By Peter Fraenkel
During this memoir, Fraenkel writes as a member of an enclosed minority: German Jew inside of a predominantly Lithuanian Jewish neighborhood which used to be a part of a white settler group, itself a minority in a predominantly black African territory. a tender settler reprimanded him for stepping out of ways of an African relatives on a slim bush course: “Walk directly on. they need to recognize who's the grasp within the land.” Fraenkel stumbled on himself whistling the Nazis’ anthem “Clear the streets for the brown battalions. The hurricane soldiers are marching.” He was once coming to benefit the significance of now not conforming.
“A brilliant account of a early life in a middleclass, non-observant Jewish relatives in Nazi Germany, compelled to to migrate to Zambia (then Northern Rhodesia) in 1939.” — Trevor Gundry, Jewish Chronicle
“Peter Fraenkel... and his family members emigrated in 1939 from Breslau to Northern Rhodesia, the place he cast a winning career... within the relevant African Broadcasting provider. Fraenkel was once therefore given the potential for utilizing his undoubted abilities as a broadcaster to assist within the schooling of black humans, utilizing new tools of mass education... his sojourn in Northern Rhodesia got here to an lead to 1957, many years after the rustic was once refashioned via the British govt because the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland — a tremendous mistake, Fraenkel thinks, and one who wasn’t undone until eventually a lot later whilst the self sufficient nation of Zambia used to be created. His love affair with Africa got here to an finish, and he felt impelled to depart, as a result of his ‘dislike of racist politics during this bastion of white privilege’... Peter Fraenkel’s account of the twenty years in Northern Rhodesia is absorbing... there are riveting chapters on his actions as a a bit subversive broadcaster, operating including like-minded whites and Blacks... The ebook is written in a really energetic demeanour and there are numerous anecdotes, a lot of them in direct speech... i like to recommend it strongly.” — Leslie Baruch Brent, organization of Jewish Refugees
“The booklet bursts with lifestyles. international locations like those important African territories are... way more interesting than international locations with a settled constitution. the following a brand new society is rising. This pleasure is misplaced in reputable stories and educational reports and considered one of Fraenkel’s achievements is that he conveys it in complete degree. i do know of no ebook which extra vividly describes the range and throb of a latest African township.” — Max Gluckman, The Observer
“He brings out the formation of the recent African metropolitan and rural societies... i do know of no publication which describes this surging diversified energy so well.” — Africa
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During this memoir, Fraenkel writes as a member of an enclosed minority: German Jew inside of a predominantly Lithuanian Jewish group which was once a part of a white settler neighborhood, itself a minority in a predominantly black African territory. a tender settler reprimanded him for stepping out of how of an African kin on a slender bush course: “Walk instantly on.
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Extra resources for No Fixed Abode: A Jewish Odyssey to Africa
This would be the prelude to one of two possible sequences: sometimes one would hear her playing the piano with great force and – though I could not judge – virtuosity. My father, who did not find much to admire in his mother, conceded that she played better than any other non-professional he knew. However, at other times that bang of the door would be followed by different sounds, angry conversation. But there was no one else there. She would stomp around the room, arguing. My father said he once braced himself and listened.
I assume she was referring to the great fertility of Silesia. In the following century Napoleon’s armies overran this part of Europe and he ordered Breslau’s town walls razed. However, stretches of the moat survived, the home of dignified white swans. In the last days of the Nazi regime, when Breslau was encircled and shelled by the Red Army, the besieged population ate the descendants of these swans. But all that was still in the unknowable future when Herr Lerche, our teacher, distributed bits of bread for us to throw to the swans.
He went to a poultry merchant, had the goose weighed and valued and sent back the value assessed, with polite thanks. That’s Prussia, or was. Some 60 years later Teddy Neumann, the artist of Cosel origin (of whom more later) told me: I never knew anyone more Prussian than your father. Now my own father was a minor customs official, but he was determined to have his three sons get on in the world. He borrowed money and put the three of us through higher education. When we graduated, the three of us took over the repayment of father’s debts.
No Fixed Abode: A Jewish Odyssey to Africa by Peter Fraenkel