What Goes Around, Comes Around
A first pointer on how to live
During Robert's first year at primary school, at the age of about six, there was a boy in his class called Johan van de Heuvel. Johan lived around the corner, and Johan's family knew Robert's family. Most significant to this story, Johan's family knew Robert's mom, and they knew that the Beneluxes spoke both German and English at home. And one day Robert came home and asked his dad, "What's a Nazi?"
His dad tried to enquire, without letting on where this conversation was undoubtedly going to end up, "Why do you ask?"
"Johan said I'm a Nazi."
"The Nazis were a group of people in Germany who did some very bad things before I was even as old as you. You are not a Nazi. None of us are Nazis. And it's very wrong of Johan to say that."
Robert's dad knew that Johan wouldn't know the word if he hadn't been told it. After a brief chat with his Robert's mom, that went something along the lines of, "He said what?! We're going over there right now!" his parents decided it would be best to pay the van de Heuvels a call, and clarify the situation for them, and suggest their son understands the implications of what he says before he opens his mouth.
I don't really know what happened next because Robert couldn't tell me. He was told to stay at home. But he understood from what his parents told him years later that they had sat in the lounge, the Beneluxes explained why they had come, and said that not all Germans had been Nazis. The van de Heuvels told them about the atrocities commited in Holland during the war, and the repercussions afterwards of the actions of the retreating Germans; the famine and death. The Beneluxes left feeling more resentful towards the van de Heuvels, and the van de Heuvels, it seemed, were no less resentful towards Germans in general, and the fact that the Beneluxes had come to challenge them had only reinforced their prejudices.
I don't think I mentioned that Johan was very tall. By far the tallest boy in his class, probably the class ahead, and maybe even the class ahead of that. A veritable beanstalk of a boy. This did not sway Robert from the decision to finish what his parents had obviously failed to resolve.
But when six year olds fight, it's not like TV. Generally very few punches are thrown. It's more like the punches are pushed. Robert threw a punch as hard as he could, and it sounded unsatisfying when it thudded dully into Johan's cheek. Johan stumbled and fell. Robert jumped onto him, and pushed a punch at him, landing it on his eye. Johan pushed him away and then tried to roll onto him unsuccessfully. They tussled like this for a little while until a prefect pulled them apart and took them to the headmaster.
They had both been crying, and trying to hide it, by the time the headmaster called them in to see him. He asked Robert to close the door, and Robert did so. Johan blurted out "He hit me first."
The headmaster turned his glare onto Robert. "Explain yourself, my boy."
"He called me a Nazi."
"What's your name?"
"Robert."
"And yours?"
"Johan."
"Right. Well, Johan," he said, "don't go about calling people Nazis. There are no Nazis at this school. I want you to shake hands and apologise, both of you."
And that was the end of that.
Robert learned that the headmaster does not punish you for hitting someone if they call you a Nazi, so calling someone a Nazi must be as bad as hitting them, or worse.
And Johan learned the same.
And for both of them the experience further reinforced something that they had known from before they could form memories; that what goes around, comes around.
