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Ipek Emrah holds his certificate in his hand. “Sufficient” it says – sufficient for a new life, a life that the Turkish barber will lead in Germany, as many of his fellow countrymen. A report on a special kind of marriage certificate. By Arnfrid Schenk

Three happy men and an unhappy woman are seated at a small table in the cafeteria of the Goethe-Institut in Istanbul. It is a June morning and the heat has not yet reached its full debilitating force. Through the open window we hear how tables in the countless street cafés and restaurants in the Beyoglu neighbourhood are being set. The three men devoutly hold brown A4-size envelopes in their hands; the woman’s arms are crossed in front of her. Ipek Emrah, 22 years old, skilled barber, opens his envelope and proudly removes a whitish-pink sheet. On it, we can read a small table: Listening 16 points, reading 14, writing 15, speaking 21. Total points: 66 of 100. That’s “sufficient.” He has passed the “Start Deutsch 1” examination.

It is a ticket for a new life in Germany, the country he knows so little about that he cannot picture it. But, it is also the country where his grandparents live, in Dortmund, and with them, his wife. He met and married her in Turkey and now the husband wishes to join his wife. To this end, he has been cramming German since February, attended the courses at the Goethe-Institut from 9:30 until 12:30, then repeated vocabulary in the group to understand 600 German words and be able to use 300 of them. He is supposed to be able to introduce himself, ask and answer simple questions, fill in forms – in brief: he needs to possess elementary German skills.

Those are the conditions of the provisions of the immigration laws amended in summer of 2007: no visa without a language test. In addition, spouses must be at least 18 years old. The Federal government argues that this will ease integration in Germany, enable women to have more self-determined lives and impede forced marriages. The new Immigration Act on family reunification set the Goethe-Instituts before a huge task: demand for courses and exams shot up. Approximately 62,000 “subsequently immigrating spouses” worldwide took the obligatory language test in the year 2008, most of them from Turkey, this year 5,307 already at the Goethe-Institut in Istanbul alone. Many of them are men.

“I’m not going to Germany because of the country”

The first few weeks, the queue of candidates reached down into the street, recalls Erika Broschek, director of the language department in Istanbul. In the meantime, they have set up a sort of call centre to grant examination dates. The six classrooms of the main building are no longer enough; three floors in a building near Istiklal Street had to be rented. By coincidence they are in the house in which the lyricist of the Turkish national anthem once lived.

Güngör Acar, who also passed the exam, is sitting here as well. Like the other candidates, he felt that listening and letter writing were the hardest part. He has been married for two years, his wife lives in Neu-Ulm and he in Istanbul. The truck driver has seen her seven times since then. Now, he throws his envelope in the air as if it was a mortarboard and says smiling, “I feel as if I had a Harvard diploma.” In Germany he plans to do what he does best: drive trucks. Then he rushes out to buy his teacher flowers.

“I’m not going to Germany because of the country,” says his neighbour at the table, “I’m going to Germany because my wife lives there.” There is much talk of love this morning. The woman who did not pass tries to keep a stoic face in the group and says she’ll make it next time around. Her chances are actually good. According to statistics, a good 90 percent of the internal course participants in Turkey pass the language test. Among the so-called externals, those who only take the test at Goethe, but do not attend the courses or other language schools, the failure quota is far higher.

Many are not familiar with the cities they will soon live in

In room 202, they have almost eleven more weeks until their exam. It is the second day of lessons. Twelve participants sit at tables put together to form a rectangle, the majority of them are between twenty and thirty years old, six of them are women and one wears a head scarf. On the board we read “Wie geht es Ihnen?” “Danke gut, und Ihnen?”. The teacher speaks German with her pupils, even though they do not understand everything. “Wie ist Ihre Telefonnummer?” – “0532...,” begins a pupil.

There is a map of Germany on the wall and a few cities are marked with coloured dots. “We do this because many don’t know where the towns they will soon live in are located,” explains Gülseren Güleryüz, who has taught here for two years. She comes from Essen. She moved to Istanbul because her husband prefers to live and work in Turkey. “I’m an imported bride myself,” she says and laughs. Almost all of the approximately 20 teachers that teach the starting courses have a German-Turkish background. Gülseren obtained a teaching degree for Turkish and German in Germany, completed training as a foreign language correspondence clerk and was active in integration work.

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Questions and answers about subsequent immigration of spouses on www.goethe.de (German)

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The exam already existed before the law, but the clientele has changed. While most attending the beginner courses used to be students, today they are often people with a basic educational background. “The teachers had to adapt themselves very quickly,” says Erika Broschek, the learners attention spans are not very long. “Much use is made of the sense of touch and we do a lot of singing.”

Many of the pupils are not familiar with studying and revising; they first need to learn how it’s done. They often only went to primary school, some of them not all grades and frequently they are women from rural regions.

The basic level of education makes learning a language tough enough. In addition, the learning conditions for those not living in the cities and who travel to them from the provinces and stay with relatives for the duration of the course are difficult.

Actually, Germany may be a pleasant place to live

Yet it would be incorrect to state that only the “uneducated” attend the spouse courses. Take Feray Aktag, for instance. She is 25 years old, has her A-levels and works as a dental assistant. She has long, black hair, wears white trousers and a pink T-shirt. She tells her story during the break in classroom 303. The day before, she was married in a registry office in Istanbul and afterwards celebrated in a restaurant with a small family gathering. Immediately following the exam, in two months, she wants to join her husband in Hanover, Germany. She met him in the dentist’s chair. He had come to Istanbul for the treatment that would have been too expensive in Germany.

“What is Germany like, Feray?” “It is clean and orderly, not as full as Istanbul,” she says. “But the people are not as warm, not as cordial. And the Germans don’t like Turks; they aren’t as accepted as other foreigners.” That’s what she’s heard, she says, and that she hopes to join him confidently, that they can settle in quickly, become a part of society and work as dental assistant again. Yet, she fears that her education and A-levels won’t be recognized.

When the act was made public in Germany, Turkish organizations were up in arms. Many sides criticize that it violates the basic right protecting marriages and families as well as the principle of non-discrimination, because it contains exceptions, for example for the USA and Japan. The number of immigrating spouses has already receded since 2002; between 2005 and 2008 it dropped by one fourth. In Turkey, the number of subsequently immigrating partners almost dropped by one half during this period, according to a parliamentary inquiry in the Bundestag this spring. The numbers are now gradually rising again.

“A first little network”

Claudia Hahn-Raabe, director of the Goethe-Institut in Istanbul, was also sceptical on the introduction of the new immigration law, partly because it was to be implemented from one day to the next and partly because she thought it would be better to offer language courses for this clientele once they are in Germany. In the meantime her scepticism has faded. “The people profit from these courses here,” she says, “the women in particular.” Making new acquaintances is just as important as learning the language.

The women exchange their telephone numbers and they know each other’s stories. “Consequently, in Germany they will already have confidantes, a first little network – outside of the family.” This is more important than the number of points. “We don’t only teach the language here,” adds Gülseren, “we’re like mothers. We talk about relationships, everyday problems. We’re a family.”

Arnfrid Schenk is an editor in the Opportunities department of Zeit. The article is an excerpt from the report “Wie geht es Ihnen?” in the latest issue of the Goethe-Institut magazine. You can read the entire article there as well as all sorts of interesting stories about “Languages, Identities and Integration.” For the PDF version and order form, click here.