Plattdeutsch - Plattdüütsch,
dat is un blifft mien Mudderspraak
Free at'n Vagel!
vun Johnny Meyer
Up'n Rad, so freehannig övern Diek to föhren, so luut singen at du wullt, lachen, un ut vullen Hals to schrien so veel at du wullt, dat weer nah usen Sinn. Maaken dee't jo nix , wi weern jo alleen, Hansi un ik, nüms kunn us seen un keen een kunn us hör'n, at wi dar so denn Diek endahl zuckeln deen.
De Diek weer tämlich hoch, up een Siet weer dat Moor un up de anner Siet weer wieter nix at Grassland, keen Boom, keen Struuk un keen Huus. Kieken kunns bit an't End vun de Wilt. De Straat de dar boben up'n Diek langs leep, de weer plaastert mit Steenen, een poar Löcker weer'n dar uk in, aber dar kun'ns jo man umto stürn, anners full's up'e Snut. Towielen keem uk maal een Auto, over de kunnen jo man eben hupen, wenn de an us vorbi wulln, de kunnen us all vun wieten seen. Wi nehmen de ganze Straat in, bold so at wenn se us gehörde. Vundaagen harrn wi maal so richtig een free't Geföhl, free at'n Vagel, wat scheert us de Rest vun de Wilt, hier weern wi, hier hörn wi hen.
Ik heff dar all faken over nah dacht, is jo schaad dat nich mehr so is, dat weern doch Tieten, damaals, wi weern just kumfermeerd wurrn, weern bold feertein Joahr old un wurn towielen uk all mit „Herr" ansnakt.
Up guntsiet vun Diek dar is jo de swimmende Insel, glieks neben Diek, de lüttje Deek wo de Insel in rumschippern deiht. De is jo graad nich all to groot, over dar kumm't jo nich up an. Wo sik dat hier um dreit, is de Insel, se kann vundaagen up disse Siet legen un denn, wenn de Wind sik dreit, denn liggt se up de anner Siet. Wenn't koolt is un de Wind ut'n Osten kummt, denn liggt de Insel an'ne West Siet, wenn't over soon rechtet Schietweer is, denn liggt de Insel up de Moorhuser Siet, vundaagen leeg se Mitten in , wuss woll nich wo se hen schull.
Wenn Du Glück harrs un mit'n Wind föhren kunns, denn maak't Spaß dar över'n Diek to föhrn, wenn over de Regen vun vorne kummt un de Wind di den Aam woller in Hals druckt, denn kann't angahn, dat de Wind di woller trüg schuvt, dar kann's di bi doot pedden, dar kumms kuum vor an. Dorum is dar uk up jeden End vun Diek een Wirtschaft. Dar kanns di woller verschnuben, kann's uk een Schinkenbrot un Koffee or Schluck un Beer kriegen. Is egol welk een Kröög Du inkeers, denn Kopp möss intrecken , hier un dar, wenn in'ne Siedeldöör rin geihst. De Finster, de gaht all bold bit up de Erd, sowiet weer'n de Hüser all wegsakkt, vun all dat Gewicht. Wi wull'n us uk eben verpusten, dar in Moorhusen, dat is dat Dörp up de anner Siet vun Diek. Vundaagen wull'n wi nich woller trüch föhrn övern Diek, nee, wi wull'n dör't Moor woller nah Hus to. Wi fleiten noch at wi in Moorhusen ankemen, holl'n an un wull'n man eben eene Brause drinken, man weet jo nich, wenneer een wat woller to drinken kriggt.
De Wirtsfro geev us glieks een Schaffuter, wi harrn ehr bi't Höhnerfodern stört, de Eier harr se uk noch nich rinholt un all dat for een poar Brause, de halbe Daag weer ehr all versaut wurn, blots wiel dat all woller klingelt harr, at wi in de Döör rinkemen.
Kunnen wi dat weten?
Wi keeken us man dumm an, drunken use Brause un föhrden wieter, wi harr'n de ole Klingel dar jo nich anboot, an'ne Döör. De Döör de nich mal open gung , dar moss uk noch eers mal mit'n Foot an pedden, so dat se overhaupt open maaken kunns.
Wi seten all woller up't Rad un weer'n ümmer noch darbi, ut to klamüsern of de Kröögersche viellicht an de verkehrte Siet vun ehr Bett upstahn weer, or of ehr een swatte Katt övern Weg loopen weer.
