Auls de easchte Menniste von Rußlaund noh Dietschlaund fiefentwintijch Joah tridj kaume, weare see rund omm'e Klock fe Seele volla Fräd enn Desche volla Brot dankboa. Daut Jeld, woohnt se vonne dietsche Rejearung tjreaje, wea von ahn een Teatjen doavon, daut Gott ahn besondasch goot wea. Donn hilde se aulwewäaje Dankfaste, enn vespruake schmock enn jehuarsom fe de neajchste dusend Joah too senne. Oba soohne Schmockijchtjeite dachennnacht woat dem Mensch auljemeen boold ennoolent, enn de stiewe Sälenstrenj vom Jehuarsom woare measchtens boold schlaup nohdem eena dee enjebroake haft. "Enn dann vezaubeld eena sijch enne schlaupe Strenj, ooda eena klunjt doaräwe," säd Brune Peeta emma. Enn Peeta wisst.
Grootellre enn Ellre, dee sijch enne Effentlijchtjeit niemols omfoohte enn beleib nijch kusste, haude nu enn Dietschlaund Tjinja, dee hundat Joah enn noch meea daut Bedarfnis haude, em schmunje eenjet nohtoohohle. Enn boold nijch blooss de Tjinja. Onse Mensche nanne soohn Benehme weltlijch.
Enn nijch blooss de Tjinja, säd etj? Joh, daut säd etj.
Enn wiels dee Jeschijchte, dee uck wertjlijch soo send, soo ess aus miene fromme Groottaunte Jreeta emma säd: "eene goastaje Jeschijcht ess väl intressaunta aus utjedochte Schmockijchtjeite" well etj junt dee vetalle. Kaun nuscht schohde, Taunte Jreeta word 93 Joah oolt. Enn see wea breedajemeendsch.
Henritj Wiebe wea eena, dee soohne schwoare Lohd von Dankboatjeit druach, daut hee meist nijch steil gohne kunn. Hee haud eenen gaunzen Rucksack voll Dankboatjeit oppem Puckel, kratjcht soo auls daut mott. Oba mett de Tiet, tjreajch dee Rucksack een Lochtje enn doaderjch word Henritj siene Laust leijchta. Toom Biespell, dree Joah nohdem hee enn Dietschlaund aunjekohme wea, fuah hee aul eene seea groote Koah; fief Joah lohta haud hee sien eajnet Hus, enn meist von Aunfong aun, haud hee dartijch Mensche, aules Menniste, dee fe ahm em Bujeschaft oabeide. Enn zeowents haud hee feftien Frulied enn Mäadtjess, dee fe ahm enn Jeschafte enn Buros rein muake, wosche, enn schieade.
"Daut wausche, schieare woat sijch loohne,
"Wann jie Wiebe Henritj phoone," stund jeschräwe.
Daut diead dann uck nijch lang bett Henritj Wiebe aunfong auleen Ferien too hoole enn uck nohm Kurort too foahre; hee musst, säd'a: "Mol gaunz auleen entspaune, omm sijch selwst tjanne too leahre." Daut ess soo de dietsche Mood, soo's jie weete.
Enn de Wiebsche? Noh eenem haulwen Joah em Waste, haud see uck een nieet Läwe entdatjcht, enn see jintj boold huachhackijch romm, enn wackeld sogoa een bät mett de Owesied. Boold weare ahr uck aul Kaffeekränzchen nuscht nieet, enn see leeht biem Koffedrintje ut eene Rosenthaltauss sogoa ähren tjlansten Finja enne Loft een bät weppre. Apfeltorte mett Schlagsahne kaume dann boold hinjeraun.
Eenes Doagess haud Trudie, joh soo heet see, "jenuag ess jenuag" enn see säd gaunz eenfach: "Waut Schmauntfat fe den Gaunta ess, ess uck Schmauntfat fe de Gauns," packt ähren nieen Wildlada Schemmedaun enn dann, aun eenem diestren enn schmuddajen dietschen Dach loht em Winta, steajch see enn een Zug enn reist eenfach noh Italien auf. Doa siedlijch vonne Aulpe lachde de junge Mensche, enn sunge `O solo mio!'enn drunke sogoa Wien, wann'et ahn schlajcht jintj, aunstaut too doohne, waut Menniste enn Dietsche dann doohne: vom Jinjsten Jerejcht ooda vom grooten Triebsaul too räde, enn woo schratjlijch doch aules toonijcht enne Welt ess, ooda eene Jebädstund hoole. Ooda vonne Missjoon iewrijch schwietre.
