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My mother gave birth to me here, in front of this railroad crossing.
In an ambulance.
Grandmother helped her.
On a warm July night in 1947.
My childhood home in the suburb of Planitz housed miners
who hewed coal for the local coking plant.
Today, Zwickau's mines are closed down and the coal is imported.
My mother turned 27 that day.
In her diary she wrote:
"What a wonderful birthday present you are!
Dad's very happy, even though you're not the son he wanted."
Is your chest tattooed as well? Can you show me?
Go on, then!
Terrific! And your back as well?
What kind of women are they?
Beautiful women.
At the age of 19 I left this town to go my own way:
I learned a trade, got married, got divorced.
I took a furnished room, found varying but intensive work.
I found a steady job, had my daughter, married again.
I studied while raising a child, got divorced again.
I was determined to do meaningful work.
I know many women whose anxieties and longings I share.
The self-assurance of my almost-adult daughter disconcerts me
yet fills me with hope.
It's already lit up.
So we ride into the mine.
Into the mine.
Fast train to Sassnitz Hafen
via Altenburg, Leipzig, Berlin, Neubrandenburg and Rügendamm.
All aboard and shut the doors. Exercise caution while the train departs.
GOODBYE WINTER
At the age of 40 I set out once again from the town of my childhood
to discover how others have lived and how they want to live.
During my travels we'll talk to each other, at work and at home,
both by appointment and by chance.
Sometimes we'll just look at them,
the women and girls of this country.
We've arranged to travel with Hiltrud Kuhlmann.
She's 42 and works in advertising. She lives in Berlin.
Everyone calls her "Hillu."
Well, I have so many kids, and they're all so different.
So it's really interesting.
Uwe came first. I had him with my first husband.
The marriage didn't last. It ended after nine years.
Then... - Nine years is a long time. - Yes. - Unfortunately?
Can we start again? - Just keep on talking!
Just carry on. - It was a stupid marriage.
I think my upbringing prevented me from getting out of it at the right time. Pity!
What kind of upbringing? What was your childhood like?
There were six of us kids, and our father was extremely authoritarian.
I love him very much, in spite of that,
and I'm definitely often unfair to my mother.
And the different feelings I have for them...
I simply can't explain them. They just are.
And the authoritarian atmosphere at home made our dad always seem to be in the right.
And I probably projected that onto my marriage.
I was 19. Uwe was born when I was 20.
It took me years to free myself from the idea
that the father or the husband came first.
How did that affect your marriage?
In real terms. - Well, you know...
With Braatz... That was my first husband's surname.
I always called him Braatz.
I slept with him once, got pregnant,
and spent the next two or three years
telling myself that he was the love of my life,
that this was the real thing.
And I suppose I was afraid of admitting defeat to my family,
or to myself. We all have our motives.
But it pretty soon became apparent
that the two of us had different hopes and expectations.
Then I was single for a while.
I wasn't single, really. I met a guy I'd dated briefly before I was married.
He was a bachelor and glad that I was available again.
And he moved right in!
I really don't know what I was playing at:
straight into the next relationship!
Humans must be built that way:
always looking for something to hold on to.
But it didn't work out. It wasn't my fault, I got along with him.
But he and Uwe just weren't compatible.
I can see now that I expected too much of him.
I just thought he'd feel the same way about Uwe as I did.
But he didn't. Why would he? But that's what I expected.
And when reality doesn't match your rosy dreams
things come to a head pretty quickly all on their own. It's inevitable.
Then I took a break and was alone with Uwe for two years.
But it wasn't a bad time. We did a lot of stuff together.
You don't have to consider anyone else, you can do what you like.
Finally, we got to a point where we were looking for a new partner.
And I said: "OK, we'll only look for a man who has a child."
I wanted to give and receive in equal measure.
And this whole business seemed to be extremely important to me.
I didn't want to go through the whole father-husband routine again.
Because I recognized how unfair I'd been. Fine: a man with a child.
So we checked the newspaper ads for ages and ages.
And then I wrote to someone. - What was the ad like?
How was it worded? - It's such a long time ago...
He was looking for a woman who was active and well-proportioned.
"Well-proportioned" put me off at first, but then I thought: "Hell, just write to him!"
And he had a child? - He did. I only wrote to him because of that.
He replied, I called him, we met, took a look at each other.
It's a weird situation, but if you don't take it too seriously, it's fine.
We took a look at each other and decided to meet again the next day.
We already knew everything was OK.
The beginning I found very positive, if you can say that.
I was on cloud nine, deeply in love with my Peter,
my new husband.
I was totally besotted!
Completely passionate. It was beautiful.
And of course,
everything else was important too but played second fiddle.
As important as Uwe had been to me,
my relationship with him was never the same again.
And I never built up a relationship like that with my new daughter Beate either.
Because the early period was so dominated by Peter and me.
Because we had so much...
to tell each other, so much to do together.
We both made new friends through each other.
We were incredibly active, as a family, too, of course.
But the hermetically sealed mother-son unit I'd had before
was no longer the same.
The extremely close relationship I'd had with my son was gone.
I really did want to extend our family,
but the difficulty of doing that soon became apparent
because little Beate was very different from me.
She had a right to be different: people are the way they are.
And, of course, she'd experienced things that had left their mark on her.
So I still find it difficult... A deer! A deer!
There, look! - Where? Oh!
I still find it very difficult to treat the two children absolutely equally.
And that worries me.
So that sometimes...
my rational side and my emotions are at odds with each other.