„Bis Du ganz un gar verrückt wurrn?", segg ik noch to Hansi, at he up mal vun't Rad affsprung, un dat Rad mitten inne Straat hensmeet. Dar stund he nu mit beiden Hann'n inn'e Taschen, fleite for sik hen, keek rund rum, of em uk woll een seen de un mit'n Maal pedde he dahl, harr glieks dar up uk all een Gildbütel in'ne Hand, de harr dar up de Straat leegen, he seeg over dat Band, wat dar antüddelt weer un dar stund he nu up. De Görn de achtern Hoogen seten un dar up luurt harrn, dat dar mal een vorbi kummt un sik bükken deit, dormit se dat gau wegtrekken kunnen. De harrn jo nich mit Hansi reekent. He reet den Geldbütel vun't Tüddelband aff, keek rin, weer leer, soon Schiet, weg darmit, rin in Toggraven. De Gildbütel is uk furn's affsopen, rup up't Rad un wieter gung't.
At wi nu vun de Straat affbögen deen, um up'n Sandwegg dör't Moor woller nah Hus to föhren, mossen wi achter'n anner'n föhren un de Snakeree wurd vun alleen sinniger, jeder kunn so vör sik hendrömeln. De Padd weer tämlich smaal, wi mossen up passen wo wi henföhrden, glieks neben denn Padd weer soon grooten Toggraven, weer bold twee Meter breet. Veele Lüd wohnden hier nich, avers nah soon Tiet, keem us doch so'n olen Opa in'ne Mööt. Ik keem so Hangen un Bangen an em vorbi, wiel ik vun Padd aff, up't Grass föhrde, un schuulde noch so nah achtern hen, um to seen of de Opa woll an Hansi vorbi keem. Nu weet ik nich recht, of Hansi em nich bi Tieten sehn harr or wat, ik seeg just at de twee mit ehre Lenkstangen an anner'n hauen'n deen un de Opa, - so in Zeitlupe, boben över'n Lenker weg, rin in Toggraven un weg weer he. Sien Rad leeg dar noch un dreide sik, dat weer over all'ns. Wi stunnen dar un wull'n us half dootlachen, dat harr so gau gahn un weer so komisch wesen. Over do up mal wurr'n wi wahr, dat de Opa nich woller hoch keem. Blots Blasen, anners nix, de weer'n uk noch up guntsiet, dar kunnen wi uk nich röverspringen. Do leep ik gau nah de Infohrt vun dat Stück Land, sprung dar över't Heck, leep so gau at ik man kunn, dar hen wo de Blasen hoch keemen, Hansi keem uk glieks achter mi anwetzen. At ik up'n Buuk leeg un dör dat Aantenkrut, Grass un Sliem nah denn Opa fischen de, holde Hansi mi ann'e Beenen fast, dat ik nich uk noch in'n Graven scheeten de. Toletzt kreeg ik denn Opa denn uk tofaten un wi trökken em woller an Land. Opa weer an japsen un hosten un spee dat Water ut, wischde sik dat Aantenkrut vun sien Brill aff , sien Mütz seet uk ganz full un he weer klitsche natt, och wat seeg he doch verdraten ut. Soon poar vun de Köh, de dar up de Wisch rumleepen, kemen uk nah us to, keeken us rein verdutzt an, at wenn se seggen wull'n: „wat maakt ji dar denn?" Wi holpen denn Opa woller nah sien Rad hen, at een vun sien Holschen dar noch an rumschippern weer. Wi froogten em noch of wi em noch mehr hölpen kun'n, -„Nä, Nä, ji lüttjen Snotterbucks, maakt man, dat ji nah Huus hen kamt." He nehm sien Rad un schuv dat bit nah de Brügg to. Wi hauden aff so gau at man gung, wiel wi angst harrn dat wi uk noch een achter de Ohren kreegen. At wi us noch mal umkeeken, dar stund de Opa in'ne lange Unnerbüx un rung sien Plünnen ut. De arme Opa, de weer us bold affsopen, dat harr liggt scheef gahn kunnt. Dar is us dat fleiten over doch bi vergahn, dat free'e Geföhl dat wi to eers noch harrn, dat harr us gau verloten.
Trüch nah: Miene to Huus Siet _ Homepage
Free as a Bird!
By Johnny Meyer
Going on a Bicycle across this dam, to sing as loud as you can, laugh as much as you feel like, feel like screaming from the bottom of your lungs, now that was to our liking. It didn't hurt anybody, not a soul could hear us, hardly anybody could even see us, we where all alone, we, my friend Hansi and I. The dam was quite high at least to our standards. On one side there is the moor and on the other side the sandy uplands of northern Germany. Grass on both sides so high, it would go up to the belly of a cow, good green Grass, but no trees no bushes and no homes on either side. The view was literally out of this world, certainly one could see the End of it, at least that's the way it looked to us. The road on top was made out of bricks had a few holes in it, some times a car would come by, but they could honk if they wanted to get by, they could see that we took in the hole road, left, right and the middle too. Today we had this really free feeling, we felt as free as a bird. The rest of the world did not bother us, this is where we where and this is where we belonged.
