Zoo Station: The Story of Christiane F. Read online

  Zoo Station

  The Story of Christiane F.

  by Christiane F.

  © 2013 by Zest Books LLC

  First published in 2013 by Zest Books

  35 Stillman Street, Suite 121, San Francisco, CA 94107

  www.zestbooks.net

  Created and produced by Zest Books, San Francisco, CA

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means—graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval systems—without the written permission of the publisher.

  Teen Nonfiction / Biography & Autobiography / Social Issues / Drugs, Alcohol, Substance Abuse

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012936083

  ISBN: 978-1-936976-22-5

  Cover Design: Tanya Napier

  Book Design: Keith Snyder

  Translation: Christina Cartwright

  All photos courtesy of Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag Typeset in Sabon

  Manufactured in China

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  Every effort has been made to ensure that the information presented is accurate. The publisher disclaims any liability for injuries, losses, untoward results, or any other damages that may result from the use of the information in this book.

  Copyright text and photographs © Stern Verlag 2009 by CARLSEN Verlag GmbH, Hamburg, Germany First published in Germany under the title WIR KINDER VOM BAHNHOF ZOO All rights reserved

  FOREWORD

  This is the haunting, real-life story of Christiane Vera F.—a daughter, a sister, a student, and a typically rebellious teenager in 1970s Berlin. Like so many young people in every age and time, Christiane is eager to fit in and prove herself after her family first moves to the city. She desperately wants to wear the right clothes, listen to the right music, and hang out with the cool kids. More than that, though, she wants to find a way to deal with her abusive, alcoholic father, and learn the ropes at her new school.

  Sadly, Berlin was in the midst of a major heroin epidemic when Christiane's family arrived. Nothing was cooler than “H,” and in Christiane's search for acceptance and community she was always bound to encounter heroin at some point. Unfortunately for her, it all happened very fast. By the time she was 14 years old her daily concerns had already degenerated from questions about who she should date and which party she should go to, to what kind of a client she should be willing to tolerate in order to score her next fix.

  In telling her story Christiane was originally aided by two journalists (Kai Hermann and Horst Rieck), and they did a wonderful job of letting Christiane simply speak for herself. Whether she's talking about drugs, johns, clothes, David Bowie, or boyfriend troubles, her voice is always loud and clear. She is completely unguarded, and her profound self-consciousness gives us a very clear sense of what she sees when she looks out at the world; meanwhile, a fuller picture of Christiane's life is provided by the simultaneous accounts from Christiane's mother and a number of other adults involved in Christiane's life.

  Christiane's story has had a major impact on German culture to this day. Locations such as the Bahnhof Zoo subway station, the housing projects in Gropiusstadt, and even certain public bathrooms have all gained a share of notoriety and fame. Christiane's book is required reading in much of Germany, and has been translated into many other languages as well. When it was first released in the United States, in 1980 (under the title Christiane F.: Autobiography of a Girl of the Streets and Heroin Addict), it became an instant hit, resonating with teens, parents, and even David Bowie—who provided music for the film adaptation.

  Although Christiane's experiences on the streets of Berlin will be quite foreign to most readers, Christiane, as a character, does not wind up feeling distant on that account. In fact, even at the book's conclusion, after so much hardship and misery, Christiane remains in many ways a very typical teenager. We can all find something to relate to in the way that Christiane struggles for acceptance, resists all attempts to rein her in, and fights against herself, uncertainly. The urgency in her voice is timeless. For all these reasons and more, we are proud to be able to bring Christiane's story back to America with Christina Cartwright's excellent new translation.

  Even at the darkest times, Christiane manages to maintain a surprising kind of integrity. She always sees with the same eyes and speaks with the same voice. As a result, she has provided us with a stunningly honest and vital account not only of her own teenage years, but also of the powerful forces—both internal and external—that determine the course of our lives. Sometimes they lead us away from ourselves, and sometimes they bring us back home.

  Hallie Warshaw

  Publisher, Zest Books

  TRANSLATOR'S NOTE

  In translating this story I've made every effort to preserve Christiane's unique perspective and tone. Christiane has a biting, cynical wit that is still typical of many young Berliners (and which becomes especially prominent in the face of various authority figures), and it is my hope that the updated slang will help to hone the edge that is present in a lot of her commentary. In an effort to give a better sense of Christiane's surroundings, we've added footnotes about many of the locations, and also provided additional information about some especially German expressions and institutions. In all of my translation choices I have worked to maintain not only the tone of Christiane's voice, but also its vitality.

  This book has a very strong hold on me personally. As a teenager in the 1970's I spent a lot of time in Berlin, and I remember well what life was like in Berlin as a divided city. I know most of the locations mentioned in the book, and visited them at roughly the same time that Christiane did (although under very different circumstances). As a single parent, I can also sympathize with Christiane's mother's frustration, anxiety, and fear. I have a teenage son myself, and this book made me think more deeply about his daily life, and pay closer attention to his own set of trials. I think I've become a more compassionate listener as a result of the time I've spent with Christiane.

