Rereading, maybe it was a little strong in the end. In truth, it's only half of the story of why I left. Half? Probably less.
Since
arriving at the beginning of September I've spent almost every
weekday morning at German language classes, trying to wrap my head
and tongue around this most inconsistent, bludgingly logical,
expansive and grammar-heavy of languages.
Along
the way I've discovered the joy/nightmare of compound nouns – individual words formed by joining two or three together (or many many more); particularly those individual words
that pinpoints a situation, emotion or feeling that in English we
need several lines for.
My
favourite so far is
Backpfeifengesicht
(Back/pfeifen/gisicht)
(n) a face that cries out for a fist in
it,
or ' a person with a face in need of a fist'.
This
one compound noun describes an emotion you might feel when looking at
a picture of, say, Jeremy Clarkeson, or people who play loud tinny
music from their phones on the bus, or, you know, Tories.
We
should totally import Backpfeifengesicht into the English language
immediately!
But
I came across two more compound German nouns that winded me like a
grammatical one-two to the stomach. These words cut straight through
the bluster and semi-comfortable narrative that I had built for
myself about my emigration, and forced me to coldly address my true
motives, even if at the time I wasn't even really aware of what they
were.
Torschlusspanik:
(n.): the fear, usually as one gets older, that time is running out
and important opportunities are slipping away
This
one word burrows down, laser-like, to the nub. Having spent 15-odd
years working for various wonderful organisations and with a
'achievements' CV that I am immensely proud of, I found myself
pushing 40 with limited career options, treading water, and with the
niggling feeling that life was passing me by elsewhere.
But
added to the Torschlusspanik that was lurking with intent around my
stupid head was utter campaign exhaustion and disillusionment with
British/English politics. I'd spent 15 years working with some of the
best people in the world on brilliantly worthwhile campaigns, and
with some minor successes along the way.
But
all the time I felt that the Tories, conservative ideology and the
right were winning, and would win ultimately, because they controlled
the story, the media, the state instruments (police, judiciary etc),
the House of Commons (with the Lib Dems, then), the story and,
really, the pre-Corbyn Labour Party.
The
Tories will use May 2015's surprise election win to destroy the lives
of millions. And this made me sink into severe
Weltschmerz
(n.): mental depression or apathy caused by comparison of the actual
state of the world with an ideal state.
15
million British (probably, mostly English), almost half of those who
voted,
voted for either the Tories or UKIP. And with that the tiny flame of
hope that I still held for England was extinguished. In its place a
resentment towards England grew.
I
think a lot of activists and campaigners suffer Weltschmerz at
some point, especially acute after the 2015 elections I imagine. But it's what you do to haul yourself out of it that counts.
Some people crack on, more determined than ever to fight for a better
world.
I
used to be one of those people.
But
when hit with a lethal cocktail of Weltschmerz and Torschlusspanik
over just a few months, I petulantly threw my toys out of the
pram and buggered off to a more progressive country for fun,
adventure and new opportunities.
Now then, where's that German grammar exercise book?
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