22.11.2013

Sorry for any mistakes, I was using a translator. After all, we had to learn Russian at school because of the german Soviet friendship propagated by politicians ... After all, we were Soviet-occupied zone ... If someone would be willing to translate my dutschen text into English, please just contact me or contact me ... Russian is a very easy language (compared to german) because in Russian there are only cases, in German there are 6....

Excerpt of the book I started

My stepfather was the deputy head of the Stasi Suhl office in southern Thuringia, where he works, he only told me in 1978, in the same breath he told me that he was not my biological father ... I suffered trauma. Completely shocked, I ran to the nursery (10 square meters with my brother, there was no privacy, total control...)  And threw myself on my bed, I fell into the abyss in shock... My mother came in and said: 

"What's there to cry about?" and went again; they never apologized to me for the double lie of life and never comforted me in my sadness, my ideal world, was torn to shreds from then on... Forever!

Thanks to Lutz, a photographer from Berlin, who introduced me to Ruth, from Hamburg, who wrote a book about Stasi children and published a short report about my childhood in "STERN" in cooperation with me.

I would also like to thank all those who have encouraged me to publish my life story and who have always encouraged me. 

My mother received an award trip to Leningrad from her company, a toy goods factory, in the summer of '78. She had passed her Marxist-Leninist apprenticeship year, which for the most part only Fatheri wrote for her anyway, as she had great difficulties with reading and writing; well, she was a child of war... She was supposed to work for the Stasi (I found out later, but nothing came of it), so she had to become a party member and become her 

and in order to fit in with her politically correct husband, she had to conform and so it came to this one year. Cruel!
Since my mother did not want to make the trip to Russia alone, my stepfather accompanied her and paid for the trip out of his own pocket. A no brainer for him, with an annual income of 40,000 GDR marks, the average citizen earned between 600-800 GDR marks.
Now my brother and I were alone you, fate took a course.

So the parents far away in Russia, I looked very courageously and with trembling hands into the silver, metal, casket, in front of which my mother always waits never to see me in. I did! I was scared! Great fear! But 16 years of curiosity literally drove me to it. I could hardly hold on to the contents, I was trembling so much. Then I came across my birth certificate and I didn't understand who this strange man was, who was there under "father" was registered. Klaus-Dieter? Who is this? I read on and did not understand the sentence "the child has taken the name "Mayer" with today's date, instead of child". I had sweat on my forehead. The hands were shaking and although the parents were far away, I felt watched by them, so great was my fear that they would notice something after the trip. I wrote this "funny" sentence on a piece of paper, put the birth certificate neatly back in the casket, behind the glass of the showcase. Then I immediately drove to my friend's house; it was late afternoon. We were in the same year of apprenticeship and since I knew that she was growing up with a stepfather, I thought I was in the right place with her. So she explained to me the meaning of this sentence and I didn't want to believe all this and be true. I took the bus home completely distraught, lay down and completely forgot that I left the note on the coffee table. The next day I drove ​back to my girlfriend, because I still had a lot to talk about. When I returned home, I was shocked to the extreme. Everything contracted in me. I felt hot and cold. I had forgotten the note! I felt sick to my stomach. Everywhere in me only fear. I already saw myself in a children's home. Such a measure! My parents were back from Russia two days early! They sat extremely tense on the sofa, my mother holding my note in her hand. Her ​angry eyes pierced me. As is so often the case, she put on this look to express her even angry horror and she instilled great fear in me and so I always had the greatest respect for her. You always had to be on your guard with her. Just as cat owners studied their cats' facial expressions, so I studied my mother's. For my own protection or to be on my guard and then be able to react accordingly. I did all this inwardly, with all on its own.
My stepfather spoke first. His body language didn't tell me anything good. He sat very bent in the armchair. Somehow, I felt sorry for him even at that moment. There was something sorrowful and gentle about him at that moment. Today I can interpret body language: How do I tell my child? At that time, of course, I didn't understand anything, except that I was caught snooping and that I could face harsh sanctions. My stepfather/father told me that we were going to take a walk to the garage. We did that more often. On the way there, he told me that he would not be my biological father, but his stepfather. Pure SHOCK. Absolute, infinite, indescribable, stabbing shock. I don't have to worry, he will always be a father to me. It pulled the rug out from under my feet. He continued: But there is something else. Wait a minute, I'm just  falling and there's something else, I think. I open my eyes wide and look at him with an astonished look as I raise my eyebrows and can hardly hold back my amazement.  Fear pierces me and I ask myself the question: Can there be anything worse YES! IT CAN! He continues: Well, I'm not an officer in the border troops, but I work for the Stasi. At that time, I had only a faint idea of what the Stasi was doing.  Worse for me was the fraud or the border troop lie, my brother and I had always bought him a community gift on 1.12., on the day of the border troops of the GDR. All of this was also a lie. So we've been going for nothing all these years and we've been thinking about a gift for Daddy? We've been arguing our heads all these years for nothing about what to buy together. It sometimes took days for us brothers and sisters to come to an agreement. All  

He talked and talked and I cried and cried, didn't even listen anymore until he asked me why I was crying. I couldn't and didn't want to answer that and we walked home in silence.
 