I thought many times since than, that really it is to bad, things have changed to what they are today. Those where the wonderful times of yesteryear, last spring we had been confirmed, now the world was open, even to us, we where all of fourteen years old and proud of it.
At the other End of the dam there was a tiny pond with an Island in it, the Island swam, the wind pushed it around. It's not the size of the pond that matters its the Island that is of importance here. It could happen that this little Island would be over here today and after a wind shift be over there tomorrow. When ever it got cold, the wind would come from the east, the island would be in the west, but if the weather turned really sour, then it would be on the Moorhausen side, that's the little village at the other End of the dam. Today the Island was in the middle probably didn't know where to go.
If you had Luck and had the wind behind you, when you crossed the dam, it could be a lot of fun to let the wind push you across. But with rain or snow and ice blowing at you, the wind so strong it would push the breath right back into you, and you had to fight for every inch of the way, one would be completely exhausted after a crossing like that. That's why there was a Restaurant on either End of the dam, where one could rest up, get a nice ham sandwich and Hot coffee, or a Beer and whisky. Before entering either place you had to pull your head in if you entered through the side door, even the windows where almost to the ground, that's how far the buildings had sunk, from all that weight over all the years.
We also wanted to take a little rest, and drink lemonade. We where still whistling as we pulled up to this restaurant, stopped, went in and almost right of the bat this waitress started laying into us, she complained that just for a few little lemonade's, we had disturbed her chores at feeding the chickens. She didn't even had had time yet to gather the eggs, all because the door bell had rung again, now half of her day was ruined. How could we know? It certainly was not our fault that the doorbell had rung, we didn't install that bell, not only that, but also that lousy door wouldn't open properly either, we even had to kick it first. We where just dumb founded, drank our lemonade and left. Back on our bicycles we where still trying to figure out if she had gotten out of bed on the wrong side or if a black cat had crossed her way, either way she sure was a sour puss.
„Are you crazy?" I yelled at Hansi when he suddenly stopped, through his bicycle down in the middle of the street, put both hands in his pockets and started walking, looking around , whistling, hoping nobody would see him, as all of a sudden he stepped on some thing really hard, he bend down and picked up a billfold, that was laying in the street, tied to a string and he stood on top of the string. The kids behind the hedge, hoping some body would come along and bend down, so that they could pull that billfold away at that time, had not figured on Hansi. He ripped that billfold of the string looked into it, empty, rats, no good, and he through it into the big drainage ditch and in nothing flat it drowned and he was back on his bicycle. Since we had to turn off the main road in order to go through the moors, we had to take this narrow dirt path now, right next to the drainage ditch. No longer could we ride side by side, from now on it was one behind the other and consequently our talking slowed down too. Each of us kind off dozed off, all we had to do, is watch out that we stayed on the path. Not too many people lived in these moors, and there for there was practically no traffic of any kind. Except that all at ones out of nowhere, here was this older man, he came on his bicycle, going the opposite way as we. In order to let him get by, I had to drive on to the Grass strip and in a somewhat jerky way we passed each other O.K. By the shakiness of the older man, some how I had a hunch, as I looked back, just to witness as Hansi and the older man touched their handlebars. In slow motion the older man took a dive over the top of his own handlebars right into the big drainage ditch, head first and he was gone. The only evidence of his ever existence, was his still turning bicycle, next to the path half way in the ditch. But he was gone, nothing, no sign of him, just a few bubbles and they where on the other side of the ditch. We had gotten off our bicycles and at first started to laugh, since it all happened so fast and looked so funny, at least to us. But then we realized that he just did not come back up. Only a few bubbles on the other side, the ditch was too wide to simply jump across, so I ran to the entrance of this peace of land on the other side. Jumped over the gate and ran to the spot where the bubble's came from. As I laid down on my stomach, Hansi, he also ran behind me, held onto my legs, to keep me from sliding into the ditch, and after I fished for the old man for a while I finally got a hold of him and we pulled him back on land. He was coughing and spitting and socking wet, the duckweed's and other slime hung off of his glasses and also some of it draped over his hat, he sure was a sorry looking mess. A few of the cows on this pasture came over and gave us this wondering look. We helped him back to where our bicycles where, and asked if we could do any thing else for him, he just said:" no, no you sons of bucks, just leave me alone, just go home." With that he picked up his bicycle and pushed it toward a wooden bridge. When we looked back, we could see him standing there in his long underwear, wringing out his clothing. That poor older man, he could have drowned, we where lucky and so was he. It sure took the wind out of our sails and we also didn't whistle any more.
Trüch nah: Miene to Huus Siet - Homepage
E - mail:
