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22 years ago, I still lived in Germany back then, it was the 31st of December. There was a pub on the upper road, and opposite of the pub was a family house. Until that night I had not known who lived there.
My oldest was 5 at the time (thought he was 3, but the younger was 3 and in bed). I had promised him he could watch the fireworks, judging that by the pub the most would be launched, and so this is what I did: Carried him in my arms up to the road - totally unprepared for what we were to find.
The pub guests had emptied into the street, but instead of a jolly gathering, what we faced was a drunken crowd, out of control, throwing bottles at the house opposite, firing fireworks at the windows. There was chanting about how to slaughter the guys and how to'burn the wh*res alive'.
I looked up and saw the faces of children in one of the upstairs windows. To this day I pray they had not learned enough German to have understood...
No police car to be seen, and beside me there seemed no one else willing to rise in defence of the people in that house (not saying this as in 'I am so great' just stating a fact of that night).
From the shouting I had gathered they were refugees, later I found out from Lebanon. I was terrified, but I could only think of those children, and there was no telling what that crowd would do next, so I walked in front of them and told them how utterly ashamed they should be to treat others in such a way. It quietened them for a moment, but I knew it was not going to last, already there were hisses again, and so I straightened up, my son firmly pressed against me, and turned my back on them. I knew there was a risk they'd throw a bottle at my head, or maybe launch a firework, it was the most scary moment in all my life, but I walked over to the house and then to its side. 3 men were standing there, guarding the door, obviously hugely out numbered, they would not have stood a chance to protect themselves and the women and children, and I did not know how they would greet me with this extreme tension in the air, but I said to them that I was so very sorry, and that I wished to tell them not everyone was like that crowd.
They humbled me by taking my hand and then they took me inside, and the women came to hug me and kiss my little son, and I spent the next hour with them, while the chanting had started again, and we heard the bottles break against the walls and the fireworks. It was a small miracle that no window ended smashed, but eventually the shouting subsided - unbeknown to me at the time due to my back then partner, who had come to find me, but instead had found that crowd. He was tall and with great presence, and had himself begun to speak to the people, eventually gotten some on his side, who then in turn had begun to calm the others down. Without that, I do not know what would have happened (he told me later one had come back almost like from a trance, staring at him, then saying 'omg, what am I doing here, this isn't me at all')
That night taught me how quick things can turn bad. That crowd had been made up of decent people, friendly, but mixed with the alcohol and probably some among them who had started to heat things up, fears and misinformation had taken over, and those neighbours at that night lost what we call their humanity.
It did not happen again, at least not that I know during the time I lived there, and one of the sons of that family became a friend of my boys - he even came to spend Christmas with us, allowed by his Muslim parents, imagine.. and his eyes shone before the tree and there were presents for him too.. but if that crowd had lost it's last sanity that night, he may would have never come to experience happy moments again.