Tell me again: Why and when did you decide to have a child together?
Right away. After all, I was already 33. Time was running out.
And I really wanted a child from my Peter, and he wanted that, too.
So I stopped taking the pill and in no time I was pregnant.
That really was a lovely time.
The pregnancy was lovely. No complications.
When Uwe was 14
he helped out at discos in an orphanage.
And he soon brought Heidi home with him.
Their relationship wasn't all that serious, they were both only 14.
That's normal. And it was over pretty quickly.
But what remained was Heidi. She felt at home in our family
and having another person didn't bother me either.
I'd grown up in a family with lots of kids, so it was completely normal for me.
Heidi was there at weekends and in the holidays, too.
She'd bring other kids from her orphanage along too,
so we got to know a lot of them.
I think we're an important part of our Heidi's life.
And that during those years
we gave her a family life and lots of warmth and support,
which she didn't get in her orphanage.
They're really sad, those orphanages.
But their relationship picked up again bit by bit when they were 17.
Heidi said she and Uwe were going to try again.
I said: "Bring your sleeping bag, move in with Uwe and give it a try."
I don't think the other kids will have it that easy, but she was family.
So they tried again.
But we were continually shocked by the coarse tone between young people nowadays.
It was very different to our idea of love and the whole courtship process.
Heidi got an apartment at 18, Uwe joined the army.
And the two of them, well, I don't know...
They often argued with each other due to their different expectations of life.
We even said: "Pack it in!"
But no, they wanted a child,
so that Uwe could love it from the distance of the army barracks,
and so that Heidi would have something of her own at last.
And as idiotic as it seemed to us,
and although we foresaw endless difficulties, they went ahead and had a son, Paul.
So we had little Paul, but the relationship between Uwe and Heidi didn't last.
But it's complicated: she's still our child number four.
I feel very maternal feelings towards her,
and I'm very sad if she doesn't call. I call her sometimes, she calls me, too...
But she doesn't visit so often now because her relationship with Uwe is difficult.
And I really, really want
to keep an eye on how Paul develops.
Because Heidi has her own problems to overcome.
So I always try to keep an eye on how he's developing.
But I know I can't influence it.
But her time in the orphanage left its mark on her, I'd say.
And in some respects it's left her incapable of relating to things
that we don't have any problems with.
She's always going to find it difficult
to allow herself to experience a genuinely deep, loving relationship.
She found it difficult with Paul at first,
and it's been the same with all her partners as well.
How's your marriage now? Are there conflicts? Are you still in love?
Well, the great passion changes over time. Daily life detracts from it.
Sometimes you wish it were otherwise,
that this initial energy would return.
But it's still a good partnership.
I need my Peter, he needs me.
The children are growing and growing with us and feel secure.
Uwe now lives in his own apartment and...
And he's actually pretty contented, but he visits us a lot...
I'd like to add that Uwe is really my best friend.
Hillu's journey isn't over.
While waiting for her connection in Altenburg, she talks about her job.
She's assistant director of the state advertising organization in Berlin.
I'm often unhappy about advertising not having the status it deserves.
I fight for it and often get angry.
So I was especially pleased when the director and I were the two people in our collective
to be awarded the Banner of Labor, 1st class.
I must say I was very pleased. Not just for my sake, for us all.
And when we were there in the hall, I got butterflies from all the excitement
and from being in such an unusual situation.
But then I started to think about it
and was shocked at how few women were there. I couldn't get over it.
The whole room was full of men.
This is an estimate,
but I'd say there were about 300 people getting an award, maybe 350.
And, at a guess, I'd say five percent at the most were women.
I thought: Why so many men?
There were people there from all branches of industry, but so few women!
I thought: Women do their share of the hard work, too.
But who collects the medals? The men do! Incredible!
I kept muttering to my male colleagues: "Where are the women? Where?"
I was the only woman from my collective, too.
I couldn't believe it at all. But that's by the by.
Then it started. I was really excited!
And then everyone got up. I don't know how it happened, we all just followed suit.
Everyone turned, you just do what the others do, and in the middle was a broad aisle.
Comrade Schabowski came down it, together with other important officials,
such as his deputy, and others, who we didn't know.
Everyone turned to them and paid tribute to them.
Then they took their places in the front row.
And the ceremony began. But somehow I was shocked.
Maybe it's as it should be and I don't know my way around,
but I have to say that it filled me with pride to be part of it,
particularly as a representative of my fellow advertisers.
Everyone went up in turn. Me, too. And then the ceremony was over.
Everyone got up, turned to the aisle,
Comrade Schabowski and the committee left the hall,
and then we were able to chat with each other or go eat from the cold buffet, and so on.
But I was really shocked. I thought: Is this a monarchy or what? It was unbelievable.
We were all there to be honored, so why all that? What was it all about?
You simply had to ask yourself why.
That was that. Then we returned to our offices and the ceremony there was lovely.
I was the only woman. It was lovely!
Do you like working with women?
Yes. I like working with men too, but I must say that I feel great solidarity with women
and that I have a lot of understanding for child-mother problems,
home-keeping problems, and so on.
And a lot of them are single mothers and need a lot of understanding.
And I think I've found a happy medium for dealing with these things:
I recognize their problems, I expect and get high performance
and am rarely disappointed by women.
But also because I open up to women. I show my problems, too.
And I believe that things can only work this way.
It's all about being honest.
I like working with women. If there's one at a meeting, I sit next to her.
I think: Together we're strong!
