Derek Scally on the enthusiasm among immigrants in Germany for the national side
Gunshots rang out yesterday over Berlin's Turkish neighbourhood of Kreuzberg yesterday. Across town, Germany had scored their opening goal against Equador in the Olympic Stadium.
Kreuzberg is notorious in Germany, thanks to television footage of burning cars at the annual May Day riots and depressing newspaper articles about failed immigrant integration. But yesterday, Germany's footballers united Kreuzbergers in front of their television sets for 90 minutes. Turks, Turkish-Germans and Germans hugged each other in glee as one, two, three goals hit home. With each goal, gunshots and fireworks zipped through the air as German flags flapped from dozens of buildings.
Like Ireland, Turkey failed to qualify for the World Cup, making it easy for Germany's 2.5 million Turks and Germans of Turkish origin to decide what team to support.
"Germany, of course Germany, they're playing magnificently," said Faruk el-Kadri outside a kebab shop while a German flag fluttered over the Turkish and Arabic signs behind him. "We're just waiting for Germany to become world champions. There's going to be some party here then."
The enthusiasm makes a change from the mutual suspicion and apathy that marks the usual tone of the relationship between Germany and its immigrants.
Government-sponsored immigration began four decades ago, but many who came are still referred to as "guest workers". Even after applying for German citizenship, some complain they are called "Turks with German passports".
Neighbourhoods like Kreuzberg that are up to 40 per cent Turkish are seen as "parallel societies" with little interaction between immigrants and their native German neighbours.
That was all forgotten yesterday and the euphoria carried across Kreuzberg and further south on the Sonnenallee running through the neighbourhood of Neukölln, home to Lebanese and Palestinian families.
"It's the most natural thing in the world to support Germany, particularly because I have German citizenship," says Hassan Sahle, from a Lebanese family, proudly producing his ID card. "I think the enthusiasm shows that people here want to belong."
His friend Uzgan puffs thoughtfully on a water pipe, letting out breaths of apple tobacco smoke as he watches the screen. He grew up in Germany but now teaches sports in a school in Turkey and plays in a local football team. "Berlin is so multi-cultural that everyone's for everyone," he says. "But football is just football. When this is over I wouldn't expect any big changes in how people look at each other."
Leaders of Germany's Turkish community hope the opposite is the case and that the government can tap into the Germany enthusiasm among immigrants.
"The second and third generation have been born here and have little relationship to Turkey," said Faruk Sen, director of the Turkish Studies at the University of Duisburg-Essen. He points out that many German teams like Borussia Dortmund and Schalke 04 already have a huge Turkish following here. "With a few clever steps, the federal and local governments could win over the young Turks to their new homeland."
