After school, I moved from the village to the city for a voluntary social year. One of my tasks was to distribute flyers and posters in the city. The city was relatively unfamiliar to me at first, so I even got a map to see which route I should take through the city. I packed a bag with a folder full of posters, lots of flyers, and a small roll of sticky tape. Then I set off and headed for the first shop door. Go in. Look for the person in charge. Interrupt them while they were working. Hoping they'll buy something. Hoping they'll then disappoint you. You're only there to distribute flyers. Advertising for something else. An annoyed "Yeah, yeah, put them back there," kneel down, and stick a poster in a window or on a door under the watchful eyes of amused customers. Then quickly thank them, walk through the door, and hope they'll quickly forget about me. That's how I imagined it. I was so nervous. But none of that happened. People were happy, no matter that I only had flyers. They were happy to be able to help. No matter what business I was in, whether it was a wine shop, a goldsmith's shop, a library, or a restaurant. Sometimes I just got a friendly "Yes, of course." But mostly people were interested. Who was I? I must be new! Surely someone else was there! I was asked how long I'd been here? Where I grew up? Where I lived now? Did I like it? Did I like the place? I knelt there by the window and tore sticky tape off a roll. I made sure the poster was hanging straight. But I wasn't stared at strangely; I was greeted and asked questions with interest. Sometimes I was asked to say hello to my colleagues. Sometimes by the evening I had a whole list of people to go through in my head to make sure I could greet everyone. Sometimes I was asked what there was to see next? That people love coming to us and are happy to receive the flyers. Some knew the colleagues personally and told me stories and anecdotes. So I quickly got to know the city and its people, and suddenly I was part of it all. I knew the owners of the bar next door, the bakery down the street, the hotel on the other side of the block, the names of the wine merchant, the employee at the copy shop, the goldsmith. The people not only welcomed the flyers, but me too. They were open to getting to know a new person, open to learning what was happening elsewhere in the city, interested in being together, in sticking together. Sometimes I forget that we are all one community in the city. Then I like to remember the flyers and the tape. It's nice to be preaching to the choir.