And it's an approach that's served me well.
I'm always interested in women and their problems,
and in seeing what's behind the facade.
It never fails to surprise me
that everyone has their problems and baggage.
I've never met a woman who was really standoffish.
They all have their problems and are glad to talk about them,
and that brings you closer. As I've said, I like working with women.
WOMEN'S LUCK BY FRANCA RAME / DARIO FO
Ladies!
Meet the men with tenderness, we always say.
Remember to charm the men.
You should be able to twist them around your little finger.
Are you all ready for the usual start?
Go!
Go ahead.
I'll just close this.
Good!
Turn and forwards!
Now you're getting into the swing of things!
It was boring at first!
Forwards, sideways, stop!
Forwards, sideways and turn to the right!
Left! Put your right foot forward!
Left! Now left foot back, right foot forward!
Right! That's it!
Sideways, tutu, sideways!
Right!
Don't look down. You'll make him nervous!
Right, and...
Sideways to the right, sideways to the left.
And right and left.
Right, left.
Laugh, girl! You always laugh so cutely.
And one...
and two...
And one, two and one...
One, sideways, heads to the left!
That was '49, so I would've been 34 years old.
That petticoat belonged to my grandmother.
Beautiful cambric with little frills.
It was worth far more than the dress on top of it.
It was a net curtain that used to hang in this room.
It was given a good wash and starched and made into our competition outfit.
It would be unthinkable today!
My husband's wearing a tailcoat. We got the fabric on the black market.
It was incredibly expensive, cost 300 marks back then,
which was an unbelievable sum in those days.
And stockings were also important...
Of course. In those days we didn't wear tights.
So you had to wear long stockings because the skirt swirled up so high.
But I didn't wear stockings most of the time.
I have naturally quite brown skin,
so I simply danced barefoot in my shoes.
Were you able to continue during the war?
No. Well, we carried on until early '43. Then the school was closed.
It was total war then.
We had to finish here.
My husband was in the army hospital,
so we had a bit of time to go and visit him.
That was in...
That was over in Thuringia.
But then at that time
we had a lot of our relatives lodging with us.
I was the mother of eight children,
of whom Edda, at six years old, was the eldest.
You have eight children? - No, just three.
I looked after the children of my husband's relatives from East Prussia as well.
One of their mothers was very sick
and the other was traumatized.
So I looked after eight children. They were a delight!
And here in this room, all the way over to the other room,
we put on Punch and Judy shows with them, I took all eight of them for walks.
Although sometimes there'd be air raids and I'd pile them into the pram.
There were two babies: I was still breastfeeding Henning.
Those were turbulent years. - When did dancing start again?
It was in '45... No, '46.
We were allowed to re-open the school.
I was alone at first, because my husband was still ill.
And then my husband joined me and we started dancing busily.
Sideways to the right,
sideways to the left,
turn to the right, that's it!
Liselotte Schaller, 73 years old,
runs Germany's oldest dance school, in Altenburg.
The Schaller School of Dance has taught dance and etiquette for almost 150 years.
FURNACE ROOM
Christine Schiele, 37 years old,
lives with her two children in Meuselwitz near Altenburg.
She has worked shifts at this briquette factory for ten years.
How often do you go round hammering the flues each day?
I go round eight times. - Every hour? - Every hour.
And what's the purpose of hitting the flues with a hammer?
It ensures that there's no build-up of coal dust in the flues.
This stops flashfires from occurring.
It stops the very fine coal dust from settling in the flues.
It prevents the dust from settling and building up inside the flues
and allows it to be drawn upwards and expelled via the chimneys.
That keeps the flues clear.
Did you go with your mother to market when you were small?
No, I had to help out at home.
I had to help look after the animals on the farm.
We had a farm with crops and livestock.
First came school.
I'd go to school, then afterwards I'd work in the garden,
from spring through summer.
Then I had to see to the animals.
We had goats, rabbits, geese, ducks and pigs, and I had to feed them all.
I had to do my homework first,
and then I had to fetch the feed for the animals
or walk around outside with them
so that, say, the geese and the ducks got to eat some greens.
All that kept me busy until bedtime, and in the mornings I went to school.
After school I'd do the shopping, do my homework
and then see to the garden or the animals again.
Do you have any brothers or sisters? - A younger brother.
He was born in '51, I was born in '49.
And he just went his own way.
He was never made to help much.
He wouldn't help with the bees either, because he was afraid of getting stung.
I helped my dad feed the bees and, in summer, to extract the honey.
And my brother,
he could pursue his pastimes pretty much as he pleased.
He used to just roam around.
But you always had to help out? - I always had to help out.
My brother did, too, but not to the same extent as me.
How long did you go to school? - I went to school for eight years
but only passed seventh grade because I struggled in math
and because my mom didn't have the patience with me.
Having to do all the housework really used to stress her out,
so she didn't have the patience with me.
So I had to repeat the seventh grade.
And what did you do then? - I trained as a gardener, but only semi-skilled.
I did a gardening apprenticeship in Altenburg.
It's actually a crematorium but it has a greenhouse, too.
And there I did 18 months training as a semi-skilled gardener.
And then I moved up north to my husband.
I'd met him on holiday, through work.
We had a trailer by the Baltic Sea, in Dierhagen.
I was up there with a female colleague and that's when I met him.
I carried on living here for a year and then I moved up to Dierhagen.
How old were you when you met your husband? - I was 17 at the time.
I stayed down here at my parents' till I was 18,
and then I moved up north to my future husband's.
