The weekly market on Maybachufer next to the Landwehr Canal in Neukölln has existed since the end of the 19th century. It is open every Tuesday and Friday from 11 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. all year long. Although it is commonly referred to as the “Türkenmarkt” (Turkish Market), many nationalities and origins are represented here. Crossing it is traveling through a unique, lively world in the city. A world full of colors, aromas, tastes, crafts, textures, languages, sounds, voices, “Menschen” (people).

I have known it for almost five years, since I moved to Berlin and started working in a very special place named Café Zart, right there, on the corner of Hobrechtstrasse. I started working the same week it was being open to the public for the first time. I remember I was a bit more shy at the beginning and my German was too poor to properly have a basic conversation. However, not a long time passed since I started feeling at home in this neighborhood. Market tenders would come every market day very early, even before we were open, crossing the door with a loud and friendly “Guten Morgen ihr Lieben!” or “Grüß dich!”, other times a less friendly and more grumpy “Morgen” or “Kaffee!”. Wladimir, a German papa and good friend more so than a boss, would spiritedly salute them back, make some jokes and chit-chat. We would prepare black coffees for Isabell, Naji, Ali’s men, cappuccini for Usman, Basti and Malte, eight or eleven for Nabil, a cappuccino “in der Tasse ohne Unterteller” (in the cup without under plate) for Burkhard, a double one for Nico and usually ginger tea with Elderberry syrup for Selale and (the young) Peter.
At the beginning, Hannah and Lukas worked here. Afterwards, Jule and Ronja joined. And later Yun, Keumbi, Lena, Cosette, Emma, Millie, Merle, Marie, Joshua, Katja, Mai, Myrte, Jacob, Noumissa, Kira, Shiwa, Fionn, Katrin, Axel, Francisco, Aline, Franzi and Wanda. Some would stay, some would go after some weeks or years, some would visit from time to time. Peter, Jorke, Soon-Hi, Joschka, Hannah, Udo, Lisa, Maria, Melek and Ben, Olaf, Ursula, Stephan and Chris, and many more neighbors, “Stammkunden”, friends, would visit us. A few would even start working or making their own coffees and pouring their own beers and Aperols. A chaotic, seldomly dull place. Briefly expressed, every day in Zart is a new crazy episode of the most hilarious, magical and dramatic reality show.

After making the first round of coffees, having prepared the Banana Bread and the Nocciolino, putting every chair and table outside, we would eat our delicious breakfast together inside. Since the very beginning, (the old) Peter, our lovely neighbor, “Spaßvogel” (a joker) and famous inventor –between other fantastic stuff, he invented chocolate vinyls that could be played and eaten– was part of the Zart team. He would bring “Brezeln” and “Schrippe” (buns) for each of us and prepare boiled eggs in the kitchen. Sometimes he would also bring slices of ham he would have found on discount in Lidl. That moment is one of my favorites ones. Sitting together –always with a lit candle on the table– eating and talking, listening to Bach, “O Ka Wa I Hala” by Tony Conjugacion, Astrud Gilberto, Billie Holiday or Sinatra, making coffees in between, and greeting the market tenders and neighbors passing by, some going to work, others bringing their kids to school or having a morning walk with their dogs.

For me, being at this Market and in Zart feels like being home. A home I´ve never had nor felt before. It also feels similar to being in a very small village. I know people’s faces and names, they know mine. Some of us know a few of each other’s stories, happy and sad, and life experiences. I can not recall many quarrels, but surely there have been some. Usually with visitors, sometimes between us, and others, but rarely with market tenders and neighbors. We can not avoid being humans and having conflicts, after all. What I am sure of is the kindness, respect and familiarity one typically breathes here. We laugh, cry and drink together, listen and support each other. People bring us food, incense, clothes. We bring them a warm place, a shelter, our selves. We are a community of neighbors and workers. We all care. We love.

