Bad Water in Germany

Bad Water is Bad News

Not a good omen, I thought. If this was the welcome greeting, I didn’t like it. A sign hung on the bathroom door of the dorm. It said the water was bad. Three awkward days followed. Then I tripled my German vocabulary.

Leaving Home

It was many years ago. Bangladesh had only just emerged from a bloody war of independence. Its founding leader had recently been assassinated. I had just graduated from high school. Times were uncertain.

Quite out of the blue, I saw a small notice in a newspaper: a scholarship to study Chemistry in East Germany. I hadn’t studied German and never considered Chemistry. I made a hasty decision – totally unanticipated, and against my parents’ wishes. I applied anyway. Within a month, I was accepted.

Within weeks, I was on an Interflug turboprop, headed for Berlin. It was my first flight, and my first journey abroad ever. As if that were not enough, I was going to a country where I did not know anyone and whose language I did not speak.

But I was prepared - as well as I could be. I had a small suitcase, carefully packed with things my mother had thought I’d need. She herself had never left her country. And I had 50 U.S. dollars – my emergency fund – tucked in a pouch tied around my chest.

I have never been adventurous. And yet, looking back, I recall no fear, no doubt, no apprehension. Youth, lacking life’s experience, must resort to ignorance. Sometimes, it even works.

In those days, traveling abroad was still a novelty. That meant a festive farewell at the airport. My extended family had gathered at Tejgaon International airport. They bade me goodbye with much fanfare. After the formalities, I walked out on the tarmac to the plane.

On my way, I looked back. I saw my family waving at me from the rooftop visitor platform. I remember it was a beautiful, sunny September day. But I don’t remember noticing my mother’s grief. Who can tell whether that was a failing on my part or a blessing?

I climbed up the gangway into the plane, found my seat, and buckled up, waiting impatiently for my maiden flight. I had a window seat. I was mesmerized by the view as we took off. First the airport, then the city, and finally the country of my birth became smaller and smaller - and then disappeared altogether.

All the while, I remained blissfully unaware of a quiet truth: once you step out of a stream, you can never return to the same stream again.

Free Grapes and Culture Shift

Memories of the flight are sketchy now. But I remember the breathtaking view of the Hindu Kush Mountains in the warm glow of a late afternoon sun. Our first stopover was in Tashkent. As the plane refueled, we waited in the transit lounge. There were free snacks! That’s where I got my first culture shock.

I could eat as many grapes as I liked.

In my mind, grapes were associated with being sick. They don’t grow in Bangladesh and must be imported. They were expensive. That’s why, I suppose grapes had a special healing power. Things may be different today.

The next stop was Moscow – Moscow Sheremetyevo International Airport. We arrived shortly after midnight. I had to wait several hours for the connecting flight, in a quiet and deserted transit hall.

Suddenly, chatter and laughter broke the silence and pulled me from my stupor. A group of middle-aged cleaning women had arrived.

It may sound trivial, but I was struck by how different they looked compared to Bangladesh.

Clearly, things are going to be different from now on. A harbinger of what was to come?

​

Berlin to Leipzig

Then another long flight to Berlin - this time with Aeroflot. We arrived in Berlin Schönefeld at the crack of dawn. By then, everything was a blur. I vaguely remember someone from the Herder-Institut being there - taking care of immigration formalities.

I was headed to Leipzig, where I would first learn the German language at the Herder-Institut, before going on to study chemistry at a university.

The final leg was a long train ride from Berlin to Leipzig. A Bangladeshi student who had arrived the year before came to accompany me.

We rode for several more hours. Bleary-eyed, I watched the landscape drift past the window – a gray countryside punctuated by small towns; occasionally stopping at a somber, deserted train station in the early morning light.

Arrival and Confusion

Finally, we reached Leipzig. The senior student took me to the dormitory at Herder-Institut. He arranged the formalities and left. He was a physics student in the nearby city of Halle.

The long journey and the jet lag had taken their toll. I was happy to finally settle in and rest.

Then I saw the ominous sign.

It was on the door of the dorm’s bathroom. It showed a running showerhead, with the word “Bad” scrawled across it. Naturally, I assumed something was wrong with the water. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to use it?

I couldn’t ask anyone. The semester hadn’t started yet, and few students were around. Even if they were, they probably wouldn’t speak English. This was East Germany in the 1970s.

Fortunately, I spotted another dorm across the cobblestoned street. I collected my towel and toiletries, walked across, and used that bathroom instead.

And so began my awkward daily ritual. Towel in hand, crossing the cobblestones like a fugitive. Every day I was grateful winter hadn’t arrived yet - all the while wondering when someone was finally going to fix the water.

Vocabulary x3

On the third day, the senior Bangladeshi student came to check on me. I told him of my misery. He burst out laughing.

Then I got my first lesson in German. It came in three parts:

First, “Bad“ means bath in German.

Second, Bad is neuter, so its definite article is “das“.

Third, stern advice - never learn a German noun without its gender.

The third piece of advice was priceless. Anyone who has learned German will understand why. For everyone else, I can only recommend The Awful German Language by Mark Twain.

And just like that, I tripled my German vocabulary. Until then, the single German word I knew was Achtung - thanks to dog-eared, WWII comic books I used to buy from used bookstores in Dhaka.

• New to this publication? Read here what it is all about: WELCOME to Outsights of a Conspecific

• You might also enjoy A review of Lütten Klein and why many East Germans still feel they were absorbed, not united: German Reunification – The Eastern Perspective

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