When did you get married? - We...
We got married at Easter on...
on the 3rd...
on April 3, 1969.
That's right, at Easter: April 3, 1969.
And when was your first child born? - On January 12, 1969.
That was when.
On January 12, 1969, my daughter was born,
and we got married on April 3, in 1969.
That was how things went.
Considered from my perspective,
I think we were too young, it didn't work out well.
We'd only been married for a year before I filed for divorce.
We were too young and inexperienced. We wanted to enjoy our own lives.
We wanted our freedom, for ourselves.
We didn't want that kind of commitment.
At her husband's request, Christine withdrew her divorce suit. She got pregnant again.
In February '72 she had a son and moved back to Altenburg with both children.
The divorce went through in 1973.
Christine's 18-year-old daughter
was officially declared mentally handicapped this year.
She is prone to bouts of aggression.
Ramona, let's turn that down.
Leave it like that.
It's disturbing us here!
Go outside! - You're disturbing us. Keep it down.
I won't turn it down. - Just for ten minutes.
Christine, what worries and fears do you have?
My fear concerning my daughter
is that she won't return the love
that I try to give her.
I love my son too.
And then, the uncertain future
that I feel I'm facing
because of the situation with my daughter.
It's a thought...
that I can't shake off
because you've given birth to a child who's a part of you,
but who you have to reject,
who you have part with to a certain degree...
and who you'll have to take into consideration for all your life.
What would you wish for in the future? What do you most want?
I'd like to find someone
who's interested in training dogs, which is something I'm involved in,
who loves animals just as much as I do,
and who can understand what I've been through
and what my situation is.
Someone who can help me get back on track
when I've lost hope.
Do you have someone who is tender to you?
No, nobody, nobody. Because of my daughter...
the situation has come about
that people make fun of me too,
that I'm seen as a sick individual too.
Don't you be talking about me! You hear?
And that people display no understanding for such a situation.
They have no understanding.
You're just treated like women were in the old days,
when they'd had an abortion, which was something bad.
You're in a situation where as a person
you're good for nothing, thought worthless,
and thought so low by people around
who don't see what's going on deep inside you...
But you didn't give away your child. You raised her in spite of her illness.
But that's not really accepted or valued in our society.
People consider you unfit,
not capable of raising your children...
or of giving them everything that others have got,
that others experience.
For that reason you're rejected, you're an outcast,
for having a child that's a burden.
And so that's how it is, in their eyes.
Where do you draw the strength from? There's often conflict with your daughter.
Firstly, from my son,
because he gives me a lot of love and understanding,
both for his sister and for me.
And he can be very sympathetic, very sensitive.
I take strength from that.
Because he's capable of sharing joy,
and gives me emotional support
and helps me get back on my feet.
Do you have a dream?
Yes.
Sort of, but...
Dreams about the kind of things you'd like to happen
but which don't actually come true in real life. - What are your dreams?
My old hobby was horse riding with my husband.
I'd like to travel a lot,
I'd like to learn about other countries, other peoples and their customs.
That's financially impossible at present.
DOLLS' HOSPITAL TOYS, DOLL'S CLOTHING
OK, take this and I'll send you a postcard later.
That'll be 3 marks and 95 pfennigs.
Are you often in Delitzsch? - No. Only when you send me a card.
Well, I'll be sure to send you a card so you don't come for nothing.
Five pfennigs change. - Thanks.
You're putting it in there? - I don't want my little girl to see it.
You don't want her to see it? Wait, I'll wrap it up.
This way up, I'd say.
Thanks. - I'll send you a card, all right? - OK. Goodbye. - Goodbye.
These are mommy voices. - Do you have daddy voices?
No, but I have bear voices...
Listen!
How was it when you ran away from home?
Well... - How do you mean? You mean why? - Yes, why?
We were sick and tired of it, it was all too much.
What were you sick and tired of?
All the rules and instructions. - Me too.
I had trouble at home and I...
We wanted to do what we wanted to do.
We'd reached the end of our tether, so we split.
We just wanted to leave, be able to do what we wanted.
That too, I mean...
not having to listen to anyone else, doing whatever we wanted to do.
It was great.
Where did you go?
We stayed with some buddies. We met some guys...
and slept at their place. - For how long? - Just under a week.
Not always at the same ones',
we met a few other guys as well.
And what did you do?
What do you mean? - With...
All our free time? - Yes.
We went to the disco, did what we wanted. - You were in Berlin? - In Berlin.
Weren't you afraid someone might be looking for you?
We knew they were. Whenever we saw a policeman, Kerstin went apeshit.
I'd say: "Just keep quiet!" She really lost her nerve.
Yes. - It was weird.
And didn't you think your parents might be sad or worried?
I think that's what I wanted. I had the chance to think about my mistakes,
and my mother had the chance to think about her mistakes, too.
You live alone with your mom, Kerstin? - Yes. - And where's your father?
Are they divorced? - Yeah. He defected to the West in '81.
He was often in jail and all that...
You know?
But your parents were already divorced by then? - Yes.
Are you in touch with him? - I'm not allowed.
For political reasons, and my mom doesn't want me to.
But I'd like to be. He's my dad, after all.
It was bad what he did to us, but still...
I'd like to talk to him, find out how he is. That interests me, too...
I don't know...
How old were you when they split up?
Five or six years old.
And how was your father before that? - We got on real well together.
It was a really good relationship.
Do you have any siblings? - Two. - And what does your mother do?
