A Zundel Letter out of the German Gulag

[zgrams at zgrams.zundelsite.org]

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Many of my readers have complained that I am largely invisible these 
days.  There is nothing sinister behind my absence - on the contrary. 
I have so immersed myself in my newest adventure, the Zundel 
Documentary now  nearing conclusion, that I have ruthlessly stripped 
from myself all other obligations.  I've been glued to my Final Cut 
Pro! 

That, and a few other Zundel initiatives still in the germinating 
stages, have been the reason I did not spend as much time on the 
Internet as I usually do.  This will not change until the middle of 
November, at the earliest.

I also want to put my friends' anxieties at rest.  The arrest warrant 
for me because of postings on the Zundelsite is dated.  It stems from 
1996 and the cyber war around the Zundelsite.  It could be that it 
has been recently renewed, but as long as I don't travel to Europe, I 
consider myself fairly safe. 

This morning I received a letter from Ernst I feel privileged to 
share with you.  When Ernst feels hassled or frazzled, or when 
something unexpected disturbs his equilibrium, his letters don't lend 
themselves to publication, but when he is in a reflective mood, I 
love to be part of his world, even with an ocean between us. 

In this letter Ernst makes mention of a strange and deeply soothing 
dream he had - of all times and places, in the plane to Canada right 
after his political kidnapping.  He told me that he saw a "heile 
Welt" - a "healed world" and a serene, enchanted life of beauty and 
fulfillment.  He makes reference to that dream in this letter. 

[START]

My dear Ingrid -

It's a nice day outside in Mannheim and inside - and your husband is 
sniffling away for over a week with the worst case of hay fever since 
the 1970s before I discovered that miracle compound MSM.  It is 
during times like these that one feels the helplessness more keenly 
than on any other time because one knows that there is help and 
relief available at the reach of a hand into the vitamin cabinet - 
yet one may fantasize all one wants, even dream about it, one still 
knows in one's feverish delirium that no help will be possible under 
the circumstances of this imprisonment.  You should have received 
some photos in the Mannheimer Morgen of how interesting this old 
prison looks.

I am not complaining, Ingrid.  This is just for the historical record 
of how things are felt in the new Gulag, while I try to keep a 
promise I made to myself from the first day of my arrest - which is 
to keep a mental bridge going to you, to not let these people 
separate or break us with their cynical, underhanded ways. 

I will try to give you a few snippets of things from here.  I met an 
older German prisoner - I am the oldest most of the time;  he is 
still five years younger than I am.  When I saw him in the prison 
Alcatraz-like Stockwerk, I thought he looked like seventy.  It shook 
me up because he looked exactly like my long-dead friend, Fred N. 
Amazing, the likeness!  Finally I got the chance to talk to him in 
the prison yard and was not surprised to find a highly articulate 
German who speaks fluent English, has been all over the world - and 
has the horizon to see the bigger picture that is lacking in so many 
other, mostly younger Germans.  He, like many Germans, is unhealthy. 
My most shocking discovery, Ingrid - it absolutely horrifies me, 
because obviously they eat the same diets Americans eat, except for 
the still more nutritious all-grain German bread one can buy at the 
prison store.  But, Ingrid, unbelievable to me - all the rest is just 
about the same Fabriknahrung [factory food] as we get at Walmart's or 
Kroger's. 

One can also buy deutsche Markenbutter and some of the fresh 
vegetables like tomatoes, which seem to be sun-grown, dark and firm. 
They even smell like tomatoes.  That prison store arrangement has 
been the absolute saving grace for me.  I can now eat something green 
at every meal. 

For instance:

My breakfast at 6 a.m. is a nice cup of tea - different kinds, I have 
peppermint, Hagebutten, fruit, even Ceylon black tea, all supplied by 
the prison. I take one-fourth or one-half of a fresh lemon, which 
mostly lasts the 12-14 days between shopping - only once in a while 
does one go mildewy.  I squeeze the lemon into my cup - Porcelain! 
Nice, eh? - add the hot, freshly brewed tea from my stainless steel 
pot, around which I have wrapped some old parts of a pillow case I 
found in my cell.  Then I give myself a bit of a squeeze of honey 
into that mixture.  It is heavenly - and I think of you as I begin to 
make notes and write some letters.  Then I shave, brush my teeth, put 
on my Tennessee Mountain boots bought at Walmart on sale for $14.75 
before my arrest - my daily footwear in prison and on the way to 
court for the last 2 1/2years.  Now that was one good quality boot! 
I reconnect with you, see you walk to my clothes closet, look at all 
the other lovely boots, especially the one that is all leather which 
I bought for $29.95 on a Supersale at Sam's in Knoxville.  Boy, do I 
wish sometimes I had those boots here! 

