We are now at Odesaplatz. The previously nameless square was named after the Ukrainian city of Odesa on August 16, 2022 on the initiative of the district office.

The Sperrgebiet

Location: Odesaplatz

CARO:

What are you thinking?

MARIANNE:

The buildings haven’t changed that much. I feel a bit like I’m in a dream. It looks the same but then it almost doesn’t.

CARO:

Tell me more about this area. What about the shops, for example? How did you buy things? Were there special stores or something with ration cards?

MARIANNE:

No! I’m not that old. The ration cards were no longer used, but you always had a special place to go pick up items. At that time, in the early 60s, things still weren’t that plentiful. That’s how it was in the DDR: even if there were no more ration cards, there was still a store you were registered at or something like that.

In fact, there used to be a Russian store - The Magazin. Back then, the supply situation wasn't that great. But at Magazin, they had the things people really wanted: Swiss cheese, fish, butter—BUTTER! That was like a magic word. You couldn’t just buy butter whenever you wanted, of course. You were only allowed a certain amount of butter per month. You could get that from the store, and they’d make a mark in the ledger. I still remember that sometimes they’d say, “You can have two extra pieces,” because someone else hadn’t picked up their share.

CARO:

What was it like shopping in Magazin? Could they speak German?

MARIANNE:

They definitely understood German, so it wasn’t complicated to communicate what you wanted. It wasn’t like you were trying on clothes or anything; it was usually clear—today they had bananas or maybe some meat. And they must have received supplies in large enough quantities that the officers didn’t buy everything up first; otherwise, they wouldn’t have sold any to us.

But that gradually got better over time. Then it was about other things, like household appliances. You had to organise those or keep an eye out for when something became available. It was like this: if there was a line somewhere, you knew there was something there, and you might want to check it out. You’d stand in line, and maybe you could buy some bananas or something. It sounds a bit crazy today, but that’s how it was.

Look, this is where the fence was.

CARO:

For the Sperrgebiet?

MARIANNE:

Yes. There were gates in the fence for pedestrians. People who lived there had to show a pass every time.

CARO:

So, you never went inside the Sperrgebiet?

MARIANNE:

Oh, I didn’t say that!

CARO:

You snuck in??

MARIANNE:

Not really, they always let us kids in. I had a friend who lived in the Sperrgebiet. On Rheinsteinstrasse.

CARO:

I thought only Russians were allowed to live in there?

MARIANNE:

There were exceptions. Normally, yes, that was the rule. My friend’s family was anti-fascist, and they were allowed to live there because of it. The family got the house and garden after 1945. We always played in that garden. And the soldiers would always let me in without a pass. They knew my friend, of course, since she went through every day to and from school, and I guess they didn’t mind children; we were little, after all. So, we would play in her garden. I remember that they had this beautiful, large willow tree we could swing from.

CARO:

What about your parents? Were they allowed in?

MARIANNE:

No, never.

CARO:

So kids just had the run of the place?

MARIANNE:

Not exactly. But we certainly had more freedom. We used to come into the park here too. That’s where

I had my first kiss.

CARO:

What?? Who?

MARIANNE:

Sacha Kazakov. He was a Russian boy.

CARO:

Ohhh, a Russian lover.

MARIANNE:

My first love! We used to race from one end of the park to the other. I was quite the runner, you know. But he was faster. Nothing quite like the adrenaline hit we would get sprinting through the trees. One day when I caught up to him, completely out of breath, he grabbed both my arms and pulled me into a kiss with such a force.

CARO:

(Caro laughs) That sounds sweaty.

MARIANNE:

He caught me completely unaware. That’s what I liked about him. It was hard to surprise me, but he

always managed to do it. Maybe it was because we were so different.

CARO:

I thought there wasn’t mixing.

MARIANNE:

There wasn’t really. There was a lot of talk of German-Soviet friendship, but that didn’t really exist. Not

in practice. But we put it into practice.

I only met him because of my friend who lived there. We were in the park, and he marched straight up to us and told me he thought I was very pretty.

CARO:

So forward.

MARIANNE:

I loved it. I found him so interesting. His whole life and culture were a complete mystery to me. He seemed like an adventure.

CARO:

And, of course, the forbidden love.

MARIANNE:

Yes, I think we thought ourselves invincible. We even used to ask for cigarettes from the soldiers. Rebels without a cause!

CARO:

I never knew any of this.