Oba nu ess'ess Tiet, daut jie de tjliena Tjinja too Bad schetje, wiels waut etj junt nu vetalle well, ess bloos fe groote Uahre, joh? "Joh!"
Aum tweeden Owend saut Trudie Wiebe aum Desch oppem Boulevard bute, dijcht biem Forum Romanum enn Rom, enn toom easchten Mol enn äahre sassendartijch Joah aut see auleen Owendkost (fe de Reis haud see selwst jebackte Tweeback, mett jereatjadet Schintjefleesch, een Kulla Formaworscht, een poah Suregurtje, enn een Schruwglaus voll Ditjemaltj mettjenohme). Trudie brocht äahre Henj bie, woohne Gaufel eena too woohnem Ätesgang bruckt, enn woohn Läpel dann aune Reaj wea, enn waut see mett ähre schmocke Beentjess doohne musst, enn wanneea see ähren tjlienen Finja Dirijent späle lohte wudd, aus mett eenmol een jleia Reema sijch aun äahrem Desch hansad. Enn dissa wea soo heeflijch aus een Kavaliea, enn soo grootsindagsch aus een Reiesprädja aunjetrocke, blooss daut dis Giovanni een Paisley Schneppelduak ute Brostfupp rutsteajte leeht.
Senior Roma saut uck mau affens, auls aul eene Buddel mett Rootwien oppem Desch stund, mett twee Jläsa. "Enn Rußlaund em Darp wudd etj dissem Ooltnäs eent mett dem Bassem äwrem Puckel resse, enn en Dietschlaund wudd hee mie vetalle, waut hee aules haud enn kunn, enn enn Kanada wudd hee Jeld fe goode Zwatje saumle, ooda fe de Missjoon, enn hiea?" soo docht Trudie: "Wann hee een Aupel wea, wudd etj ahm een bätje aungnaubre," fuscheld see too sijch selwst, oba donn leeht see Massa enn Gaufel faule, enn heiwd sijch selwst eent verrem Schnoweltje.
See aut gaunz langsom äahren Osso Bucco mett lange Tjieltje noh de italienische Oat enn uck een Tweeback ut Kuckeruzzmehl jebackt (enn fruach uck fuats noh daut Rezapt), enn erlaubd äahre Uage dreemol bie dissem Uchazhor spezeare too gohne. Dann hold see äahre Uagtjess wada tridj enn säd, see haude Tus too bliewe. Fuats oppe Städ!
Oba Trudie gauf äah Glauss Wien Erlaubnis nohda too kohme, wiels Senior Roma biem aunsteete, eene Lienje von dem Drunkleed ut La Traviata doabie sommd. Oba see drunk mau een Neihootvoll, enn nijch eea see sijch omjetjitjt haud, omm too seehne, aus doa uck tjeen Mennist medden en Rom vebiestat wea. Oba doa wea uck nijch een eensja, dem ahr bekaunt väakaum, enn dem'et plautfootijch sach, enn mett eenmol wea daut Glauss wada bie ahr verre Leppedäah. Enn dann noch eenmol, oba mau blooss om uttoofinje, waut see bett nutoo nijch vemisst haud, enn uck nijch wiedahans vemisse wudd.
Dee Reema heet Giocomo Verdimonti enn Trudie späld sijch den Nohme een poah mol väa, dee wea soo jlei...waut dee Nohme woll bediede kunn? Scheen wear'a. Oba doamett nijch jenuag: ahr jefoll diss Tjeadel sogoa een bätje, enn aus Trudie dann noch sach, daut hee Guccis druag enn eene Rolex omhaud, enn daut hee oba uck goanijch, nijch mol een tjlienet Bestje nohm Staul ooda noh Gummschooh ritjcht, enn aus hee dann noch soo lieseltjes een Schnädtje von dee Melodie "La donna e mobile" piepad, word Trudie enn, daut see doch Frindschauft mett Eva wea, enn see muak de Nieschieadäah eene Retz ohp...
Twee Wäatj lohta wea Trudie betjeat. Eascht haud see een grulijch schlajchtet Jewesse enn treest sijch mett de groote Woahrheit utem Oolen Testament, dee see nu gaunz enn goa vestund: Eenmol ess soo goot ess tjeenmol, tweemol ess dautselwje aus eenmol, enn mett de Tiet sogoa noch weinja...