  Despite the measures that have been taken against teenage drug use and child prostitution in Germany and in the United States, these are still very real problems. And it goes without saying that, when it comes to peer pressure, alcoholism, depression, and familial strife, today's teenagers have it no easier than the teens of 1970s Berlin. I hope that this book will help teens gain some perspective on their own problems, and encourage them to take a fresh look at the choices that remain open to them—whatever their situation. I strongly believe that both teens and their parents both stand to gain a lot from reading Christiane's story.

  I am honored to have worked on translating this book into current, American English (with the help of my very talented editor, Daniel Harmon). I hope that it does justice to Christiane's voice and personality.

  Christina Cartwright

  THE CHARGE

  Excerpts from the state's attorney's charge against Christiane Vera F. at the state courthouse of Berlin, dated July 27, 1977.

  The student Christiane Vera F. is charged as a legally responsible juvenile with having used regulated narcotic substances continuously after May 20, 1976, without authorization by the Federal Department of Health.1 Moreover, the accused has been using heroin since February 1976, injecting herself with approximately one quarter of a gram each time—at first only intermittently, but then later on a daily basis. She has been criminally responsible and accountable since May 20, 1976.

  On March 1 and March 13, 1976, the accused was found in the halls of the Zoo and Kurfürstendamm subway s
tations, and searched for drugs. She had two substances containing heroin on her person, one weighing 18 mg and the other 140.7 mg.

  On May 12, 1977, the mother of the accused, Mrs. F., found a heroin-containing substance among her daughter's personal belongings, which she sent to the criminal division of the police. As a result, on that same day, a tinfoil packet containing 62.4 mg of a heroin-containing substance was confirmed to be among the personal effects of the accused. Heroin-related paraphernalia was also found among her personal effects. Laboratory tests revealed that there were heroin-containing substances adhering to the paraphernalia. Also, analysis of her urine revealed the presence of morphine.

  In her defense, the accused stated that she had been using heroin since February 1976. In addition, she had worked as a prostitute since the winter of 1976 to acquire the money she needed in order to purchase the drugs.

  It must be assumed that the accused continues to consume heroin today.

  _____________

  1 In the 1970s and 1980s, the German government's policy on drug use was extremely strict. In the years that followed, a number of experimental new policies were put into place, including “harm reduction,” a policy in which drug addicts are given low doses of drugs in a controlled environment. But at this time in Germany all drug users were considered criminals and expected to become drug-free.

  THE VERDICT

  Excerpts from the verdict of the Neumünster County Court, dated June 14, 1978. Verdict in the name of the people.

  In the criminal case against the student Christiane Vera F., for offenses against narcotics laws: The accused is guilty of continuous purchase of narcotics in concurrence with continuous tax evasion. Sentence of youth detention is suspended and the accused is placed on probation.

  Grounds: The accused experienced normal development up to her thirteenth year. She possesses above-average intelligence and fully understood that the purchase of heroin represented a punishable offense. Although there is sufficient evidence that the accused was already addicted to drugs by May 20, 1976 (before becoming criminally liable), this fact precludes neither her criminal responsibility nor her criminal liability. The accused was able to recognize the seriousness of her situation, and made an effort to stop using these drugs. She was therefore fully capable of recognizing the illegality of her conduct, and to act on that realization.

  The prognosis for her future is, at the moment, positive— even though her sobriety is far from guaranteed. In the near future, the continued progress of the accused must be monitored with care and attention.

  ZOO STATION

  It was all incredibly exciting. My mom had been packing suitcases and boxes for days. We were going to start a new life together.

  I had just turned six, and I was going to start attending school right after we finished with the move. While my mom was packing and getting more and more anxious, I hung out almost every day on the Völkl farm. I waited for the cows to be herded into the barn for milking. I fed the pigs and the chickens, and ran around and played crazy games in the hayloft with the other kids. I was able to carry the farm's kittens around with me. It was a wonderful summer, the first one that I remember consciously enjoying.

  I knew that we were going to leave soon and move to a large faraway city named Berlin. My mom flew ahead because she wanted to set up the apartment first. My little sister and my dad and I followed a couple of weeks later. It was the first time that my sister and I had ever flown anywhere. Everything was unbelievably exciting.

  My parents had told us wonderful things about the huge apartment with the six big rooms that we'd soon be living in. My parents were going to make a lot of money in Berlin. My mom said that we would each have our own big room. They were going to buy really nice furniture. She would describe what our rooms would look like in vivid detail. I know, because as a kid I never stopped fantasizing about that room. In my imagination, it became more and more beautiful with every passing day.

  I'll never forget what the apartment looked like when we actually arrived. I felt this deep-seated fear when I was in it. It was so big and empty that I was afraid I would get lost. If you spoke loudly enough, there was a spooky echo, too.