MARIANNE:

He lived in one of the houses from the article.

CARO:

Really? Did you ever go in?

MARIANNE:

A couple of times. It wasn’t easy. But I wanted to see where he came from. We would meet in the park and sneak in through the back. He would run upstairs and check no one was home before coming to get me.

CARO:

Imagine if you were caught.

MARIANNE:

Yes, it was very stupid. We weren’t THAT young, you know. If we were caught there would have been

consequences. More so for him, I think.

CARO:

(Breathing out heavily) How hard it must have been to live with the constant fear of punishments

hanging over your heads…

MARIANNE:

Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t like that. Yes, there was the threat of punishment, but not really. Everybody

knew the line and how to walk it.

CARO:

Sounds like you were trying to bring down the system.

MARIANNE:

I was never that political. I didn’t want to stand out like that.

CARO:

But Mum told me you got into trouble once for starting a club.

MARIANNE:

Oh! (She laughs) Well, that was just stupid kid stuff. In our little group at school, we would inform ourselves through Western television and had our own ideas and plans.

CARO:

I thought you couldn’t watch TV from the West.

MARIANNE:

It was forbidden, yes. There was a time when people would be caught by how their antennas were positioned—you could tell who was watching Western TV. I remember being at friends' houses, watching Western TV after school. That somehow got reported to the Party leadership where their father worked, and as a result, he was punished. He had a salary reduction.

CARO:

So is that what gave you the idea for the club?

MARIANNE:

No, I don’t remember who had that idea first. There was a core group of us, maybe four or five people. But sometimes we would have more, and at some point, there were 13 of us. Then somebody suggested we call it Club 13.

It was a blast. We would just go to the cinema or hang out in the streets, sometimes go for a swim at the pool. At that time, buttons were all the rage at school. So we all came with these buttons on that said ‘Club 13’. The teacher freaked out, and then all hell broke loose. “What is this? These are obviously state-enemy conspiracies.”

They really chewed us out for it. Those buttons were quickly taken and stored away. We had to swear an oath that we would never again come up with such stupid ideas. Club 13… it was just us trying to be ‘cool’.

CARO:

You’re lucky they only took the buttons away.

MARIANNE:

Oh, we were also interrogated. But I think it was obvious we were just a bunch of nobodies and it was all a joke. And one of our friends, a girl who lived on the same street as me, had a father in the Stasi.

CARO:

How did it feel to be around her? Were you scared?

MARIANNE:

No, it was fine. It was never a real problem. We were just a bit more cautious. When she was around we would just avoid talking about certain topics. So, in that sense, it was pretty straightforward. But I’m sure her father got involved when we were caught with Club 13. We probably owe him saying, “Nah,

they’re harmless, this is all nonsense.” We were at that age where, honestly, we could have been hauled

in somewhere. If we had done anything serious, we would have been in real trouble.

(Pause.)

CARO:

I have to say I’m a little surprised. I thought you’d remember the Russians as a kind of oppressive force

or something. You seem very casual about it all.

MARIANNE:

It’s hard to explain it but that was my normal. It’s only with hindsight that you can see how much it affected our lives. The lack of freedom. You know… they would stop to ask for ID in the street.

CARO:

Yeah, I thought they also would just take people off the street if they didn’t have papers on them. I’m

sure I read once that if the Russian guards noticed that the number of prisoners no longer matched

because one had escaped, been shot, or beaten to death, they would simply grab someone from the street who happened to be near.

MARIANNE:

That probably did happen but it wasn’t my experience. You need to understand that before this, they were our liberators, you know? Or that’s how we were taught, at least. At the end of the war, everyone had been so fearful of these ‘Soviets’ and then they came in with flowers on their tanks. Your great- grandparents passed down a more sympathetic view to me.

CARO:

Ok, but look at the real estate they took away… people must have been struggling even back then to find places. Surely it would have been incredibly frustrating to have all this space, all these houses and villas, taken up by the Russians.

MARIANNE:

Yes, I suppose that’s true but they had to live somewhere too, didn’t they?

CARO:

I think you’re giving them too much credit. It’s not as if they didn’t know what they were a part of. They

were willing participants.

MARIANNE:

(She sighs in frustration) You’re looking at things too literally. The world is not black and white. And a lot of the Russians living here were families just doing their best to get by. We all had to exist in these very complicated systems.

CARO:

Yeah, I know. I get they weren’t all willing or whatever. It’s messy, I guess.