Darmstadt, Germany Foreigners' Festival

Story and photos by Alf B. Meier

Every tenth "German" isn't German, or at least this is what the official statistics in Germany show.

So who are these people?

Naturally these individuals do not have German citizenship: they are what used to be officially termed "Gastarbeiter" (translated as guests who work here) and the modern term for them is "Auslaendische Mitbuerger" (foreign co-citizens).

The word constructions denote the ambiguity between need and acceptance Germans have toward foreigners on their soil. Traditionally Germany's middle class does not accept anything foreign, and foreign means literally "is not from here."

Germans have a hard time accepting somebody from the next village over as one of their own---much less somebody who hardly speaks their regional dialect, and even less so if somebody does not even speak German.

In the 1950s and '60s Germany's industry could sell much more than Germans could produce, so Germany's government came up with the idea of inviting people from other countries to work in Germany for a few years, earn some money and go home.

Well, at least part of that idea was successful: people came and worked. The majority has stayed for generations to work some more.

While many officials seem blind to any integration problems, some cities such as Darmstadt discovered xenophobia (hatred of strangers) was just a mixture of ignorance, arrogance and fear. Darmstadt decided to do something about it. This led to the birth of the Auslaenderfest in 1983.

The annual "Auslaenderfest" or Foreigners' Festival is held every August and grows in popularity by the year. Superficially, the outdoor celebration evolves around eating, drinking, and enjoying the performances on stage, but in reality it serves as a good remedy against one of the components of xenophobia---ignorance.

Every national origin with more than one person living in Darmstadt seem to be represented with a little stand or table or, like the very small group of Ethiopians, with only a small fire and a can to warm their local coffee.

Music and folklore is presented on stage---ranging from samba from Brazil to Indian sitar music to Spanish flamenco dancing, and all performances are well received, though maybe not perfectly understood.

There is no admission fee and you can see as many shows as you please. Though there is a set program, rules are few. It's fine if an Afghan drummer decides to join the sitarists on stage for a set.

Most of the cultural groups happily hand out brochures. From these you'll find out about the regular meetings of the local Spanish Parents' Club, the German-Bulgarian Association or the Vietnamese Students' Association, for example. You'll learn the Israeli-Palestinian Solidarity Circle offers month-long Arabic courses in Israel.

Tasting all the international food specialities and drinking a little something at each stand would be impossible as there is just too much, but this festival is a place where you can have egg rolls followed by gyros, washed down by Guinness, and not feel the least bit guilty. Getting to some of those other tasty offerings is a good reason to go back the following year.

I am not sure if it was intended or by accident that stands of nations not friendly with one another were placed side-by-side---Turkey alongside Greece and Eritrea next to Ethiopia.

The festival becomes a time to greet neighbors and the fact that these two groups are using their knives to cut food instead of each other signifies the festival is a remedy against xenophobia's second element, fear.

I am afraid there is not much one can do about arrogance, but two out of three is not bad.