  Only three rooms had any furniture in them. In the kids' room there were two beds and an old kitchen cabinet for our toys; in the second room was my parents' bed; and in the biggest room we only had an old couch and a couple of chairs. That's how we lived in Berlin-Kreuzberg,2 on the north bank of the Spree River.

  After a few days, I finally took a chance and rode my bike down the street all by myself because I saw a few of the older kids playing outside. In the town where I grew up, the big kids always looked out for the little kids, and played with them. But right away the kids out front said, “What's she want here?” and took away my bike. When I got it back it had a flat tire and a bent rim.

  My dad spanked me because the bike was broken. From then on, I only rode my bike around our six rooms.

  Three of the rooms were actually supposed to function as an office because my parents wanted to run a dating service out of the apartment. But the desks and armchairs that my parents talked about never arrived. The kitchen cabinet stayed in the bedroom that I shared with my sister.

  One day a moving truck arrived, and the couch, beds, and kitchen cabinet were all transported to one of the tall apartment buildings in Gropiusstadt.3 So now, instead of living in the big place in Berlin-Kreuzberg, we were confined to two and a half small rooms in an eleventh-floor apartment. The big, expensive furniture that my mom always talked about would've never fit into the room now meant for us kids.

  Gropiusstadt: the projects. Home to 45,000 people, but mainly just a forest of high-rises, with some patches of green and shopping centers in between. From far away, it looked new and well taken care of. But when you got up close, you realized that the whole place reeked of piss and shit—because of all the dogs and kids that lived there. The stairwells smelled the worst.

  My parents hated the trashy kids who treated the staircases like their own personal bathrooms, but most of the time it wasn't their fault. I figured that out the first time I played outside and needed to pee. By the time the elevator arrived and I'd made it up to the eleventh floor, I'd already wet myself. My dad gave me a spanking. After the same thing happened a few more times, and after a few more spankings, I learned to just find a place where nobody could see me. And since people in high-rises could see almost everywhere, the safest place to pee out of sight was in a staircase.

  On the streets of Gropiusstadt, I was known as the stupid country kid. I didn't have the same toys as everyone else—I didn't even have a water gun. I wore different clothes. I talked differently.

  And I wasn't used to the games they played (but I also didn't like them). In the town where I grew up, we would ride our bikes into the woods, to a bridge over a little stream. When we got there, we'd build dams and forts—sometimes together and sometimes apart, but always side by side. And when we destroyed everything afterward, it was only after everyone had agreed to it, and we'd have fun tearing it all down. We didn't have a leader. Anyone could make suggestions for what kind of game we should play. Then we'd all argue back and forth until someone's suggestion won out. It wasn't even unusual for the older kids to let the younger ones have their way once in a while. We'd created a real democracy amongst us kids.

  In our section of the Gropiusstadt projects, there was one boy who was definitely in charge. He was the strongest and he also had the best water gun. We liked to play this game where we would pretend to be a gang of robbers, and he would always be the leader (of course). The most important rule for all of the other robbers was that they had to do whatever he said.

  But it didn't matter what kind of game we were playing—we were always competing with each other. The goal was to always try to annoy somebody else. So we'd do things like try and steal or break someone else's toys. The name of the game was superiority: beating people up to show you were bigger and stronger than they
were, and finding other little advantages that made you look better than everybody else. It was a dog-eat-dog world.

  If you were the weakest, you'd obviously get the most abuse. My little sister wasn't very strong, and she always looked scared, so people picked on her, but I couldn't really help.

  Then I started school. I'd been looking forward to it. My parents had told me to behave and to always do what the teachers said, but I thought that was a given. In the town where I came from, the kids respected the adults as a matter of course. And that's probably one of the reasons I was looking forward to school, because I thought that it would keep all of the other kids in line.

  But school was totally different than I expected. After just a few days, the kids would get up during class and run around playing tag. Our teacher was completely helpless. She kept yelling, “Sit down!” but then the kids would laugh at her, and everything would get even more chaotic.

  I'VE ALWAYS LOVED ANIMALS, ever since I was really little. Everyone in my family was crazy about animals. It made me proud. I didn't know any other family that loved animals like we did. I felt sorry for the kids whose parents didn't like animals and who weren't allowed to keep pets.

  It didn't take long for our already cramped living space to be transformed into a small zoo. I had four mice, two cats, two bunnies, one parakeet, and Ajax, our brown Great Dane, whom we'd brought with us when we moved to Berlin. Ajax always slept next to my bed. At night, I'd let one arm dangle out of my bed so that my hand was on his fur while I fell asleep.

  I found other kids who also had dogs, and I got along with them pretty well. It turned out that in Rudow—which was a neighborhood just outside of Gropiusstadt—there were still pockets of nature left. So that's where we headed with our dogs. We played on the old, earth-covered hills of the garbage dump, and our dogs were always a part of whatever it was we were doing. Our favorite game to play was a version of hide-and-seek that included our dogs. One of us would hide, and somebody else would hold onto that person's dog. Then the animal had to track down and find that person. My Ajax had the best nose of all.