Across the Fence: Erlaubt and Verboten

Because opposites attract, I thought I’d ponder two Germanism in the American/English language that you might have come across over here: erlaubt (pronounce: er-‘loupt, meaning permitted) and verboten (pronounced: ver-‘boh’ten, meaning prohibited). It’s what every German grows up with. Only, I cannot remember any “Erlaubt” signs anywhere. Maybe because once there is no “Verboten” sign, it is implicitly permitted.

When I was little, we used to live in a huge apartment complex probably built in the fifties and interspersed with lawns and trees. Each row of apartment houses had open-air clothes lines at one side of the building and a sandbox at the other. While we kids knew it was verboten (by our mothers) to play close to the clothesline (it WAS intriguing to walk through the fragrant laundry and see what was hung, all the different colors and sizes, especially hiding between the sheets!), we also knew that the sandbox was our assigned territory. Now, you cannot expect two dozen of kids all ages to stick to a sandbox. Of course, we met outside these limits, especially the older kids. And we all know that playing hide and seek and big circle games doesn’t work in a miniscule sandbox. So, guess what: we spilled over and played all over the neighborhood, in the bushes and under the trees. And, of course, we knew it was “Verboten” because that is what a sign in the middle of each lawn said. I wasn’t able to read then but knew it well enough. And it surely was enforced by one ground floor neighbor in particular whom I will remember screaming from his balcony every time we kids appeared on this one particular lawn. (I wouldn’t do right by this gentleman if I didn’t also mention that he sought me ought on the day our family moved away and that he gave me the incredible fortune of five Deutschmarks for a good start in the new neighborhood!).

One of my favorite books as a kid was German author Otfried Preussler’s “The Robber Hotzenplotz”, which is basically the German version of a Punch and Judy puppet theater story with “real” characters. It contains a protagonist Kasperl (clown) and his sidekick Seppel, a grandmother and her dog that is turned into a crocodile, a policeman, a scary wizard, and a beautiful fairy. In one of the scenes, Kasperl is on a quest and comes upon doors that carry signs on which “Verboten” turns into even sterner prohibition. What pleasant goosebumps this raised on a child’s back when Kasperl walked through the first door, knowing he was already trespassing – and now even worse! The scene in the movie with Gert Froebe as the robber did certainly right by the book on all levels. Here’s the trailer of a more modern version of the movie containing a taste of the Verboten scene:

Now, I don’t want to imply that “Verboten” signs create the desire in children to transgress. They usually do in places where they don’t seem to make sense. The clothes line’s off-limits was a given because we didn’t want our mothers to have to do laundry all over again. There were no dryers back then, so the business of getting laundry hung and down dry again for the next neighbor’s turn was a priority over fun even in a kid’s mind.

Construction site fences often bore “Verboten” signs. Or doors in stores that offered staff entry only. Basically, we knew that it was mostly a matter of safety for one party or another. Being taught respect, we knew where the consequences would be simply a few rash words or a painful reminder to pay obedience to the signs.

I remember a play at one of my favorite children’s theaters in the early mid-70s where the stage was plastered with “Verboten” signs that limited children’s freedom of movement. I understood the message when we kids were permitted to go on stage and make suggestions for what towns should take care of, so kids would feel free. It was the anti-authoritarian movement at its last limps that created the play. As adventure playgrounds sprouted all over my native town of Stuttgart and kids played with saws, hammers, and nails without supervision or limits, I realized I didn’t lack freedom of mobility or opportunity of involvement in using adult tools, anyway. I simply didn’t like the vibe of the playgrounds – they felt … junky. I preferred the hide and seek games around our apartment blocks at home way more. Even if it meant that we were scared off the lawn with its trees and bushes by a screaming neighbor, every once in a while.