Angela Gottwald lebte als deutschstämmige Tschechin in Grenzdorf, einem abgelegenen Weiler im Altvatergebirge. Alle anderen Familien im Dorf waren fort, vertrieben 1946. Das Leben war hart. Kein Strom, sie kümmerte sich um die fünf Kinder, das Vieh, die Felder und die Grosseltern. Der Vater war als Forstarbeiter wochenlang unterwegs.
Aber trotz aller Entbehrungen packte sie im Winter nachts bei Vollmond die Skier aus, stieg auf den Spitzberg und …
Vollmond
Was weißt denn du vom Vollmond,
wenn es blinzelt blau und weiss
durchs finster sprudelnde Geäst,
der Mond sich räkelt wild im Schweiss.
Mit schimmernd Haar, das glänzt
in Grenzdorfs heller Nacht.
Dann jauchzt die ganze Welt,
wenn sie im Vollmond preist ,
des Altvaters Wonn und Pracht,
dann jauchzt die ganze Welt.
Zum Tale hin so still er steht,
der Vollmond, dem kein Winde weht.
Doch sie ganz voller Glück
denkt nur ans Brett dem guten Stück.
Doch Zwei, das müssens immer sein,
ein schönes Brett für jedes Bein.
Doch Zwei, das müssens immer sein,
ein schönes Brett für jedes Bein.
Was weißt denn du vom Schneemond.
Ganz weich und puderzart
im wechselnd Schatten alles wohnt,
sie rast hinab in Mörderfahrt.
Mit schimmernd Haar, das glänzt
in Grenzdorfs heller Nacht.
Dann jauchzt die ganze Welt,
wenn sie im Vollmond preist ,
des Altvaters Wonn und Pracht,
dann jauchzt die ganze Welt.
In ungezähmter Fahrt ins Tal
die Frau uns immer wieder sagt,
dem Vollmond ist es ganz egal,
welch Schmerzen unsre Welt hier plagt.
Wenn sie mit stolzem Schwunge,
der Schnee spritzt auf und stobt,
und dann auch mal im Sprunge
sie immer nur das Leben lobt.
Frank Sauer 2016
Die tschechische Schriftstellerin Katarina Tuckova schreibt über meinen Auftritt:
Where The Art Heals
Back from the Sudetenland, where we met from various parts of Moravia, Bohemia and Germany to try to return what had disappeared from the local and beautiful landscape or to find something new what would that strange marked region define.
At first glance difficult thing – to find something where there is nothing. But even at second glance there is more than enough: a seemingly empty landscape is full of stories that should have been forgotten.
For instance, the story of a mother of five children who lived in a small village Grenzdorf, situated in the border forests. Throughout her life she was getting up before sunrise and went to bed under the moonlight to take care of family and homestead, here in the middle of forests.
This woman could afford only one pleasure in her life – downhill skiing above the village – but only at night when she was no longer needed. In this time the moon was shining over the Rychlebske Mountains and his silver moonbeams reflected from the snow as it was a day.
During the war, the most of men left the village and after her the remaining neighbours were displaced. Her house was levelled to the ground by the army at the end of 50s.
In fact, that brief moment of happiness of one ordinary weary woman does not mean anything in the course of history. However, for the landscape of which disappeared all the stories after the war, it’s like the golden grain – for someone invisible and worthless, for the others, such as the poet Frank Sauer, it is downright treasure.
Along with the children from Vidnava, he showed us, visiting authors, and all local people how important such fragments of history could be for the present and for the current municipal community.
I was crying. It was impossible to experience this without emotions. The others, who (like me), a few days ago did not know that some Grenzdorf has ever existed, cried too. And the local citizens, who looked at their children that now will grow up in a totally different, much better context, cried as well.
Firsthand, we have seen how the art heals.
Immensely I am looking forward what the workshop V centru/Im Zentrum brings next year, when our ideas ripe and will be implemented. Although, if this art will be only half as strong as it was Frank Sauers performance, I am little bit afraid if I can bear it.
Finally, I really appreciate the work of those who have the courage to heal past traumas of Sudeten landscape. Serafine Lindemann came here with her ninety years old mother who was as a young girl expelled from this place. They both think that working on elimination of prejudices and on common reconciled future is worth not only to them, but even to the next generations. And I admire as well the enthusiasm of Zdeňka Morávková who brought this all into life, as well as courage and liberality of village mayors who see sense and the chance for their communities in those artistic projects.
It was wonderful, see you in one year!
www.imzentrum.eu