing, and emigration. Wolfen-Nord was built between the 1960s and 1980s primarily for the working population of all classes from the Wolfen film factory, the Bitterfeld chemical complex, the Bitterfeld pipe factory, and other industrial and educational sectors. From about 33,000 residents (in 1993), by the end of 2008, just over 11,000 remained. Vacant housing became the district's biggest issue as people moved to more attractive areas. This is precisely why I encountered no problems finding accommodation here. Although some of my friends do not share my peculiar affection for this city, the chapter of my life titled "Germany" opened for me on the pages of this city called Wolfen, and I am very glad that by the structure of the moment, I ended up precisely in this corner of the infinite Universe. Copyright (c) 2024 contact@renecoignard.com Powered by Weblog v1.17.7