No Birthday Cake

I had plans for today, carefully made well in advance. As I wrote in an earlier post, I was going to give out a special lunch for my work colleagues, to celebrate the end of my sixty-fifth year of life. Those plans had to be cancelled, and new plans made: the union has called us out on strike for a day and there is a certain obligation involved; I pay my dues, and it is for this reason that I pay those dues. It is pointless paying in if you’re not going to support, especially when it concerns something which is both integral in our working lives, and important for our working conditions. The union is not some anonymous entity deciding our futures for us, it is the workforce itself, you and me.

So, this morning I enjoyed an extra two hours in bed, and then made my way to Osterholz-Scharmbeck by train to join in the action. Not, no matter however you might wish to play it out, exactly what anyone would wish for their birthday, but as much a part of life as each birthday itself. I can afford the time because my union has fought, in the past, to ensure I have that right, and it is now my turn to fight for those same rights and privileges for future generations. Whether I benefit from this action or not makes little difference. I have gained from those who stood here in the past, and am passing it on; paying it on.

There were not, admittedly, as many of us as I had expected, but the strike action has been divided into three separate days this week, with different government sections appearing on Monday, today, and this coming Friday. Next week, when we travel to Hannover, there will be thousands there, and the streets will be filled with waving flags, banners, music, and the shrilling of whistles. People will see us, traffic and normal life will be disrupted, the employers will be forced to take notice, forced to come to the negotiating table. It is a sad indictment of our society that this is still necessary, that we still have to point out there are people working for the government in demanding jobs who have to apply for financial support, for welfare.

I am not one of them. Compared to many, with my pay and pension, as well as income from other sources, I am very well off. I live and enjoy life from a position of privilege, and have known that from a very early age. And that is why, as one of the speakers at today’s event pointed out, people like me need to be out on the streets too: not for ourselves, but for those who cannot afford to live a basic life in a reasonable level of comfort because their wages are below a sensible existence level. And what is one day without birthday cake in comparison, when I can afford cake every single day of the week, while others are clipping coupons and buying up expired provisions at reduced rates? Sometimes we need to see life as it really is, from the standpoint of someone less privileged rather than from our own safe cocoon.

Image © Urban Camera.