Mazirbe: Posten der Grenzwache

Yes, that was slightly childish and boyish on my part, but it was my response to this stupid and humiliating system. I was a local resident. My ancestors had lived there for centuries, and now there were occupants who were demanding at every step that I show my passport. I was unbendingly spiteful and proud about this. I didn’t have my passport with me, and that was that. I never got tired of the game. In fact, the longer I lived, the more I enjoyed it.

Border guards used to raid our facilities all the time, and sometimes people were asked to present their permits to be in the area several times in one day.

I often encountered border guards, but I tried to avoid such situations, because staff at the reserve often had binoculars, maps and cameras, and that made the Border Guard very suspicious, indeed. If they caught someone, it usually took at least half an hour to finish the discussion. If we noticed a Border Guard vehicle in a timely way, we ran off into the forest, yelling “The greens are coming!”