Summer 1969 – I was 17 years old and had successfully completed secondary school and a year of vocational school for women. I still had over six months to go before I could begin my planned training as a physiotherapist, so my parents enabled me to complete a six-month intensive language course in England. Even the journey there was an adventure for me: the train ride to Hook of Holland, the night ferry to Harwich, then another train ride via London with its many train stations to the seaside resort of Westgate-on-Sea in Kent. There, Questeds School was located, with its attached boarding school. It was at this institution that I had my first encounter with the big, wide world: My classmates came from many European countries, as well as from Asia and Africa. Among them was 20-year-old Denise from the Ivory Coast, with whom I struck up a conversation. One day, she showed me a small statue of the Virgin Mary carved from ebony, which touched me deeply. I'm Protestant and have no connection to Marian worship. It's probably the fact that I held ebony for the first time, which I only knew from fairy tales, in my hand, and above all that the Virgin Mary is black – like its owner. All depictions of the Virgin Mary I had seen up to that point depicted a white woman. Denise sensed my fascination and immediately offered to give me the figure. I couldn't accept, but eventually we agreed to buy it. Almost 50 years have passed since then. I've seen a lot more of the world, held various jobs, and moved a few times. What has remained is my love for England, for its polite and helpful people, and for the cultural diversity I encountered there. I don't know what became of Denise and my other schoolmates from back then. In the throes of everyday life, the intention to stay in touch by letter eventually slipped away. But through my little black Virgin Mary, who has been visible and tangible in my living room ever since, I feel connected to them. // ENG Summer 1969 – I was 17 years old and had successfully completed secondary school and a year at a women's vocational school. I still had over six months to go before I could begin my planned training as a physiotherapist, so my parents enabled me to complete a six-month intensive language course in England. Even the journey there was an adventure for me: the train ride to Hook of Holland, the night ferry to Harwich, then another train ride via London with its many train stations to the seaside resort of Westgate-on-Sea in Kent. There, Questeds School was located, complete with an attached boarding school. It was at this institution that I had my first encounter with the big, wide world: My classmates came from many European countries, as well as from Asia and Africa. Among them was 20-year-old Denise from the Ivory Coast, with whom I struck up a conversation. One day, she showed me a small statue of the Virgin Mary carved from ebony, which touched me deeply. I'm Protestant and have no connection to Marian worship. It's probably the fact that I held ebony for the first time, which I only knew from fairy tales, in my hand, and above all that the Virgin Mary is black – like its owner. All depictions of the Virgin Mary I had seen up to that point depicted a white woman. Denise sensed my fascination and immediately offered to give me the figure. I couldn't accept, but eventually we agreed to buy it. Almost 50 years have passed since then. I've seen a lot more of the world, held various jobs, and moved a few times. What has remained is my love for England, for its polite and helpful people, and for the cultural diversity I encountered there. I don't know what became of Denise and my other schoolmates from back then. In the throes of everyday life, the intention to stay in touch by letter eventually slipped away. But through my little black Virgin Mary, who has been visible and tangible in my living room ever since, I feel connected to them.
