(C) Global Voices
This story was originally published by Global Voices and is unaltered.
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Three African women’s train ride from Copenhagen to Hamburg through racism and resilience [1]
['Zita Zage']
Date: 2025-06-26
I attended a conference on African women in Europe in Denmark on June 7 and left the summit feeling empowered and electrified, like I could lift a continent.
Born in Ghana, I’ve spent the last two years living in Germany. I moved here to further my education after working for some time within the information technology and non-profit sectors. Back home, connecting with people was effortless, and I was constantly surrounded by community. Here, I can go days without speaking to anyone, trapped in silence by a language I don’t yet speak. The loneliness can feel like fog, ever-present and numbing. So when I saw the chance to attend a summit where African women were gathering, I leapt at it. Little did I know that a nine-hour journey would turn into a three-day saga of chaos and discrimination, but also new friendships.
The journey back: Trains, setbacks, and unexpected sisterhood
On Sunday, June 9, 2025, I reluctantly stepped out into the gray Copenhagen afternoon, straight to Copenhagen Central Station to catch my train to Dresden.
When I reached the platform where my train was meant to depart, a cold jolt of panic shot through me, there was no train. A kind Danish woman helped me check the train app and told me my track had changed. I turned to sprint to the new platform only to bump into Rachel, one of the dynamic speakers from the summit, who had shared how she empowers other women in Kenya through her training workshops. We exchanged a quick, surprised laugh, and she told me her train was at 4:00 pm, before I raced on to catch my own train.
Somewhere near Nyborg, the train shuddered to a halt. An electricity failure. Minutes dragged into hours. We sat wrapped in scarves, tension and fatigue thick in the air. Five hours passed. The final announcement came: We were to return to Copenhagen on a different train.
I made my way to the designated meeting point for stranded passengers. And there they were again, Rachel and Elizabeth Ragwar (two participants from the conference I attended), familiar faces in the growing blur of an unforgettable journey. We shared tired smiles and soon fell into conversation. We drifted from train woes to comparisons of our home countries’ railway systems. Rachel said with a proud laugh:
Even though we have several challenges in Kenya, the Kenya Railways is not one of them. It’s always on time!
After taking a few pictures together — proof that joy can still live in disruption — I managed to book a nearby hotel for the three of us. As we headed toward it, we spotted an elderly German man and his daughter struggling to find a hotel. Without thinking twice, we invited them to join us at our hotel. Even in exhaustion, kindness traveled with us.
The hotel was supposed to be just seven minutes from the station. But thanks to my abysmal sense of direction and my battle with Google Maps, our short walk turned into a frustrating 30-minute zigzag.
When we finally arrived, relief washed over us. But it didn’t last long.
While the old, historic building was inevitably charming in the daylight, its lack of an elevator meant we had to carry our heavy luggage up to the lobby and again to the third floor. The staircase creaked under our weight, and every step felt like climbing a mountain with bricks in our bags. The hotel owner, a kind man with patient eyes, helped us carry our things; his small gesture felt like a lifeline.
Finally settled, we washed the weariness off our skin, collapsed onto the beds, and let the day melt into conversation. In that small, dimly lit room, something powerful happened. We talked. Really talked.
Challenges of an African migrant in Germany
We spoke of what it meant to be migrants in Europe, about dreams and disillusionment, about carrying the weight of two cultures in foreign soil. The air grew thick with shared memories and pain.
Rachel opened up about a German teacher who, for reasons never explained, made her life unbearable, so much so that she transferred schools.
Elizabeth recounted the pain of being deported back to Kenya after spending more than six months outside Germany and giving birth. Even on her most recent journey to Denmark, she faced racial profiling and interrogation. She shared the incident through a post on Facebook:
I told them how, during one of my school projects, I forced myself into a group made up of three Germans and a Czech student. At first, they claimed their group was full, though it clearly wasn’t. And when I joined anyway, they made it so uncomfortable for me that every meeting felt like a battlefield.
We fell asleep that night not just as fellow travelers, but as kindred spirits. That room, with its creaky floorboards and mismatched curtains, held the weight of so many untold stories. And yet, it felt safe.
The unending journey back to Germany
The next morning, we devoured a hearty breakfast without knowing it would be our last proper meal for the day. Then we made our way back to the train station, full of hope that our luck was turning. But when we asked the DSB train official for our route to Germany, the answer was a punch to the gut: There was no direct train to Hamburg.
