Ik gah nich

“Ik gah nich” means “I am not going.” Wiebke Aad Fock said it when the Eider had reached the yard, the firm track was hard to distinguish and no ordinary journey from Fockbek could be made. Trade had stopped. The eel barrels stood ready, with nowhere safe to go.

That morning there had been dry ground between the riverbank and the yard, but by noon water ran through the lower places, gathered around the buildings and crept beneath the doors. It lifted loose wood and carried stalks and twigs past the house. Each look towards the Eider showed a little less distance.

Wiebke called the people who worked in the yard together and gave them their tasks in short sentences, beginning with the full eel barrels, which had to be carried to the loft. They tied the empty vessels fast and set sacks, tools and stores on boards and benches, until everything their hands could lift stood clear of the wet.

The barrels were heavy. Two people held each one while a third secured it with a rope, and Wiebke stood at the narrowest place on the stairs to take some weight and prevent pushing. Whenever a foot slipped, the whole line stopped. No barrel saved from the water was worth a broken arm.

Neighbours came through the water, some to help and others to urge Wiebke to move to Rendsburg, where they said the eel trade would have a market, warehouses and more hands. Anyone who left now need not call it flight. The water itself appeared to recommend the more sensible place. Wiebke listened.

She knew the advice was kindly meant, and she knew that several burdens of the trade would indeed be lighter in Rendsburg, though the risk to everything in Fockbek was plain. Within a few hours the yard might be damaged, the barrels spoiled and years of work left in brown water.

Looking at the people who were still passing loads up the stairs, Wiebke pointed to the door beneath which the water came. Then she said, “Ik gah nich, ik bün de Aadfock.” (I am not going, I am the Aadfock.) Her voice was low. Everyone in the room heard her.

Wiebke knew how serious the danger was, and she left every other person free to see to a house or an animal and return later if return remained possible. She sent ropes and boards where they were needed. Her decision bound herself alone: the yard in Fockbek and its trade would be held while anything could still be held.

The water rose until those in the lower room stood on wet floorboards, and one person kept a bucket moving although nobody supposed that the Eider could be emptied that way. The work preserved a dry strip at the foot of the stairs. When a helper pushed a barrel too near the loft edge, Wiebke helped move it back and wedge it against rolling.

One barrel remained. It had been opened for the next delivery that morning and stood outside in a shed already reached by the flood, so Wiebke went with two helpers who offered to fetch it. Knowing the firm footholds, she led them with a pole as they carried the barrel between them until the current nearly took their legs, after which they moved slowly and kept close. They all came back.

Inside the house, Wiebke counted people before she counted losses, sent dry cloths upstairs and divided the bread. Those who could stay did so. Anyone obliged to go out again was given company. In this way the people in the house remained together to watch over one another as well as the yard.

Few slept. Through the night water struck wood, dripped from clothing and shifted things outside which had seemed firm in daylight, while Wiebke went between the loft and the lower room. More than once she stood at the door, though nothing could be seen there. She waited longer than the others had thought wise.

Towards morning the water ceased to rise, although nothing had yet been won, and only slowly did the marks on posts and walls show that the Eider was drawing back. Mud remained in the house, while boards and tools outside had moved from their places. The barrels stood safe in the loft, and the people who had carried them there were together.

Rendsburg was mentioned again later, and Wiebke agreed that trade would have been easier there, but she remained in Fockbek and had the yard put in order. The barrels came down and the work began again.

Her plain words endured as a promise to the place, the people and the work. It bound her alone and left others free, yet gave them a firm answer when the next barrel needed hands.