When I got home, I asked my mother why she had lied to me for so long. She just said, shrugging her shoulders, "what should we do?" I ran to the nursery, threw myself on my bed and couldn't stop crying. 

When I got home, I asked my mother why she had lied to me for so long. She just said, shrugging her shoulders, "what should we do?" I ran to the nursery, threw myself on my bed and couldn't stop crying. She entered the children's room quite loudly and snapped at me, what I had to cry there, I shouldn't be like that and left the room with the words that I have to keep silent towards my brother, because he is not supposed to know the truth until he is 18, as I actually do, but I have looked into the casket in a forbidden way. So, sobbing on the bed, I was still made to feel guilty. I stayed in the room for hours, then tried to distract myself with music until the door opened again and it was DINNER. I couldn't get a bite down. The mood was freezing cold. My brother, as ignorant, as innocent as I was hours before, 

did not understand the situation, of course. I left the dinner table, went into the children's room and didn't show up until the next day.

We had to be home every evening at 7:30 p.m. to watch the "current camera", the GDR evening news. We had to be very careful, because we were sometimes asked what we had just seen to check whether we were on the case. If GDR politicians were on the news, we were asked what their names were. If we didn't know that, there was verbal scolding and humiliation. My mother was not spared either. Depending on how he felt, we then had to undergo his political brainwashing. He had the interrogation methods on it, after all, he was with the company.
It was, as it were, with the GDR hate show "the black channel". That's where HE is at his best How dangerous the imperialist enemy from the FRG is and how the GDR is against capitalism and how important it is that every comrade has to fulfill his duty for the socialist fatherland. This was the only way to strengthen the GDR. The tragic thing is, I believed him exactly that. Comrades are good people who do good for the GDR.
When we went to the cinema with friends, we had to tell our parents about the film afterwards as proof that we had been to the cinema too. I was afraid of this report all the time in the cinema, I tried to memorize it at the same time as watching the film in order to be able to tell every passage. The dramatic thing, however, was that I built up such enormous fear and pressure that I then had a BLACK OUT at home and didn't know anything anymore. This was easy for my brother, so he didn't have to reckon with sanctions. I, on the other hand, had to reckon with punishments, be it housework, House arrest, a ban on television or additional math tasks and dictations after school.
My stepfather's political brainwashing had led me to believe so much in his phrases that comrades could participate in the progress and growth of the GDR, I was very fascinated by these possibilities and very proud that my father and mother were members of the SED. I believed you and didn't question any of that.
I wanted to be recognized by my family, especially my stepfather... so I applied to join the SED, of course in the convinced belief that I could help make a difference. Then came the shock: in the 2nd year of our apprenticeship we had to go into production, the brigadier, a comrade who, I was told to be, has to be loyal to the line, in the sense of the GDR, had always talked about the West. A huge shock for me, I didn't get it, the master allowed the whole brigade to listen to Western radio! 

Shock again!!! Comrades don't do that, I've been told to do!
The next day in the evening I ask my stepfather: you said that ....... but in the enterprise, the master, the brigadier ... do that.... I told everything down to the smallest detail. He asked curiously. I told. Up to that point, I didn't know that he was working for the Stasi.  He didn't give me an answer! For the first time I did not receive an answer from him, as he was always so diligent in his agitation. I didn't know what was happening to me anymore. The next day the master stayed away, also the next and next and .... We never saw him again. He was seriously ill. The brigadier began to bully me. All my colleagues bullied me as well, because they were no longer allowed to listen to Western radio and they knew who they had to thank for that.  When I was 18 years old, Of course, it was not possible to terminate the year of admission, because that would have had harsh consequences for the career ladder of my Stasi father, and so I watched later, when I gave birth to my first son, I was already living in a small town near Berlin, that I took sick leave for every small infection of the child. So I turned around the party apprenticeship year in the company, which always took place on Mondays, after work, and I handled this as often as possible with the monthly party meetings that also took place in the company, even after work.

