Contradictions by Jean Pestell

Contradictions

I remember the bomb-sites
but not the buildings,
talk of the enemy,
although I never met one,
blackout curtains,
not the bomb in Hendon that shattered our windows.

I remember our Jewish neighbours, the Beckharts,
not why they’d left Wiesbaden,
hearing Yiddish spoken by local shopkeepers,
never questioning why they were here.
I remember turning on their lights on the Sabbath
but not why they had to pay me to do it.

I remember going to a Catholic school,
even though I was C of E,
nuns leaving for missions in Africa,
yet so few of them were really kind.
I remember buying an African child for half a crown to be ‘saved’
but never felt shame as I put a gold star in my scrapbook

I remember going to school in France later
but not why they blamed me for the war;
they said we’d bombed their port of Brest,
not that the Fuhrer’s ships were sheltering there.

I remember learning about prejudice early
but not how to justify it.

I remember my first ever German friend from Dusseldorf
but not the significance of her mother’s pension from Krupp;
her father was killed by the Allies
but I didn’t understand why he’d fought against us.

I remember my first German boyfriend in Spain,
not why he’d been on of the Hitler Youth,
our shared love of art, literature and philosophy,
not the fiancée he’d already had in Hamburg.
I remember breaking up with another boyfriend,
yet will never forget that gin doesn’t make misery disappear.

I remember learning about life’s contradictions early
and not to forget to remember that.

Copyright jean pestell April 2010