sommerszene blog

Out of the Woodwork

During the concert by Nizami Bandhu, in short breaks between the songs, a man in the audience called out to the performers. He spoke their language. He understood their lyrics. They exchanged in what felt like playful banter. I couldn’t understand the conversation, but I was smiling.

This offering by the group from New Delhi connected with a man in Salzburg – maybe living here, maybe traveling through – familiar with India, maybe born there, maybe lived there.

As a foreigner in Salzburg and someone who must visit the visa office periodically, I experience this town as not so embracing of
difference. While I am here to work in the arts, many others come for jobs in construction and service; none of these fields, the arts, construction, or service sectors – requires much use of German, but the visa application is like an exam in the language. The questions are long, the paperwork is arduous. Then, when you go to the office, the man or woman behind the glass will not speak English or any other language. You are in Salzburg, it’s German only.

Each time I am in the visa office in Salzburg I feel like I am in
purgatory – the waiting room is small and usually full. I am there
waiting for an answer about which group I am in: the capital „P“
people of Salzburg who are recognized and official, or the lower case „p“ people who work behind the scenes, without recognition, without belonging.

During the Nizami Bandhu concert, I felt like the People and the
people were sitting side by side.