At the age of 14, I was allowed to come with him from time to time for a Sunday morning pint. I was always completely excited, because I adored my father, whom I saw far too rarely. In the evenings he usually came home around 7 p.m. and on Saturdays around 1 p.m. He was so smart, a lawyer and always so affectionate to me, apart from the brainwashing talks. He had two faces, yet he was my God. I was then allowed to drink the otherwise forbidden Coke, for that alone I loved him, he drank his beer. He asked and asked, and I answered. I was so lucky to have him to myself. He wanted information about students, teachers and friends, I was happy that he was interested in a life. Since I had an extremely tense relationship with my mother at that time, he also asked me what I thought of her. I threw up. In a high arc. I was so happy that I could finally get rid of it all and he had so much understanding for me. Years later, when I was 24, he told me, during one of my visits to them with my sons, that he had told my mother all the content of the conversation from the morning pint back then. I was immediately in the same emotional state as I was when I was 17! The ground opened up beneath me and again they didn't understand me, my anger at them, and my tears.
Now one would think that there would be no more increase in this. Ha! Far from it.
From an early age, I was trained to make sure that my friendships also fit in with my family in terms of cadre politics. So I was taught from an early age to be suspicious of everything and everyone. As a result, I asked every child I met about their television viewing habits, whether they received Western packages or what clothes they wore. Of course, I couldn't ask them so openly and directly, I couldn't and didn't want to betray myself and over the years I became more and more skilled at spying. I then had to answer my stepfather's questions and then some time later I got the o.k. from him whether the parents of the child are "clean" or not. If not, then I was not allowed to know the child from then on and there was my next problem: How do I say it..... It was so horrible, all the lies, all the injuries forced by the others. Then there was Gerda. I thought they were great. I liked them so much. I couldn't say goodbye to her. But my parents caught us playing outside. My mother always liked to look out of the window to check that everything was in order.... Permanent CONTROL. From time to time I met secretly with Gerda, when the threats of my parents became too blatant and violent for me. 

If you don't do what we tell you..." then I let the contact with Gerda be painful. I then "simply" verbally hurt her, so that she didn't feel like me anymore and she wasn't allowed to meet with me anymore anyway. As a child, of course, I didn't know what was going on.

To show how much the wives of the Stasi men played along with the perfidious game of their husbands, here is an insight into the sick, dependent, behavior of my MOTHER:
My mother, an adapted woman, did what was good for her husband's career and did not stand in the way. So she did not question the fact that she came along to school trips, as a supervisor. The other children were all parent-free, so to speak, except me. At every turn she chased me; Who I talk to, what I talk to, where I want to go, for how long, why. I was teased and laughed at for it, but she knew no mercy. She was always there. This was also the case on a daily basis.  She only worked part-time. It was said that she could only work six hours for health reasons. Today I suspect that this must also have been a lie, because that way she had us under control. When we came home from school, Mom was already there. That was annoying! I could never keep track of why my classmates ran home so joyfully, or rather, they did, as they usually had storm-free until the afternoon. A feeling I don't know. My way to school, which took about ten minutes, was usually twice as long, so much did it stank to me that SHE was back home anyway and I couldn't be alone with myself or secretly take a friend to my room. The only girls they allowed me to be friends were Anja, Michaela and Gertrud. They weren't against Anja at all, since her father was also with the Stasi (like all fathers in the entrance). Anja and family lived on the fifth floor, we on the first. It was the last house of the settlement. On the fourth floor lived an important person from the council of the district and thus the house was also home to Stasi families. Anja told me openly that her father was with the Stasi, which always surprised me how openly she did. Wasn't that actually a secret? I was about fourteen when I asked myself this question and so were you. She always denied that her father didn't mind. Later, he was accused by his office of embezzlement of the party treasury and was dismissed in dishonor and the family moved to another city. So my best confidant was no longer there. An extremely painful loss. I envied her because she grew up so open, free and warm in her family. I liked her father, he was so funny, very kind and said what he thought. I liked that, unspoken, of course, well. When Michael's and Gertrud's families were visited in the West, contact with them had to be secret. follow. Officially, I had a ban on contact. Of course, the older I got, the more "courageous" I became, mutating here and there. Back to my mother, who works part-time. So she was there. Always. When I came late, because I was strolling, for fear of their bad mood or their slaps. These were always there when I brought home bad grades and that happened a lot. I have such an enormous fear of failure at school that I could never really concentrate because the fear was breathing down my neck. Math was horrible. Today I know that I had a dyscalculia, but at that time. So there were slaps in the face when she asked me to show the class test with her commanding tone. But what was completely mysterious to me is the fact why I was slapped in the face for a bad dictation by a woman who could hardly read and write herself. Of course, I couldn't say this, because I didn't want to end up in a home, nor did I want to be house-locked for weeks get. I cried, because the slaps not only left pain on my face, but also her five fingers, she struck so hard. She then gave me the order, with a very stern and frightening look, that I had to present the class test to my father without being asked to do so and without delay. I did as I obeyed, because I did not want to go to the HOME.
So I could tell many more sad, denouncing, humiliating stories.