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Most of the village of Mayschoss was destroyed by the flood
Photo: Hubert Gude / DER SPIEGEL
In July I drove over a bumpy track through a forest to Mayschoss in the Eifel.
It was the only way down to a village that was mostly only ruins.
A few days earlier, the flood had robbed the roughly 900 residents of the federal highway, the railroad tracks, the electricity and even the drinking water.
Five people drowned on the night of July 14th to 15th.
Hardly a house on the Ahr was still intact.
The sight was depressing.
As I trudged through the mud-covered streets in rubber boots, I soon wondered about these Mayschossers. I hardly heard any lamentations. People whose houses were intact came with shovels. The winemakers brought tractors and power generators. Everyone tackled. "How is de Mam?" Asked a neighbor of a man whose elderly mother had to go to hospital after the disaster. "Nobody's waiting for outside help here," said a woman who had set up an emergency pharmacy in the church. "We Mayschossers are known for our solidarity."
In the evening the people from the village, from the volunteer fire brigade and the winegrowers sat together on the street with a beer.
This village community impressed me and also made me a little ashamed.
I have great family and close friends.
But as a passionate city dweller, I also like to immerse myself in the anonymity of the crowd.
With all the sympathy for the destruction that the floods caused them, I secretly envied the people in this place on the Ahr.
For a bond that no flood can take away.