Dear Semra,
I have made so many attempts at trying to find the right words. Speaking with you gives me courage, makes me sad. I am starting to find my voice, to put an end to the silence.
My name is Bassam, I am seven years old.
It is a sunny day in 1982, Berlin Neukölln, Hermannplatz. I remember a gathering of people, perhaps a rally, a demonstration. I sense a threatening mood. I pick up something that sounds like ‘foreigners out’.
I don’t understand what that means.
Before I realise what’s going on or can ask, my father grabs my hand and quickly pulls me in a different direction. I notice how he quickens his steps.
I can’t find the words. I can feel my father’s panic rising … and when we get home, I don’t dare speak, let alone ask my father:
What does ‘foreigners out’ mean? And where to?
Your name is Semra Ertan.
I hear your name, I see your face.
I see a young woman.
I see a petrol station … in Hamburg St. Pauli.
It’s 24 May 1982, it’s 5:15 in the morning …
It’s damp, it smells of petrol.
Petrol, in a canister, that you had purchased at a petrol station.
You recite your poem ‘My name is Foreigner’.
Your body on fire.
Silence.
Dear Semra,
your words, your texts, your poems live on in us.
Your speaking puts an end to the silence.
You have lent strength to my voice.
I speak with Semra and about Semra and in memory of Semra.
Semra Ertan. Your name will not be forgotten.
Semra Ertan was a writer, labour migrant, and political activist.
On 24 May 1982, Semra Ertan publicly burned herself to death in Hamburg to draw attention to the unacceptable conditions of migrant workers and growing racism in Germany. She wrote over 300 poems, satires, and political essays. In 2020, 82 of her poems were published under the title ‘Mein Name ist Ausländer’ (My Name is Foreigner). In 2021, she was honoured with a poetry commendation and the Alfred Döblin Prize.
