by Isolde Hilt • translated by Kristin Frauenhoffer
In reality, we often only realise much later, if at all, where and when life has presented us with a turning point. One with profound consequences. Over 30 years ago, the paths of Carlos and Peter Alberter crossed. At a time when both were facing a big question mark. Despite an excellent degree in special education, Peter had not yet found a permanent job. At 15, Carlos was considered a severely troubled teenager, even a hopeless case – without a real family, and no children’s or youth home was able to cope with him anymore. ‘Let’s put the two of them together and see what happens,’ fate thought. It rewarded both of them richly – for their courage to engage with each other and not give up.
This story is about Carlos, who now works as a security guard in the United States. And about Peter Alberter, who can look back on 30 years at the KAP Institute – a company that enjoys an excellent reputation as a specialist in experiential educational projects, further education and outdoor training courses.
It takes a while before we can arrange to meet online. There’s the time difference, but also the limited number of days off. Carlos, who has both German and American citizenship, has been living in Florida for over seven and a half years. He works in security – employed as a manager in a company, but also self-employed for various companies and a fire station to make ends meet.
You have to be flexible and keep at it if you want to make a living, he explains. With the change of government at the beginning of the year, it wasn’t just food prices that skyrocketed. Orders have also dried up. Many holiday home owners from neighbouring Canada, for example, have given up their holiday homes in the ‘Sunshine State’ in the far south-east of the USA, which they always had to check on in their absence.
Carlos has worked hard for everything he has achieved. Although he already had a wealth of professional experience as a security guard in Germany, he had to retrain in the United States in order to obtain the relevant licenses. This meant, among other things, cramming for exams and raising the necessary funds to complete his training. However, growing up in Germany and having to fight his way through have repeatedly proven to be helpful qualities: ‘You have opportunities here, no matter what your status is. What you do with them, how you do it – no one asks. As long as you pay your taxes and your licenses are valid, you can do whatever you want. That’s not possible in Germany.’
And so he achieved what many envy him for: ‘I soon financed my own car, which cost quite a bit. After a few years, I had my first supervisor job, and now I’m a manager. When people come to me and ask, “How do you do it?”, I tell them they should ask themselves what they’re doing wrong.’ This need to work hard has shaped the man in his forties. His American compatriots, he notes, love to complain, but on the other hand don’t really want to change anything.
Complaining isn’t his thing. That takes time, which you don’t have when you’ve been in survival mode too often. It’s not easy to sketch out Carlos‘ life. He has been through so much in so many different worlds that it’s a miracle how organised and reflective he is today. It’s quite possible that his job as a security guard gives him what he has been searching for so long: security and clear structures.
When you are already fighting for survival as a little child
The picture of a person is never complete. Some parts are always missing because they have been forgotten, suppressed for a valid reason, or considered unimportant. And yet, there is a sense that you are facing a life under conditions that would break many others. Carlos‘ memories begin when he is adopted in Germany at the age of five.
He hardly goes into detail, but casual remarks suggest that he was already struggling to survive as a small child. Neighbours call the youth welfare office to report his adoptive parents. But the message in his forced home is all too clear: ‘If you say anything that harms us, something will happen to you.’ Beatings are part of his everyday life. He gets into trouble, a lot of trouble, as Carlos suggests, in order to escape this household. ‘I was also admitted to a psychiatric ward on suspicion of suicide, but I wasn’t a psychiatric case, and then they moved me from one children’s home to the next.’
The path ahead seems clear. How can a boy who has to go to extremes to protect himself, who knows no safe environment but only escape, fit in or adapt anywhere? Nothing keeps him in St. Vincent, a child and youth welfare facility run by the Catholic Youth Welfare Service in Regensburg. He disappears again and again and finally decides to live on the streets: ‘I was about 13. And that’s when the whole thing with drugs and alcohol started.’
Somehow, however, there must always have been an inner, functioning authority in Carlos that allowed him to do many borderline things, but also knew when to stop. When asked if he sold drugs to keep his head above water, he says: ‘No. I wasn’t really into that. I never wanted to be. But I worked as a middleman at the techno disco and got my share.’ All in all, he lived on the streets for three or four years, with interruptions.
A trip to the desert pushes the reset button for Carlos
As unpredictable as life may be, it never tilts all to one side. In St. Vincent, people continue to worry about the boy who seems impossible to control and whom no other children’s home wants to take in. And then it clicks…
There’s Carlos. And there’s Peter Alberter, who has successfully completed his training as a special needs teacher but is unemployed because there are currently no vacancies for him. After lengthy negotiations – presumably also due to a lack of alternatives – the youth welfare office approves an unusual experiential education program. Carlos is allowed to choose between hiking, mountaineering, sailing or cycling. He opts for the latter: ‘It was approved. But I had to promise that when I finished the trip, I would go to a St. Vincent residential group home.’ He shrugs his shoulders and recalls: ‘Promises are very easy because they’re just words.’ Anyone who’s only ever lived in survival mode starts out with a different inner compass. ‘I was never stupid. It was a chance to get out of Germany for once and see something different.’
From Morocco to Germany by bicycle
Six months on their own, together day and night, sometimes in very adverse conditions. It’s usually good not to know what to expect beforehand. But once you’ve actually done it, you wouldn’t want to have missed an experience like this.
