Sorb minority struggles for survival 

Germany's Sorbs, one of Europe's oldest and smallest minorities, are mounting a last-ditch campaign to preserve a rural way of life that survived Nazi persecution and decades of communist rule.
   
Energy group Vattenfall Europe wants to uproot thousands of people from their homes to expand its open cast brown coal mines in Lusatia, the watery flatlands in the south eastern corner of Germany which are home to the 60,000-strong Slav community.
   
"We are fighting against Vattenfall and local politicians - this is about the environment and about keeping our way of life," said Rene Schuster, a Sorb environmental campaigner.
   
Sorbs have lived in Germany for more than 1,000 years and their language has similarities to Czech and Polish.
   
Lusatian street signs are in two languages and local radio airs a few hours of Sorb programmes each week.
   
Sorbs marry in black, play bagpipes and stage a pig-slaughtering festival in January.

They are famous for their intricately painted Easter eggs and colourful processions.
   
Open cast mining has forced 30,000 people and 136 Lusatian villages to move since 1924 and much of the upheaval happened during and shortly after East German Communist rule.
   
Vattenfall has recently submitted plans to extend its open cast mining in five areas which would mean moving another 3,000 to 4,000 people.
   
The community blames the brown coal industry, one of the most highly polluting forms of power generation, for the decline of the Sorb, or Wendish, culture.
   
"We get more consultation and better compensation now but that does not help preserve Sorb traditions," said Schuster, pointing to a water pump in the former village of Lakoma where his house used to stand. 
   
Dirty jobs
   
Brown coal is cheap and used for roughly a quarter of Germany's power production.
   
"It's unacceptable that we have to give up our homes for dirty power stations," said Matthias Berndt, a Protestant priest who has three parishes that are threatened.
   
Vattenfall says it has set up modern facilities in eastern Germany and politicians welcome the jobs the company provides in an area suffering from high unemployment and depopulation.
   
The emigration of youngsters from parts of Brandenburg and Saxony is taking its toll on the Sorb community.
   
Only about 20,000 people still speak Sorb and even locals admit it has few practical uses.
   
"It is important to learn the language because it would be a sin to reject the legacy of our forefathers," said Mirko Schmidt, director of a dual-language school in Crostwitz.
   
His brightly painted premises, with picture alphabets spelled out in German and Sorb on the classroom walls, has 69 pupils and is one of six bilingual primary schools in Lusatia.
   
The Nazis banned Sorb newspapers and institutions and forced them to assimilate but, after 1945, East Germany's Communist government supported the minority and helped them set up theatres, libraries and other cultural institutions.
   
In return the state demanded complete loyalty.
   
"Sorb speakers fell in number even with state support and the result was not that our community grew," said Schmidt.
   
Sorbs acknowledge they are too few in number to form a strong political force.
   
"It's difficult for us get anywhere in Berlin. We just want support for our culture so it survives for future generations," said Jan Nuck, head of the Domowina Sorb group.