I think one of the most characteristic, enigmatic and beautiful aspects of Zart is that all sorts of people come and become part of the space while transforming it. I would dare to say, no written, spoken nor codified settled and resolute categorizations are really made nor really matter here. Old, young, hipster, non hipster, poor, wealthy, women, men, non-binary, queer, white, of color, conservatives, liberals, vaccinated, not vaccinated, jobless, people with any imaginable job, people from every part of the Earth... Rather we believe in what I like to call ‘multiplicities’: we are not defined and limited by one version of ourselves, we might take many forms, we might be infinite beings. And this is why I experienced that anyone would be able to feel genuinely embraced here. Everyone is welcomed and encouraged to be and to become. This is why I think almost every person that feels connected with this space once, will most probably come again. I remember our neighbor Melek telling me once, “Zart is a temple”. I enjoyed hearing that expression and how genuinely she said it. Of course, she did not mean it in a religious way, but rather spiritual. I could understand that what she meant was that this space represents a rare social and safe shelter, especially needed and appreciated for many in our current times.

Certainly, we will not get along or agree with everyone’s manners all the time. Conflicts take place probably every day. And they may eventually and naturally escalate. One could state that our boundaries become defined when damage is caused and communication is, for whatever the reason, no longer possible. Yet we do our best to deal with these conflicts, trying to confront and resolve the issue in question, without simply suppressing it. In my view, that is the spirit Wladimir successfully brought to the place from the very beginning: how we can discuss, understand each other, with our wishes and differences; communicating and caring. I guess this is what a real community does.

I had been thinking of drawing and writing about this space and community for a long time. At last, I found my moment to start doing so. I was surprised how much more I can take from this. How much more I can learn. There is always something to get and to give. There is always something to know from each other. I enjoy and embrace this. I feel safe and enriched drawing at the market. I do not merely observe and draw, I listen and talk. I am part of its landscape. It is impossible not to do so. I am not invisible, I am not a stranger.

Isabell gives me homemade baked sweets. I drink the most delicious, softly spicy hot chocolate from Daphnée. I sit next to Peter and Selale and chat for a while. Another day next to Nico. In front, Sandra and Cüneyt are working and let me try one of the tastiest flavor combination: figs with tahini, and olives with rosemary leaves. Afterwards, I sit inside Ulvi and Sinan’s stand, next to the gas heating. Ulvi offers me sage tea and Sinan shares with me what looks like Baklava, which another market tender gave to him a few minuts ago. Osama offers me a foamy oat cappuccino and a blanket. Farid gives me something to warm up my hands and tells me about Alger and the Berber. He writes my name in Arabic and assures me the language would be easy for me to learn. Gülten gives me orange and carrot juice, but just with the promise that I will draw her pretty. I tell her I surely will do so, since she is.

Through the drawing, I experience the market in a new form. I appreciate it differently. It can never be not personal here. I am going to get involved and there will always be some exchange. For the first time after years of knowing and seeing the market tenders work, I observe them now more closely, for hours, in their personal and working comfort zone (usually I can not do that for a long time because I am working at the Café or running somewhere else). And it is definitely exciting to do so. Every stand is a little big house in this colorful and vibrant place. All types of faces and voices appear, disappear. It feels as anything could happen anytime. Even when it is freezing cold, and it is much quieter, there is still much more life and movement than many other outdoor, public places in Berlin. And I think this is one of the reasons why street markets are so meaningful for the social life and interactions of the city. For us, people. Because markets are organisms which turn the city alive. They powerfully encourage, at least in Maybachufer (and I dare to suppose in general), diversity, tolerance, collaboration and coexistence.

Besides, I believe the practice of drawing is a valuable and exceptional tool of exploration and documentation, which easily supports and nurtures my participatory observation. I consider it is not as intrusive as using a camera or the phone. Which, at its time, would suddenly interrupt the natural and free-flowing behavior of who I am intending to contemplate and portray. With my pen and paper, I can simply stand by, look and draw, without (hopefully in most occasions) being invasive. I then become a new element of the urban landscape and simultaneously participate in the creation of a new lively and collaborative, social space.

To foster and share this experience is for me a way of thanking this extraordinary community. Furthermore, it represents a way of understanding and engaging with life through one of my beloved mother languages: drawing.