May Day

The first sight of May blossoms against a blue sky was like nature’s shout of joy as the city shrugged off winter. Now they flutter down and blanket the streets as the demonstrations begin.
It’s 1st May in Kreuzberg, Berlin. Labour Day – around here that means supporters of anti-fascism, Marxism-Leninism, and various other hybrid words ending in ‘ism’ unfurl their banners and stir up revolutionary feelings. In recent years, fists clenching Molotov cocktails have been exchanged for fists clenching sparklers. A street party atmosphere prevails, albeit a street party with an unusually visible police contingent in riot gear.
A pulse of vitality throbs. No cars, trains or buses on this Thursday afternoon, only thousands of people dancing in the streets. Graffiti pops off drab grey facades and cans of paint spill over rooftops and run in rainbow rivers over the side of buildings.
Voices are raised in shouts and laughter, drums are beaten and bells are rung, bottles clink and a duck quacks. A duck quacks? Yes. A woman crouched over a box of peeping ducklings passes through this whirlwind of noise and motion like it’s the Red Sea, pausing every so often to coax along the mother duck waddling in her wake. I feel I will always regret not stopping her to ask about it.
We traipse from street to street, stopping in parks and corners where music speakers have been set up. Two women spring off a low rooftop and are crowd-surfed to safety. A young man cycles by in a rattling contraption – one cart fixed to the front of his bicycle carries a black Labrador, while another cart at the back contains a boom box blaring hip hop. Both pet and owner look supremely pleased with themselves.
When daylight fades I see a young Turkish boy up on a balcony, brown eyes gleaming in his moon face, watching well over the scene below. It strikes me as funny that I’m the one with fresh, wide eyes, seeing this spectacle for the first time, while he takes it in his stride.
Sinister clouds have been gathering. There’s an almighty roll of thunder, rumbling in your bones, as if there was too much energy down here charging up the atmosphere. A torrential downpour can’t stop this, so we keep splashing in the sodden streets.