She teaches apprentices. She trained as a cook but had to stop for health reasons.
And your mother's still single? - No, she has a boyfriend.
You know him? He comes around? - Yes.
What do you think of him? - He's OK. He helps my mom a lot.
He's good.
What's your home life like, Anja?
Fine, but my parents argue a lot.
My relationship with my father isn't so good.
I get on fine with my mother but not with my father, because I'm so headstrong.
That might not be right, be he doesn't understand that I have to be like this.
And how's school?
How are your grades?
Pretty bad.
Were they always bad? - No. Until sixth grade I only got As and Bs.
Then it all started.
And what caused it, do you think?
Because I'm not interested in school anymore.
What job will you do later?
I'm going to be a trained photocopier operator.
You're training? - Just started.
And you? Kerstin? - I've got really bad grades, too.
I wanted to train as a cook but I can't, because of my grades.
So I'm training to be a clothes maker.
It's similar to being a tailor.
And cooks need better grades? - Bs and Cs.
I don't have them.
And how do you get on with your teachers? Are there any...
that you like? - Yes.
Our math teacher, her class teacher.
Yes, he's really all right.
Could you not do a bit more to get by at school?
We could, but we don't want to, you know? We're too lazy.
Sometimes we try to work harder but something always stops us.
CHEATED, DECEIVED, RAISED TO HATE
Looks awesome!
Do you do this in your rooms, too? - No. I'd like to...
Just splash paint everywhere...
Make a real mess.
How would you decorate your own flat?
White. White for me. - Black. Nothing but black.
And then with candles and crosses and all.
Very good, Anja, but don't go and make a mess.
What're your plans for the vacation? - Hang around. Have fun.
Do you go away together? - No. We want to, in the summer.
Where do you want to go? - Somewhere.
Out of Berlin. Berlin's dead.
Leipzig maybe. We'll see what's up.
Looks great!
What year were you born? - 1971. - Me, too.
1971. That makes you what age? - Sixteen.
Anja? - Yes?
Where are you going? - Where are we going?
Hey! - Stop.
Where would you like to go?
To Hawaii. To Hawaii!
Yes? - Yeah.
Nice and warm there, huh? - Yeah.
Have you ever flown? - No.
Only after being thumped!
Enjoy your flight! - Thanks. Bye.
This is really funny!
I'm splitting my sides!
Anja and Kerstin repeatedly stayed away from home for days and didn't go to school.
Four weeks after we finished filming, Kerstin was sent to a home for juvenile delinquents.
Six months later, Anja's mother and sister accompany her on her journey
to a vocational school for young delinquents near Karl-Marx-Stadt.
Her father comes from his nightshift to say goodbye to his daughter.
What's she going to do there? - Maybe she'll be a trainee at the Narva lightbulb factory.
I'll find that out today.
What about school? - That's over now.
All aboard, please, the doors are about to close!
Be sensible, Anja.
All aboard, please, the doors are about to close!
Exercise caution while the train is departing!
Please close all train doors and exercise caution while the train is departing!
Shit.
It's to bring you good luck. - Thanks. Bye. - Bye. - Bye.
Take care, Helke. Bye. - Bye, Helke. - Bye, Anja, thanks for everything.
Bye.
Anja, come here.
I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. Will you write me? You will, honey?
Bye. - Bye.
Bye, Dad.
Little mouse!
Look what's happening! Back a bit, huh? It's drafty by the window.
We can watch from here. Watch from here?
Let's put our hat on.
We planned on having an entire soccer team.
But... - Not enough...
And we're too old now. - Really?
Too tired? - No, it's not that.
We're strong enough. We're like oxen!
Leave it for your little brother. - What do you do?
I'm a janitor right now. - Where? Do I have to say? - Of course.
At the State Insurance Company in Zwickau.
Why do you say "right now"? - I'm new to the job.
What did you do before that? - I worked for ESDA.
Sorry?
I was a pantyhose finisher at ESDA.
I was a dyer. I dyed ladies' pantyhose.
Why did you quit?
Even on shift work you don't earn enough.
You don't earn much in light industry.
Whether you work four shifts or three, you don't earn enough.
It's really hard work, but you don't earn enough.
That's why they have such a high staff turnover.
They're always looking for people.
And there's plenty of work to be had. But the pay's bad.
Can you imagine you working and your husband staying home?
Why not? - If she earned enough.
Of course. - Any time.
Dustin!
But she'd only earn 450, 500 marks.
It's not enough.
Not even close!
It's bad enough as it is.
I mean to say... - Dustin.
If you compare prices, they've doubled in the last ten years.
A pair of jeans cost 18 marks, now they cost 28.
What did the kid's jeans cost? 40? - 39 marks.
That's unaffordable.
That's the disadvantage of thinking you'll have more kids,
it ruins you.
The child allowance they get all goes on clothes and the like.
There's nothing left over.
You spend the lot.
And you're always in the red. Always.
He was nameless for two days, then a friend of mine suggested Dustin.
I told the registrar of births, and he said it didn't sound bad, so we said OK.
Maybe it's... - A friend of ours in Berlin said Dustin's a nice name,
like Dustin Hoffman, the actor.
But we're not allowed to use it. - Why not? - He wanted it for himself.
Do you often go to Berlin? - Yes.
To see friends? - Two or three times a year.
And where do you spend your vacation? - In Berlin.
I thought you just went there at weekends. - No. We know an elderly couple there.
When the weather's nice, they move into their garden house.