In any case, it was no holiday, as Carlos lets slip. They set off from Agadir in Morocco. The first two weeks were spent acclimatizing and getting the bikes ready. ‘Peter and I played the flute for the guests at the hotel, put a hat out and showed them our planned route on a map.’ He laughs and recalls ‘Alle meine Entchen’ and ‘Ännchen von Tharau’ – songs they played as a duet. He really enjoyed playing the flute.
The first few weeks are tough and a complete turnaround for Carlos. He recounts it so vividly, as if it were only a few weeks ago and not thirty years: „We cycled a few kilometers and my knees were already hurting. And I was lazy. The headwind was awful. Everything was awful. I had a thousand excuses not to cycle anymore. I didn’t want to pitch the tent, I didn’t want to do anything.“
On top of that, there was the withdrawal from drugs and alcohol. But in Peter Alberter, he had a sparring partner at his side who couldn’t be ruffled. There was no escape, especially not when cycling through the desert. As sometimes it must, it all blows up: ‘We yelled at each other and I wanted to beat him up. I even lunged at him…’ The fight didn’t last long, Carlos summarizes with an admiring undertone. Peter is very tall, strong and can take a lot. ‘I think I needed that somehow: to lose and still get back up. At that point, I wanted to give up, but then I didn’t.’ That was somehow the turning point, and from then on, everything went better – an important prerequisite for surviving in the desert and high mountains.
The challenges were accordingly tough. When it suddenly starts snowing in the mountains, your jeans are your scarf and socks are your gloves, and you somehow have to get your bike through the deep snow, you become particularly attached to life and feel a strong connection to yourself and your companion. This bond is not limited to that moment alone.
The desire to live was stronger after all
Looking back, Carlos says he realized that this wasn’t just a trip or an adventure spanning 5,500 kilometers. It was a decision for life. He had always been a stubborn bloke. Even though he wanted to give up several times, it was never really the better option. There was this inner urge to show the world. Do it! ‘That hasn’t changed to this day. Today, I no longer have to prove anything to anyone. But I’m not the type to give up.’ He adds with a smile: ‘Even though Peter’s calm, composed manner drove me to distraction more than once.’
What the boy from back then dismissed as ‘stupid teacher talk’ at the beginning slowly turned into trust with every kilometer he cycled. Combined with the realization that there are still people who really care about you. Who don’t betray you, whose word counts for something and who don’t let you down. Carlos came back stronger – fitter, no longer so combative: ‘I suddenly had goals, such as “I want to cycle up the mountain without a break” or “We’ll reach the ship from Morocco to Spain”.’
What happened to Carlos after the desert tour
Back in Regensburg, Carlos tries to keep his promise. But he does not feel welcome in the residential group. The worlds that collide there are too different. Envy and exclusion are inevitable. He decides to return to the streets, but the downward spiral no longer has the same effect as before. There are people like Hans, an educator at St. Vincent’s, and his family, who invite him to their home. And something else has happened quietly and silently: his inner compass has realigned itself in the desert. The goal now is ‘life’: to take it into his own hands in order to free himself from an environment that is not good for him.
Carlos goes to Hamburg, manages to get off the streets with the help of social services and works his way forward step by step. From newspaper delivery to the Red Cross in the area of membership recruitment, then to the Maltese. In between, he is also self-employed for a while. At some point, he qualifies for security work. He is on site at events, border controls and in refugee homes. Working in asylum shelters sets off his inner alarm again. Endless suffering and ‘screwing up’ go hand in hand. He feels that he has to leave if he doesn’t want to put himself in danger.
Fate comes knocking on his door once again. His sister from America, with whom Carlos shares the same biological parents, has tracked him down: ‘I was searching for my roots, and somehow she was too. Then one day, I got a message from her in English on Facebook.’ He seizes the opportunity and returns to the United States, his father’s homeland, with his second citizenship.
Has life become easier for him? Carlos makes the best of it. As a survivor, he knows how to appreciate the many little moments. For example, when he lovingly cares for his 91-year-old grandmother and takes her to a doctor’s appointment, or when he cooks one of his favorite dishes, such as beef roulades with ribbon noodles. Who knows what the future holds? ‘One thing I can say is that life is not a one-way street. If you want something, you have got to get off your butt and work for it. Thirty years later, I’m still here and even protecting people.’ And quietly, at the end of the conversation, he adds: ‘We need a few more people like Peter.’
And what became of Peter?
The desert trip also left its mark on Peter Alberter and provided him with important insights. Being outdoors in nature – in the forest, in caves, on mountains, by the sea, in the desert – is the best place for a person to find themselves again. Here, so much can be healed without many words.
The special needs teacher, experiential educator, outdoor trainer and specialist nurse for child and adolescent psychiatry has been sharing this source of inspiration, which he has discovered for himself, with other seekers in training courses, workshops and team-building events for over 30 years, together with his wife Annett and his team of experts. The KAP Institute, which he founded 30 years ago with a heart in its logo, inspires because it stands for enjoying life and confidence. And there is another group that Peter has never lost sight of: children and young people who, like Carlos, have stumbled. They find new stability and themselves in an intensive experiential therapy group at the KAP Institute.
Further information about the KAP Institute in German:
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