To See or Not to See. Inez De Florio-Hansen

While the others drew the objects in their notebooks and wrote the corresponding word next to them, I was allowed to touch, move back and forth and sometimes even smell the objects in peace!

      As the electricity often failed, we did not have to wait for the bell to ring at the end of the lesson. Mrs. Melzer was free in the timing. Furthermore, she had a fairly precise idea of our learning possibilities. The lessons were tailored to our individual needs, and when we had done our daily workload, we were allowed to go home. As I was dependent on Renate, I tried as best I could to help her with the tasks that were difficult for her.

      “Well, David, my primary school teacher was very responsive to each of us. The good ones got more challenging tasks, while she dealt with the weaker ones.”

      “You were very lucky. By the way, in the first years after the war, not everything was as regulated as it is today. It was no different with me. Our Mr. Lehmann, already high in his seventies, was empathy in person. But today …”

      “Do you know what you want to become?”

      “Yes, for over a year now. I’m going to study psychology; later on, I’ll open a practice. I’ve already chosen the suitable university.”

      “Which one?”

      “I want to study in Mainz; I have even enrolled.”

      “Already? You still have time until you graduate.”

      “Yes, but as most universities they have long waits in psychology.”

      Finally, it was the turn of Jailhouse Rock. First David controlled my movements, then we rocked independently. I was very delighted. But soon I lost, as so often, the sense for the right direction. Without intent I landed on David’s body like in a hug. And what did David do? He grabbed me gently but decisively by my upper arms and pushed me away. I muttered something about apologizing.

      “No problem. That can happen.”

      Before I could reply anything, we heard someone unlock the apartment door. David’s father came into the room.

      “Hello, Cecilia, how nice of you to come upstairs.”

      “Yes, David taught me the hip swing of Elvis. I can do it pretty well now.”

      “Fine, that’s really vital these days!” He laughed. “Well, don’t let me interrupt you. I have to finish an urgent report for tomorrow.”

      We made one or two more attempts with Teddy Bear, but somehow the air was out. Finally, I said goodbye and David brought me downstairs to the front door.

      The experience worried me. In the following days I thought about it a lot. But it wasn’t like a missed opportunity. No, it was something quite different. The insignificant event brought me to the question that I often asked myself: What did I look like? What effect did my appearance have on others? Was I attractive? I asked everyone again and again—my family, our acquaintances, my friends. They described me as tall, slim, blond, with green eyes. But that did not answer my basic question: How did I appear to the opposite sex? Moreover, I was aware that probably nobody would have confronted me with the truth. Who would tell an almost blind girl that she was not particularly attractive? Was a visually impaired person not punished enough?

      I kept thinking about this. What would a girl look like, that David could fall in love with? I could hardly imagine. The longer I thought about it, the more I realized that I had never heard of a girl in connection with David.

      At my next opportunity I interviewed Alina. I thought my question was very clever:

      “Tell me, do you know David’s girlfriend?”

      “What do you mean?” Alina returned baffled.

      “Well, if he has a girlfriend, then you surely know her.”

      “David never had a girlfriend.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Can’t you guess?” came another counter-question from Alina.

      “Do you want to say he is not interested in girls?”

      “Exactly. Haven’t you noticed that David is almost exclusively with boys?”

      Even thinking about it carefully, I had never noticed that. When we met in the schoolyard, it was always David who came up to me to have a chat. How could I have noticed that he had previously only been with male schoolmates? I explained it to Alina who immediately apologized:

      “How stupid of me! Please excuse me. But while we are on the subject: May I ask you something?”

      “Oh, sure.” I was curious.

      “How do you find out that you like someone? I mean, a man.”

      “There are many reasons. First of all, I always listen carefully to what he says and how he says it.”

      “OK, then you’ll know if he’s a smart guy or a blather. So what?”

      “The most important thing is the voice. Does it have a sound that somehow attracts me, that sets off a vibration in me. Breathing is also important. Does it go together with what he says?”

      Alina was really the optimal conversation partner for me. This was confirmed by her next question:

      “Do you mean to say that you soon notice if someone is lying or telling the truth? If someone is honest?”

      “Sort of.”

      “I never thought about that. I suppose there are other qualities one can’t really do anything about, but which are important to you.”

      “Yes, the body odor is also important, or more precisely the body heat that one radiates. I also find soft hair on the arms very erotic.”

      “Fantastic!” Alina was pleased.

      “But you must not forget the disadvantages: I never know how old someone is or what he looks like.”

      “Don’t let it bother you. You’ll come to know as time goes by. You only have to ask someone. Me, for example!”

      “Thank you. I’ll take you at your word.”

      “I’ll be pleased. Maybe I’ll like him too.” She laughed.

3 Blind is the one who refuses to see

      Man’s basic vice, the source of all his evils, is the act of unfocusing his mind, the suspension of his consciousness, which is not blindness, but the refusal to see, not ignorance, but the refusal to know.

      Ayn Rand

      Perhaps only in a world of the blind will things be what they truly are.

      José Saramago

      After our return from Italy, the next medical consultation was only a matter of time. But: Did I really want to undergo eye surgery? That was what I asked myself again and again. As I said, I had reconciled myself to my severe visual impairment decades ago. But that did not mean that I was not missing some things. In this respect, I was different from Saliya Kahawatte and Isaac Lidsky, who considered their lives fulfilled even without eyesight. The more I thought about it, the more I noticed certain shortcomings.

      Two matters in particular kept coming to my mind. On the one hand, I would have liked to be independent of other people. Although those who helped me did not show at all the possible burden, I would have liked to plan my time independently from other people. I often had to orientate myself according to the time possibilities of my helpers. On the other hand, I sometimes felt that communication with friends and acquaintances was insufficient. In one-on-one communication most of them took my possibilities into account; they tried to formulate their thoughts clearly and unambiguously. In conversations with friends or acquaintances, however, I often had difficulty following the conversation: I had to assign voices, make sense of pauses in speech and, above all, interpret the individual statements without being able to orient myself by facial expressions and gestures. I was convinced that