They've got a one-room apartment, and we move into it.
And stay for three or four weeks.
What about a girl? - No.
We'll wait for a granddaughter.
We'll have lots of daughters-in-law. That's enough.
Have a pleasant journey. - Thanks.
"Honeymoon in Berlin.
Newlyweds Helga and Andreas Gerlach from Greitz, cook and packer, respectively,
inaugurated a charming room in the Egon Schultz Hotel for young tourists.
They have five days to enjoy it and to get to know the capital.
The hotel supports their plan with a well-balanced program.
Today the young couple had their breakfast served in the GDR-manufactured French bed.
However the honeymoon suite is already booked out for this year."
Please step this way. This is the honeymoon suite.
This is the bedroom.
With our French bed.
That's it, really...
What gave you the idea of creating something like this?
The initiative came about when we asked ourselves:
What can we do for young people in the GDR to mark Berlin's 750th anniversary?
So we decided to create a wedding suite,
as an initiative for the 750th anniversary.
We wanted to offer our young people the chance to enjoy a pleasant honeymoon here.
We believe it's vitally important for a marriage to get off to a good start.
That's why we came up with this initiative.
Do you find it unfair, having to work on International Women's Day?
Not really, no.
I mean, I have to say, work has priority.
If we all celebrated, the subway would come to a standstill.
How many women drivers are there?
I'm afraid I don't know.
There's definitely a lot, but how many...?
How many women drivers would you say there are? - About 100.
There has to be 100. At least 100.
And how long have you been a driver?
For more than 20 years.
SUNDAY, MARCH 8
The SED Central Committee marked International Women's Day with a festive reception.
Erich Honecker: "Together we're building a life in freedom, democracy and socialism."
The objective of creating a nuclear-free Europe is achievable.
Clara Zetkin Medal awarded to outstanding women.
GDR athletes successful at World Indoor Track and Field Championships,
with Heike Drechsler winning two gold medals.
Cause of ferry disaster in the English Channel remains unclear.
China's foreign minister welcomes Soviet initiative on mid-range missiles.
The St. Thomas Choir of Leipzig celebrates its 775th anniversary.
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is the news.
Berlin, 750 years old, welcomed women young and old from all over the country today.
As on every March 8,
the most diligent and worthy women come by invitation of the SED's General Secretary.
The only hint of spring was in the hall.
Erich Honecker's guests, many of whom won the Clara Zetkin award,
greet their host and other members of the Party leadership.
Anita Hoffmann, 45, is an electrical fitter at a gas production collective.
Erich Honecker thanked the mother of four for working even at -20° Celsius.
The gas supply remained punctual and steady.
Anita Rotta described her experience as an R & D manager in Coswig
to Horst Sindermann, President of the People's Chamber.
Beside Inge Lange and Horst Dolus is collective farmhand Hanni Klautke.
She's driven a harvester for more than 15 years.
Shoptalk with Werner Felfe.
Excavator driver Liselotte Holstein being honored by Harry Tisch.
An invitation to the opera,
made by the German State Opera Choir and the dancers of the Friedrichstadt-Palast.
Three, four...
I don't know who I belong to,
I'm too good for just one man.
And if I promise to be true to you,
I'll be making another unhappy instead.
Why should I please one man alone?
The sun and the stars belong to no one.
I don't know who I belong to,
I belong to myself alone.
How do you want to live when you're grown up?
I don't want to get married.
Why not? - Well...
Because you argue and so on.
I don't think getting married is nice.
But I would live with a man.
But I wouldn't get married, it's too fixed.
You think couples don't argue then? - Sure they do, but...
I don't like the idea.
And you? - Whether I'll get married? I don't know yet. But...
But I would like to have a house of my own. - Yeah. - Yes?
I do want to get married,
but I'd like to keep my own name or take a double-barreled surname.
I don't know if I'll get married.
But if I do, I'll keep my own name or take a double-barreled name, too.
And children?
Yes, I want children: two, one.
But two would be better.
Do you want to live like your parents or differently?
Like my parents.
I don't know how else one could live, and I like it at home.
I'd live like them, like my parents.
Maybe I'll live like my mother, but...
But?
Maybe things will turn out differently.
Back already, Paula?
Well, what is it?
A boy?
Get lost! Get lost before something happens!
What are you staring at? Get out! - You can't do this to me!
Remember all the good times!
Where's the boy? - Asleep.
Be quiet!
Go ahead and get divorced!
Gross Fredenwalde, a village in the Uckermark.
Here Margarete Busse, 85, lives with her husband, Hermann.
Are those flowers especially for a diamond wedding?
Are there different ones? - I don't know.
Sorry? - I don't know.
What do they wear for golden weddings? A tiara? - Yes.
A golden one. Golden.
This is more of a diamond occasion.
Where's the diamond, then? - There is none! - There's a little one in there!
You're such a jokester!
A lovely bride!
What color was your wife's hair? - Light brown.
Light brown? - Yes.
Now it's turned white. - And did she have wavy hair?
Did she have wavy hair or straight hair? - Straight hair.
And when you met... - Thick hair.
Did she wear braids, when you first met? - Yes, yes...
Yes, she wore it in a bun.
My little honey, my little sweetheart...
Look, you're going to be in the film.
Your great-grandma, huh?
Hello, sweetie. - Hello.
Hello, daughter. - Hello.
Congratulations, Grandma!
You're so late... - I'll see you at your next anniversary.
Another five years, Hartmut.
