Clemens Meyer

We were in front of the Nikolaikirche, the square was full of people and we could hardly move, but Stefan still wanted to take a couple of photos of us. He had climbed up onto a little out-jutting wall, we waved at him, and Mark waved his broom handle; he hadn’t unrolled the flag yet, he’d fastened it closed with two rubber bands. ‘Don’t want to unroll it too soon,’ he’d said, ‘not until it gets started, not until the bells ring, or we’ll lose the surprise!’ There was a flash, Stefan fumbled around with his camera and then he came down again.

‘Pretty crowded, isn’t it?’

‘Course,’ I said, ‘Much more than at the football.’

‘Bet you go to Lok,’ said Stefan, stuffing the bag in his jacket pocket and hanging his camera round his neck.

‘Are you taking the mickey? We’re Chemie fans!’

‘Oh right, I didn’t know.’

‘Everyone knows that, Jesus!’

The bells started to ring, and the people came out of the door of the church, there was a huge crush, and we moved along with the crowd towards the opera house. It was getting dark, and the cops’ blue lights were flashing in the side streets. ‘Danny!’ Mark was a couple of yards ahead of us and waved his flag at us. He’d unrolled it at last; it was a big triangular Pioneers’ pennant with the Pioneers’ emblem on both sides, and underneath it had big red letters saying: ‘We’re marching for peace and solidarity between the nations’.

I shoved my way through the crowds, Stefan and Rico close behind me. ‘We’ve gotta be a bit careful,’ said Rico, ‘mustn’t lose each other!’

‘See,’ Mark said, ‘it’s better with a flag, they’ve got one too.’ Two men in front of us unrolled a banner, putting the ends over two broom handles, the whole city had probably run out of flag poles, and holding it up. ‘We are the people’, the banner said, and I laughed.

‘Look, Rico, you seen that? We are the people.’ Rico laughed now too, one of the men turned around, and Stefan took a photo of him. The man turned back and crossed his hands in front of his face.

‘The people,’ Rico laughed, ‘I’m the people, Danny, d’you get it?’ We had got to Goethestraße now and were passing the opera house. The church bells were still ringing out; it was probably a signal, because even more people started coming towards us from Karl-Marx-Platz. Three trams were stuck at the stop. We walked along the middle of the road, with policemen on the pavements next to their cars. A couple of them had dogs. ‘Is that it?’ Rico said, ‘Just a couple of cops?’

‘There’ll be more coming,’ a man next to us said. He was holding a candle, and now he lit it. ‘Make sure you stay in the middle, don’t go to the edge.’ He wasn’t holding the candle straight, and wax dripped onto his jacket. ‘Do you want one?’

‘One what?’

‘A candle.’ He took one out of his pocket, there were more in there, I could see, he lit it on the first candle and gave it to Stefan. Rico grabbed it from him.

‘Gotta watch out for your camera.’

‘A flag and a candle,’ said Mark, ‘We’re the greatest!’ He held onto the very bottom of the broom handle and waved the flag above our heads.

‘Thanks,’ I said to the man, but he’d already gone ahead a couple of yards. Now I saw candles shining everywhere in the crowd; the guy must have been some kind of candle distributor.

‘It’s like at a lantern festival,’ said Stefan. He turned around and took a couple of photos of the people behind us.

‘Careful,’ said Rico, ‘or they’ll call the cops.’

‘No, why should they? I’ve got my membership card from the photography club.’ He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a little card in a plastic sheath. It had a passport photo of him on it, with a stamp and a signature, and on the back was a safety pin that he used to fasten it to his jacket.

‘Jesus, take it off,’ said Mark, waving his flag. ‘It’s embarrassing!’

‘No, I’m like from the paper, I’m allowed to take photos, photography club, you know!’

‘What a biter,’ Rico whispered in my ear and grinned. We’d reached the square outside the station. There were cops everywhere now, in front of the station and on the other side of the road, standing in a row in front of their cars. They were wearing helmets and their shields were like a wall. ‘Water canons,’ said Rico, ‘look at that, worse than at the football!’ There they were, next to the station, like tanks.

‘Shit,’ I said, ‘What if they start spraying?’

‘Don’t think they will,’ said Rico, ‘too many people.’ Stefan was taking photos; he had switched off the flash and was turning the lens at the front.

‘Night shots,’ he said. ‘Flashing blue lights and candles, they’re gonna be great!’