A Woman in Berlin

THURSDAY, 7 JUNE 1945

Today the walking machine had the day off. I got up early to queue at the greengrocer’s for some pickled pumpkin. Unfortunately the stuff proved too briny for me to get down. Luckily I got two bunches of dried vegetables – known as ‘shredded wire’ – and a bag of dried potatoes. On top of that I picked a handbagful of nettles in the gardens outside the ruined buildings, elegantly plucking them using the fishnet gloves I saved from my air-raid gear. I devoured them greedily, even drinking the greenish stock I’d boiled them in, and felt properly refreshed.

After that I calculated that my period was over two weeks late, so I strode seven buildings down to where a woman doctor had hung her signboard, though I’d never seen her before and didn’t even know if she had started practising again. Once inside I met a blonde woman, not much older than me, who received me in a wind-battered room. She’d replaced the windowpanes with old X-rays of unidentified chests. She refused to engage in small talk and got right down to business. ‘No,’ she said, after examining me. ‘I don’t see anything. Everything’s all right.’

‘But I’m so late. I’ve never had that before.’

Do you have any idea how many women are experiencing the same thing? Including me. We’re not getting enough to eat, so the body saves energy by not menstruating. You better see that you get a little meat on your bones. Then your cycle will get back to normal.’

She asked for 10 marks, and I handed them to her. But I felt bad – after all, what could she do with that? After we were through I risked asking whether there were indeed lots of women who’d been raped by the Russians and were now pregnant and coming and asking her for help.

‘It’s better not to speak of such things,’ she said curtly, showing me out.

A quiet evening, all to myself. Gusts of wind are sweeping through the empty window frames, swirling dust into the room. Where can I possibly go if the real tenant shows up one day? What’s certain is that, if I hadn’t been here, the apartment would long since have been cleared out by the roofers and various other fellow citizens. When it comes to heating, other people’s furniture burns better than your own.