Five more years... Maybe we'll make it. - Of course you'll make it, won't you?
Yes, I hope so. - Of course. - We'll stay healthy...
God willing, I always say.
Have you still got your sewing machine? - Yes.
What can the poor men do? - The old Singer.
There's no tailor around here.
I have to help them. They come with their trousers torn at the ass.
I have to mend them all.
I sit down at my machine,
run them through a few times and then they're mended.
And they're really glad.
Has anyone in the family got divorced? Among the children or grandchildren?
No.
Among us? - No.
Does my brother's Marianne count?
Yes, she counts. - She's a grandchild.
But she lives in West Germany.
She's the only one who's got divorced.
Of all the children and grandchildren...
No, they're all still together.
You've had your silver wedding, and you've had your silver wedding.
Yes. And we're hurrying towards our silver wedding with big steps!
We hope we'll get there, we really do.
And I'm so glad that we've been able to see our grandparents...
celebrate their diamond wedding anniversary. It's great.
Did you have dancing lessons? - Sorry? - Did you have dancing lessons?
When I was a girl I danced a lot and I was a good dancer. They all danced with me.
I mostly danced waltzes, and to the left.
Always to the left. Ask my son-in-law.
He only danced waltzes with me. To the left.
They all watched while we danced.
Hermann and you? - No, Helga's husband.
I see. - That's right: Gerhardt.
He was a good dancer.
Where did you meet your husband? On the dance floor?
No, in Alt Temmen.
On the Wallberg in Alt Temmen. - Out in the forest. - That's where we danced.
That's where we met. But he couldn't dance.
He couldn't dance back then. I had to teach him.
Did you just marry her, then? - Yes. - Yes? - Of course.
You think you have to ask the father first?
I've heard that back then you had to ask the bride's father
for his daughter's hand in marriage.
But you didn't? - No. - No? - Not at all, no. Definitely not.
Was it a big wedding 60 years ago? - No, it wasn't. - No?
No, that was back in 1927, there was a lot of unemployment at the time.
Yes. - I was unemployed myself. - Yes.
I was earning next to nothing,
I got 15 marks welfare each month. - Yes.
Yes. - It wasn't enough.
Would Hermann and Margarete's children raise their hands?
Who are the children?
One, two, three, four... The fifth is missing.
Now the grandchildren, all the grandchildren.
Not us, we're great-grandchildren.
Where are the great-grandchildren? - Here!
Thanks!
How old were you then? - Here?
Twenty-two.
Were you working at that age?
No, I was still studying. I was living away from home.
What were you studying? - Everything, at the estate in Parlow,
if you know it.
You were studying to be a maid? - Yes. I learned to cook, pickle, the lot.
I prepared dinner. I had to help with everything.
I was in every picture with my employers.
I was a nimble girl. I could really run back then.
So I could.
They wanted to buy me off my mother for 10,000 marks.
And more. Every year.
Who? - My employers. - Really? - They had no children and wanted me to stay.
You had to get married? - Yes, I was pregnant.
What did your father say? - It was the eldest son who was at the wedding.
He said he'd throw me out if it happened again and I wasn't married.
I got married at once.
You wouldn't have married Hermann otherwise? - No.
We weren't meant to be married.
How's your marriage to Hermann been? Do you regret marrying him?
To tell you the truth, yes. I had it hard. At first, I regretted it.
Because he played around.
On top of my already having three children.
He just came in.
I'll have to be quiet...
or he'll give me hell.
He's not much good.
I should have married a better man. I had one.
My father found him, a forester, but I wouldn't have him.
It's better not to think about it.
Friday! Time to party all night!
Friday! Time to rock our socks off!
Friday! Time to pick up a chick!
Today is Friday!
Friday...
Today is Friday!
It's gonna happen today!
Black-sailed
sails my ship.
Here I am!
It sails across
the raging sea.
You know too well
how sad I am.
And you hurt me
so terribly.
Your heart is fickle
just like the wind.
And it flutters
to and fro.
Black-sailed
sails my ship.
It sails across
the raging sea...
Jedeck, Thorsten! - Here!
Get a move on!
Ennuschat, Mario! - Here!
Köpsel, Frank!
During the break at the Sassnitz fish factory,
I asked the women in Ilse Braatz' work brigade
what they think about men.
What do we think about them? - We need them.
It's the most important thing in the world!
What a question!
It's a good job we have them, huh? - We can't do without them.
For a while, maybe, but for longer?
What a question!
It depends. We can't do without them.
You don't really get going till you're 50, so they say.
You're telling her something!
He's sick at the moment. - He's got things nice and quiet now.
The quiet before the storm. - I hope you're leaving him alone.
I have to or he'll never recover. - That's right.
But there are too many divorces, over the slightest thing.
It was never like this before. - A couple have to get on with each other.
A couple has to be able to agree on things.
If they work shifts, say, and have children,
they have to plan together how to bring up and educate the kids,
agree on things.
Sometimes a woman comes home after an eight-hour shift, a little irritable
after being in the factory for eight hours, with all the noise and all.
It's not easy for a woman: it makes her irritable.
Her husband, too, maybe the children as well...
How did you used to cope? You all used to work shifts.
Yes, we... But too many marriages end in divorce.
I feel sorry for the kids. They get really mixed up.
There are kids, kids, and more kids: mine, yours, and ours.
What do you wish for yourself in the future?
Oh, God! Good health for all the family.
I want my children to have nice marriages...
I have two sons. That's all at present.
