“Where have you kept your provisions?” When this sentence was spoken to friends two months ago, I didn’t really understand it. Who cares where our pasta packs are? “We mean stockpiling, Preppen, do you understand?” someone enlightened me. Nobody knows what’s in store for us in winter: unaffordable gas, no gas, blackouts in the power grid, interrupted supply chains, empty supermarket shelves. At first I thought: Are the hamsters starting again? And aren’t preppers some lunatics in America who dig into the ground and rampage at the Capitol?
But I have to admit: After that evening, the topic fermented in me, after all I always felt bad if I didn’t get something done on time, but everyone else did. It used to be like that at school, when the casual sentence was said: “Didn’t you know that we were going to write math tomorrow?” And it continued through life when people happily told me: I already have it – the university place/job/ man/daycare contract. Did I want to be the last again? Could I soon be sitting in the cold and dark with my husband and two children watching candles, pasta and water supplies run out in a matter of days? A horrible idea.