the problem with bringing in foreign workers to take care of the old

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A Home for Life: Turkish Migrants Retiring in Germany
A Report by Bertram von Boxberg

Migrants Retiring in Germany, Journal Reporters , DW News
Deutsche Welle, German public state-owned global news TV program

"Schöneberg [Schoneberg] is a district in central Berlin. It's home to people from many different backgrounds. Around 50% of people here were born outside of Germany. And they're getting older.

Turkish immigrants who moved to Berlin as guest workers 40 years ago have reached retirement age. But how will they spend their autumn years?
Even in a large city like Berlin, leasure and social services for this special group are thin on the ground.

But Huzur is an exception. Run by Gülşen Aktaş [Gulsen Aktas], it's a place where retired people with immigrant backgrounds can meet, and get support. Gülşen's mother came to Germany as a guest worker. With a degree in political science, Gülşen knows politicians never plan for the retirement of these guest workers.

As Gülşen explains, migrants were always seen as a temporary phenomena by the political establishment in Germany. They were never expected to spend their retirement years here. And many of the migrants themselves expected to return home. But that's not how it turned out.
Those people stayed in Germany, and grew older.
The idyllic image of a large Turkish family, with the younger generations caring lovingly for their elderly parents, does not always reflect reality. There are often tensions between their parents and their children. Gülşen explains that many second generation immigrants were left in their home countries while their parents got settled in Germany. They came later at the age of 8, 10, or even 15. So they were estranged from their parents. And that she says puts a strain on relationships later in life. Selby Jenga is one of those who can't rely on a family support network. Now 68, she came to Germany more than 40 years ago to work in the garment industry. On a trip to Turkey, she married, and her husband moved to Germany. They had two children together. She says her marriage was hell. Her husband would wake up early and leave the house without saying when he'd be back. If the children asked for something, instead of answering he would just hit them. She says she tried to comfort the children, but her husband was an alcoholic, and a gambler. When he came home, she says, he stank of raki [the national alcoholic drink of Turkey]. She found him disgusting. When Selby Jenga could stand him no more, she left her husband. Her children took their father's side and broke off all contact with their mother.
The saddest thing for Selby is that she doesn't get to see her grandchildren. She says her grandson gave her this branch one day at the playground and said "This is for you to take home, grandma." He was four years old. That's the last time she saw him. She's treasured it ever since.
Today Selby lives alone without her family in a one-room apartment in this huge social housing block in Berlin. In the mid-90s she suffered severe depression and had to be treated in the hospital. She found art therapy helped her come to terms with her sadness.

Many of the women at Huzur are widows.

Gülşen Aktaş says she often sees a kind of burst of liberation among Turkish or Kurdish women once they're widowed. They no longer have to ask permission to go out, to go shopping. They can do what they want, when they want, and they enjoy that freedom a lot."​