Gang problem

Halle, a very livable German provincial town, has developed a gang problem. I'm not talking Bloods v. Crips with drive-by shootings and Thuglife tattoos, although the Vietnamese, Russian and Ukrainian mafia are every bit as nasty and prevalent in the larger cities. No, I'm talking about bullyism. Kids can be horrible in a pinch, and German kids are no different.

What's specifically gotten my dander up regards the family in the building next to ours.

Admittedly, they're something of a social case. They have 8 children, each obese, and half of them require coke-bottle glasses. The father yells a lot but doesn't seem to work (not that there's anything wrong with that) and the mother doesn't speak much, although she's always got a smile and wave for Jarmila and me.

The kids seem relatively nice, if a bit dim. The youngest girl, about 10, has taken to calling me "Kumpel," (buddy) when she sights me from their balcony. One of the teenage boys, say 15, has duck-feet and watching him run is a bit painful, but his legs are stout and he forces his help on me whenever he sees me carrying groceries. The others are all quietly odd, and will give you either a crooked grin or a stare when you pass.

In short, the neighbors are a bit odd, but they probably think that about us, so...

Anyhow, two weeks ago I was scribbling away one afternoon when I heard yelling from the street. I went to the rotunda thinking, what are those kids up to now?

Looking down, I saw no less than 30 teenagers milling around across the street from our neighbors' balcony. There were obvious gang dynamics to the group: the curious but far removed bystanders, the thrilled girls edging closer to the action, the reluctant followers who seemed uncomfortable with all the goings-on, and then the most vocal and brash of the boys who were yelling and throwing snowballs and water balloons at the neighbors' windows.

I watched for a moment in anger and wondered if I should call the police, decided yes, went for the phone, and returned to the window.

(Background: there's a corner tower room in our apartment, so we can see 180 degrees from the five windows there, including a busy intersection and a park.)

But when I returned to the rotunda, I saw most of the kids running away because of the police van that had parked in front of the neighbors. Wow, I mused. All I had to do was think of the cops and they showed up. Wonder what kinda German technology they're employing?

I kept watching as the core of the group went around the corner and into the park. There were still about 20 of them milling around and no doubt plotting something ornery.

Their leader was easy to pick out and the remarkable thing about him was absolutely nothing. He wasn't big, good-looking or fashionable, and he didn't seem outstanding in any way, but the other kids sure listened to what he had to say.

I watched them in the park for spells, then watched the police interviewing our neighbors around the corner for spells, and counted myself lucky to have such a cool watchtower. The police hung out in the park until the stragglers broke up, and the day ended without incident.

But since that first time, the gang returned nearly every day after school to harass our slightly strange neighbors – sometimes they'd just hang out and yell, sometimes they'd throw things, but they always harassed somehow and the police became a constant neighborhood fixture in the late afternoons.

But there were no coppers around last week when I was on the phone with Jarmila, pacing around the rotunda just cuz I like to. And then I spotted them – the feistiest group of the kids were coming up the street with water balloons. I watched as they threw the balloons and scattered, and decided I couldn't take it anymore.

I flung open one of the windows and started yelling. "Hey! Hey you! Hey!" (I hung up on Jarmila in the process.)

Now, when I was young and happened to be in flight after having done something wrong, the voice of a screaming adult would have only made me run faster. But these kids actually stopped and looked around, trying to find the source of the continued yelling.

Finally, up to the tower they looked. I hollered again.

They flashed me the peace sign.

"I saw you all," I yelled, and held the phone up to my ear. "Hello, Poliezi!" I screamed.

Then I pulled my head back in so they won't be able to recognize my face. You can't be too sure.

I didn't call the police, of course. My German just ain't up to it. And anyway, since that day the gatherings have kinda petered out. I don't know if my yelling in pidgin German had anything to do with it, but I'm just happy that my neighbor family can go about their monkey business in peace once more.