There's no need to cry. - I'm not crying.
It's a touching thought, Helga, that's obvious.
And the rest of you?
Above all, good health.
And that peace endures. - Yes, that's right.
That's important.
That goes without saying, or it ought to. We hope so, at any rate.
Carry on, Helga! - Good health and lots of money.
Lots of money!
If you look back now
at your lives,
what would you do differently?
What would I do differently?
Nothing, I think.
I don't know... Nothing...
I've never had it too hard.
I don't know. Nothing. - It's hard to say.
I'd learn more, so I could work less, if I could turn back the clock.
Sorry? - If I could turn back the clock, I'd learn more, so I could work less.
What would you learn? - I never learned anything. - No, what would you learn?
What? I always wanted to be a streetcar conductor, but it didn't work out.
It didn't work out, huh, Helga?
If I could turn back the clock, I'd be 20 again
and I'd apply for a job on a fish processing ship.
Oh, yes! - That's not bad!
That's what I wanted to do when I was younger.
Bodo, hold on tight!
Wow!
Smile, please!
Me? Help!
Erika Banhardt lives by the sea.
She is deputy mayor and a local politician.
She runs a home in Nienhagen for children from dysfunctional families.
She's 55, single, and has two children.
Button up your jacket!
Have you seen any ships today? - No!
There aren't any today... There!
I saw one.
Look over there, to where my finger's pointing.
Far away on the horizon.
I can see it!
We can't see it clearly, due to the fog, but it's very big.
It'll be setting off today.
I've been working in homes for children
since 1950.
I haven't worked in that many.
And the daily routine was planned from morning to night.
And most of the time
you were on duty at night, too.
So your own life took a back seat.
And you wanted to do the job to everyone's satisfaction,
so that left very little room for your own private life.
And I have to say, that maybe...
That in some respects, my expectations...
were too high.
And maybe some of my partners didn't fully live up to them.
At any rate, they all had their own ideas
and, I keep emphasizing this,
work probably played too great a role.
But...
I'd say that's the main reason
for my being alone in so many respects.
To the extent that I rejected a proposal of marriage.
What do your children do for a living?
My son is in his final year at college.
He's studying oral medicine in Rostock.
And my daughter's finished her studies.
She studied youth care in Kyritz
and works at the Jenny Marx Home in Rerik.
Do they have families of their own?
My son does.
He has an adorable little boy, my Christoph.
Christoph loves everything that moves around him.
Children are also very important to him. It's his age, of course.
And my daughter is still looking for someone.
She wants to do everything much better than her mother has done.
And I hope she succeeds. But we all wanted that at some stage:
that we make more of our lives than our parents did.
Everyone has to test themselves, it's a test of strength, and gather experience.
Everyone wants to hand on to their children
more than they had, make things easier for them.
It's a normal part of life.
Have you never doubted that maybe it was important
for your children to have a father who was there for them?
Every now and then, yes.
But they've both always been very independent.
And I have a lot of people around me who've helped.
And the children also felt that they were safe.
And that was really the decisive point for me.
But I would qualify that by saying this:
If I were to do it all again,
if I were a young woman again,
I wouldn't want to raise my children on my own.
Did you fall?
Ronnie!
That's right. Now hold my hand.
Did you bring the sea monster? - Yes. - Fine.
Haven't you missed having tenderness from a man, say, in your life.
When I was younger, not so much, in that respect.
Because I had the children.
The whole day was taken up.
My own children were with me.
And anyone...
who's experienced children in a children's home,
from the day they arrive to the day they go to a new family or return home,
knows how many hours of happiness and intimacy you have.
So no: personally I've never missed it.
I do have to say, however,
that you probably start to feel it when you get older.
That you begin looking for this and that, but I have to say,
I have very close, very good friends.
And that helps me get through a lot of things.
Tenderness is one thing, but I think sexuality is also extremely important,
it's a part of life.
Have you never needed it, never looked for it? - Yes.
No I... I did have that,
but I have to say
that I did have such a great love
that satisfied me so much,
and then later I had my children, so I've never missed it too much.
By "great love" you mean the father of your children? - Yes.
And how did he react to your not wanting to live with him?
It was my wish, what I wanted.
No one could've influenced me.
But how did he react at that moment?
Did he accept it at once? - Yes.
Absolutely.
He knew me too well for that. - He didn't fight?
No. That would've been pointless.
And is there anyone in your life today who you'd like to be with?
Yes, absolutely.
But it's not that simple.
Life is a struggle.
And my life will always be that way.
But I've never given up.
And I've always fought, not just for what I want but for others, too.
But also in such a manner that in many ways...
I've been...
In some respects I've had to be cunning.
But I've always taken whatever I've needed.
Has there been anything in your life you'd approach or view differently now?
Yes, absolutely.
I actually thought
that after the age of 50,
you shouldn't...
you shouldn't really put your private life in the forefront quite so much.
But due to having been seriously ill,
I now treat life differently.
My colleagues have noticed this, too.
And...
somehow I feel more fulfilled.
I'd say I lost a number of years
and maybe I'll now experience some things in life much more...
intensely.
Absolutely.
And I'm pretty sure
that I'll fight really hard
to get the things that I want.
Because you only live once.
And that's what I'm doing.
My heartfelt thanks
to all the women, girls, men and children who I met on this trip for their candor.
In particular:
© 2010 English Subtitles:
Babelfisch Translations & DEFA Film Library at the Univ. of Massachusetts Amherst.
All rights reserved.