Aus Trudie den Zug noh Hus besteaj, wea Giacomo aune Bohn enn nannd ahr "Schnuckieputzie" enn see nannd ahm "Schmaundbenjel" enn doabie gauf Giocomo ahr een Aufscheedsjeschentj. Een Pelz, Mackenzie River willa Nerz, wallijch enn läwendijch, enn weatjch enn mollijch. Enn gaunz aundasch auls see mol jeheat haud:
"Een Pelz enn feine Sied,
Jeziemt sijch nijch fe mennische Lied."
Henritj Wiebe wea nijch aune Bohn auls siene Fru enn Bielefeld aunkaum; hee haud'et too drock mett Jeld opp sien Aunbolt too schmäde enn uck goode Woatje uttoorejchte. Oba woa nu han mett dem straumen Pelz, oba, oba! Trudie Wiebe jintjch jlitjch opp soohnen Schlutschaup, woavon see hundade enne groote Bohnstatsjoone habe, enn schoof den Pelz doa langsom nenn. Dann stritjcht see den noch eenmol leeftolijch enn gauf dem eenen saunften Kuss, läd eene Moatj enn dee tjliene Retz, enn fuppad sijch den Schlätel enn.
"Henritj, heea! Horch mol häa," säd Trudie too äahrem Maun biem Owendkost: "Etj fung toofallijch eenen Schlätel enne Bohnstatsjoon; wäa weet, vleijcht sullst du mol bie Jeläajenheit doahan gohne, enn tjitje auls dis Schlätel vleijcht fe soohn Schlutschaup pausst, waut meenst?" Henritj Wiebe säd nuscht, oba hee fuppad sijch den Schlätel enn.
Twee Wäatj lohta jinje Wiebe noh de easchte Oper enn Düsseldorf enn ährem Läwe. De Oppfeahrung wea "La Forza del Destino" aulso Dee Macht vom Schetjsaul opp italjeanisch. De Isaak Waulsche, dee uck opp äahre Oat verr kortem dit enn jant vom Schmaundfat Rezapt utjefunge haud, wea een bät eentjannijch auls see Trudie doa troff. Tjeen Wunda, auls see de Oper veleehte, druag de Isaak Waulsche den reemischen Pelz.
When the first Mennonites arrived in Germany from Russia some twenty years ago, they were thankful around the clock for having their souls full of peace and their tables full of bread. The cash money that the Germans gave them upon arrival certainly helped to make sleep and dreams more bearable. Moreover such Deutschmarks, - mark also meaning marrow in German, was readily attributable to God's guidance and direction.
So they promised to be nice and well-behaved and obedient maybe even for a thousand years but such good behaviour has a way of becoming unbearable and somehow the traces of the harness of niceness tend to go slack very soon after being broken in. "Then you either get caught in the slack, or you step over it," as Peter Braun used to say. And Peter knew.
Grandparents and parents, who never or rarely displayed any affection in public, now had children in Germany who felt they had a century and more of catching up to do in the smooching department. And soon not only the children. People called such behaviour worldly.
And soon not only the children, did I say? Yes, that's what I said.
Because this is really true I want to tell you about it; after all, "a naughty story which is really true is even more interesting then invented nicenesses," said my grand-aunt Margaret. And she lived to be 93.
Heinrich Wiebe also belonged to such people, who on account of his heavy load of gratitude, could barely walk erect when he arrived in Germany. He had a whole bag of thankfulness on his back, just like it ought to be. However before long, that bag sustained a hole and lightened Henrich's burden. For instance, three years after his arrival in Germany he drove a really big car; five years later he owned his own house and almost from the beginning he had thirty people, all Mennonites, working for him on a construction gang. And evenings some fifteen women and girls worked for his business, cleaning, washing and scrubbing, mainly offices. "You need cleanin' or some rubbin'? Get Wiebe's staff to do your scrubbin'" it was written.
It was not long before Wiebe started taking solo vacations and going to spas; he had to, "relax completely in order to re-acquaint me with myself," he liked to comment. After all, such is the German mode, as one knows.
As for the Mrs. Wiebe? After half a year in the West, she too had acquired a brand new lease on life and soon she knew how to prance about in high-heeled shoes and she even developed a bit of a wiggle on her rumble seat. When having the German equivalent of British high tea, namely coffee, Mrs. Wiebe encouraged her pinky finger to dance in the air while she ("call me Trudie") sipped coffee and ate apple torte with fresh whipped cream at wealthy neighbours or in her own home.
