Milena Moser on how poverty continues to have an impact: Trufflegau

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“We need to talk.” Words no one likes to hear. Words that don’t bode well. And not in this case. My voice shook a little when I said this. Victor sat down, fearing the worst. My throat was tight, the shock still in my bones, the feeling of betrayal I felt when I opened the refrigerator in the studio where Victor keeps his medicine. And then I saw this: the box of champagne truffles I brought him a few months ago. months! It also said that you should enjoy it immediately!

I opened the box, it was still almost full. But truffles are hard and covered with a milky layer. With contempt for death, I threw them in the trash.

“Because of you, the champagne truffles went bad!” – I blurted out. He stared at me. He didn’t dare ask me to repeat these words. This is what happened, Moser, I thought. Now you’ve completely lost your mind. And then I had to laugh. Victor intervened with relief. Today “Trufflegau” is a funny joke, a story that we like to tell precisely because it is absurd.

As absurd as any argument. And like any argument, this one had nothing to do with a superficial trigger, but rather with differences in our environment. Conflicts arise when you confuse your own experience with reality and accept it as the absolute standard. Happens to the best among us. Victor and I have a big advantage here.

Unlike many intercultural couples, we are both strangers here. And we are often equally confused and stunned, surprised and annoyed. This is what unites us. And sometimes it makes us forget that we could not grow up and live differently. However, the deepest difference between our environments lies not in language or culture, but in the experience of extreme poverty. I have no idea about this. Living without insurance has always been a free choice of mine. And no matter how scarce things became sometimes, I always had food. A roof over your head too.

Not Victor. I’ll never understand what this means.

Poverty is not an intellectual concept, it is a physical experience. Hungry, freezing, not knowing where you will sleep. Accompanying this is excruciating fear and constant vigilance. It is embedded in every cell, even after decades of relative prosperity and security. No wonder Victor hoards chocolate until it no longer tastes good. The reason I forget about it from time to time is because he doesn’t talk about it much.

Real poverty is degrading, not something that can be shared. People who constantly complain about how little they have rarely have any real physical need, at least that’s what I’ve learned over the past few years. Victor prefers to talk about how good things are with us. “Isn’t it great to have a roof over your head?” Something I always took for granted. This is how we learn from each other. Gratitude, trust.

Of course, I also brought him truffles and champagne from this trip, the box is already half empty. Rain on the street. It’s dry here. It’s warm in the kitchen.

“Aren’t we doing well?”

Source: Blick