Instead, we’d have to take a patchwork journey: four separate trains just to reach Hamburg. Then, there would be even more trains to our final destinations.
We boarded the first train at 12:42 pm. Just an hour in, another disruption: a mechanical failure. We would need to disembark and change trains yet again.
The delays stacked up like dominoes. Each train brought a new issue. Rachel, despite the pain visibly etched in her face from carrying a massive backpack, kept smiling. Elizabeth and I, with our rolling suitcases, offered to help, but she insisted she was okay.
Through all the disarray, laughter still found us.
With every transfer and every delay, I learned more about the women beside me. Rachel, a mother of two and passionate about empowering rural communities, is the founder of ManGo Development. Elizabeth, a mother of one, was once deep in the world of IT and complex network systems, but now channels that technical brilliance into digital marketing.
They are both from Kenya and have lived in Europe for over two decades. They’ve seen the peaks and valleys. They’ve felt the sting of racism and the triumph of pushing past it. But more than that, they are warriors, quietly and persistently moving forward. They carry stories that could shake the walls of any room they enter.
And on that chaotic, rerouted, delayed journey, their stories, their laughter, and their spirit kept reenergizing me. In the middle of inconvenience, we found community. In exhaustion, we found joy. In chaos, we created memories.
On our fifth train of the day, we slumped into our seats beside a Swedish woman. The fatigue was etched into our faces, but as usual, we sparked a conversation. Soon, the carriage filled with laughter as we traded stories like old friends.
Experiencing racism in Europe
After 10 grueling hours and six different trains, we finally arrived in Hamburg. We exhaled, thinking the worst was behind us — but at the Deutsche Bahn information desk, things took a darker turn.
Rachel, fluent in German, approached a staff member, Herr Richter. She explained our ordeal, showed him her tickets, and politely asked for the next train to Cologne. He looked into the system, printed the itinerary, and handed it over. Elizabeth followed, making her request in German as well, and received the same courtesy.
Then it was my turn. I stepped forward and began speaking in English. Without looking at me, Herr Richter waved me aside and said curtly, “Move. Next.” Just like that.
Confused and humiliated, I started to step away, but Rachel and Ragwar intervened. They told him we are together and insisted he attend to me as well.
Herr Richter’s response? “You need to say bitte,” he snapped, demanding the German word for “please.”
Rachel, ever composed, responded,
We’re foreigners. Our German isn’t perfect. But we can speak English.
That’s when he lost it, shouting:
I don’t speak English. Go away!
He threw my documents across the counter like they were trash.
There was a long, heavy silence.
Rachel confronted him, her voice steady but firm. Elizabeth stepped in again, softening her words, repeating the request with bitte, even though the damage had already been done.
I was too exhausted, too stunned, to argue. But Rachel and Elizabeth, who have each lived through decades of subtle and overt racism in Europe, knew exactly what had just happened. It wasn’t about the language. It was about us.
Rachel waited at the station for her train to Cologne. I joined Elizabeth on her train to Berlin. With incredible kindness, Elizabeth said I could stay at her home for the night.
Before I left for Dresden the next day, we sat down for one last conversation. Her words burned into my heart:
Black people have gotten used to being treated like shit — at school, at work, everywhere. And when you speak up, people say you’re playing the race card. But this is systemic. And unless we speak about it, nothing will change.
Her words echoed in my mind on the final train to Dresden. When the ticket inspector approached, he greeted the two white women before me with a warm “Guten Tag” (good day). When he reached me, his tone shifted to a flat, “Hello.” Then, he slid back to “Guten Tag” for the woman behind me.
Subtle. Yet unmistakable. It may seem small, almost petty to some. But racism isn’t always loud. It’s often quiet, cumulative — a thousand paper cuts. And you feel every single one.
We could have chosen to fly. But we decided to take the train, choosing sustainability, hoping our small decision could make a difference for the planet. In return, we were met with days of chaos, exhaustion, and discrimination, served by a system that prides itself on precision and service.
As one passenger noted:
What is the point of saving the environment when the journey costs you your mental health, dignity, and humanity?
We need systems that don’t just move people efficiently, but treat them with equality, kindness, and respect. Until then, our journeys — both literal and lived — will continue to demand not just resilience, but revolution.
[END]
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[1] Url:
https://globalvoices.org/2025/06/26/three-african-womens-train-ride-from-copenhagen-to-hamburg-through-racism-and-resilience/
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