Then, after the boots are laced up, I wash some apples, a bunch of 
carrots, green onions or peppers, and munch these Bugs Bunny-style on 
my way to the prison yard.  By the time lunch is served at 11-11:30 
a.m., I will have had only vegetables and fruits.  No coffee!  I am 
weaning myself off that.  Lorraine [a friend, Dr. Lorraine Day] would 
be proud of me!

I usually only eat half of the portion at lunch, depending on what we 
get - salt potatoes, noodles, rarely rice - and keep the rest in a 
plastic container because we only get one main warm meal a day.  This 
suits me fine, because after I take a little nap about 1-2 p.m., I 
get back up, research files, make notes, write to the lawyers or 
letters to friends.  I take a break about 4:30 and make myself my 
evening salad - just like at home.

A murderer nearby, who has no one in the world, it seems, and who has 
no funds for even an immersion heater - a German, 20 years younger 
than I - needs some hot water or a cup of coffee, and when we are let 
out for about 5 minutes at about 5:30-6:00 p.m., I usually have hot 
water ready for him.  By then, the guards come by with some bread, 
about five slices, some cheese, two slices of sausage - and 
sometimes, I could not believe it, they have Bratheringe like my 
mother used to buy out of a big barrel in the village.  The Turkish 
prisoners don't seem to like fish, which I find odd.  They then trade 
their fish for a boiled egg, some jam, etc.

I dash out of my cell during the five-minute break and empty my trash 
can because vegetarian garbage, which is still alive, smells worse 
than junk food garbage.  Then I withdraw to my burrow like some 
prairie dog.  The other prisoners go and make what is called 
"Umschluß" where one is allowed to take one's chair to the cell of a 
compatible prisoner and play chess or talk.  99% of them smoke their 
guts out.  I visit no one because I have absolutely nothing in common 
with those people - ZERO!  Talk about a cultural desert or 
downbreeding.  This is the place to see the result of 
"Americanization."  It is devastating to observe it, to watch and 
listen to these people!

Some of the guards, when they take me to the visiting barracks, ask 
me very respectfully:  "Herr Zündel, wie können Sie das aushalten?" 
["Mr. Zündel, how can you bear it?"]  I tell them about American and 
Canadian prisons and the life and low-lifes there, the brutality, the 
lousy food, and then I tell them that I am relieved to see how humane 
they, the German guards, have remained.  Ingrid, it's in moments like 
those that one gets a fleeting, almost ephemeral whisp, a mere 
glimpse, of what is meant by Volksgemeinschaft [belonging one's folk] 
- a sense of togetherness, of shared, unarticulated Gemeinsamkeiten 
	[things we have in common] - things that we Germans feel 
amongst ourselves when we celebrate German Christmas - like you 
described so movingly with your grandmother and that burning twig. 
Every once in a while a soul-string is tugged and resonates ever so 
briefly, and a guard wants to know:  "What is it that you know that 
is so feared by the system?"  Ingrid, those are very precious moments 
because they show to me that the embers are still glimmering away, 
and then I let loose with Pure Zundelism and watch my artillery 
barrage land right on target in the depths of their souls - and I 
KNOW, Ingrid, by their reaction that I have not lost the magic touch. 
It's an uplifting feeling, for I know that the time will come when 
that "KNOWING" will be treated like a national resource.  I know it 
as certain as I am writing these lines and my name is Ernst Zündel in 
this INCARNATION!

I also know that something is being worked out in the scheme of 
things.  Something is germinating as though a new Thing is gestating 
- as in a pregnancy.  One dares not artificially induce premature 
labor and thereby cause an abortion or a damaged, imperfect new 
birth! 

Sweetheart, I don't know yet what it is!  But I know that it is, and 
if we, you and I, are careful and listen into ourselves very 
attentively, listen to our inner selves, it will manifest itself to 
us exactly what it is that wants to be born.  We must not allow 
earthly pain, loneliness, misunderstandings, past hurts and 
jealousies thwart this process.  Maybe to most people this sounds 
like pretty esoteric stuff, like a pipe dream of a man in prison.  Of 
course I have dreams.  I have visions of the country meadows with the 
apple trees in blossom and the golden-haired children frolicking 
amongst the wildflowers while chasing after butterflies.  I recall 
that pungent smell of flowing sap in those magnificent Southern pines 
on the Dream House Mountain Bench.  But, Ingrid, this THING, this 
instinctively felt ambience is something different, almost as if out 
of a different dimension in space and time, something cosmic!

Thanks to the isolation and the now much better food, the glorious 
music, the quiet, I am becoming the Ernst Zundel I was obviously 
meant to be.  In all humility I say to you, my wife, lover, and 
friend - it is awesome! 

To hell with the rest of the world!  This is the new world coming!

[END]
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