Then, one fine day, Trudie she "had had enough" and simply said, "What is Schmauntfat (cream gravy) for the gander is also Schmauntfat for the goose" and packed her newly acquired suede valise and then, in the middle of a dull and dreary German winter day, took off by train for Italy. There south of the Alps the sun shone, young people laughed, people drank a glass of wine and even sang when they suffered trials and tribulations instead of doing what the Germans and Mennonites do, which is to talk about Judgement Day and how terrible, how dreadfully terrible things are, or to take off to a prayer meeting. Or to twitter about missions.
But now the time has come to send the children off to bed, because what I am now about to tell you is meant only for adult ears.
The second evening Trudie Wiebe was sitting at a table on a broad sidewalk restaurant, close to the Forum Romanum and having the first dinner in her thirty-six year life by herself (for her train trip she had packed some home-made double-decker buns, smoked ham, a chunk of farmer sausage, a couple of dill pickles and a pickling jar of thickened sour milk). Trudie was teaching her hands which fork to use and which spoon was to do her bidding, and what to do with her shapely legs, and how her new-for-the-trip outfit looked on her, and when she should allow her pinky to play conductor, when suddenly a sprightly Roman seated himself at her table. He was as polite as a cavalier and as high-Sundayly dressed as an itinerant minister, only that this Giovanni had a paisley silk handkerchief doing its own thing from his outer chest pocket.
Senor Roma was barely sitting when a bottle of wine was already standing on the table. "In Russia I would have swatted this cocky slicker one with the broom over his muffler, while in Germany he would tell me all about his ambitions and successes and in Canada he would be raising causes or collecting for charity or the mission, but here?" so thought Trudie. "If he were an apple, I'd take a nibble," she whispered to herself, then dropped knife and fork and slapped her little snoot a reprimand.
She ate her way through the Osso Bucco with long strings of pasta and a salad and white corn meal rolls, (and right away asked for the recipe for these) while just occasionally daring a side glance at this perky dandy. Then she would pull her eyes off him and tell them to stay put.
But Trudie permitted her glass to submit to the will-o'-the-wisp and she had just a thimble full of the relaxant, but not before looking around to see if any Mennonite was drifting hard by. But there was no one who looked even vaguely familiar and who knew Low German and then she found the wine glass suddenly making its way to her lips again. And then again, but just so she would know in future what she was really not missing.
The Roman's name was Giocomo Verdimonti and Trudie rather liked that name. Not only that, she found him attractive and when Trudie noticed that he wore Guccis and a Rolex and that he bore not even a faint hint of the aroma of stable or gumshoes, and even, occasionally, whistled a lilt of "La donna e mobile" to himself, Trudie developed closer connection with our relative Eve: she opened the barn doors of curiosity.
Two weeks later Trudie was converted. First she had a dreadfully guilty conscience and consoled herself with the great Old Testament truth which she now completely and fully and finally understood: Once is as good as nothing at all, twice is the same as once, and as time goes by is even less than once....
When Trudie boarded the train for home, Giocomo was at the station and called her "Schnuckieputzie" while she called him "Honey-Bunny" and Giocomo gave Trudie a gift of farewell. A coat, full length, Mackenzie River wild mink, supple and alive and reminding of the ditty's reversal: "Men of thrifty ilk, give neither fur nor silk."
Heinrich Wiebe was not at the station when his wife arrived in Bielefeld; he was busy smithing money on his pecuniary anvil and doing good works. But what was she to do with this beautiful blanket? Trudie Wiebe headed for a railroad locker, carefully placed her coat in it, stroked it lovingly, then deposited one mark in the slot and took the key.
"Heinrich, listen," said Trudie to her man while having supper, "I found a key at the train station; who knows, maybe one should have a look and see if there is something in there. It seems like the key might fit a locker there, what do you think?" Heinrich Wiebe said nothing, but he pocketed the key.
Two weeks later Wiebes attended the first opera of their lives in Düsseldorf. The production was "La Forza del Destino" (The Force of Destiny) in Italian. Mrs. Isaac Wall, who also had recently discovered a thing or two about cream sauce for "ganders and geezers" as she said, made a little strange to Trudie or at least, so Trudie thought. Small wonder, when they left the opera, Mrs. Isaac Wall was wearing the Italian mink.