Auschwitz...

Yesterday, I was walking out of dance class, and I told a group of little girls to have a good Easter break. One of the little girls stops and says, “You speak funny!” I laugh a little then start to explain, “That is because I am from America, and we speak English there.” She contemplated it for about two seconds then looked at me resolutely, “No, you just speak funny.”

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One week ago today, I was in Poland and packing my bags to come back to Germany. We were there visiting the Auschwitz concentration camp, a very significant camp in the Holocaust, and we had seen so much in our short six days there that I hope I will never forget and take with me. Since we’ve been back, we all hear the question: “How was it?” How do you describe one of those places without getting into a full debate? My standard answer: “I learned a lot.” A couple of the teachers just don’t seem to grasp the concept of what we were doing: “Was your trip wholesome?” (a teacher used the words ‘wholesome!’) “How was Cracow?” (like it was just a sightseeing trip!) Well, I honestly think that a person can’t have appreciated Auschwitz, and everything we saw unless they put it into perspective. I tried to do just that.

Excerpt from my journal:

“So the day began with a trip to Auschwitz-Birkenau, and from the first glance, it looked exactly what I had imagined a concentration camp looked like, which Auschwitz had proved wrong the day before, except for the buses of Israelis pouring out, wearing their blue and white flag (with Jewish star) proudly. The camp was huge, bare, muted, the miles of barbed wire stuck out in the middle of nowhere, hardly any trees shielded the prisoners from the summer sun and the paths were large puddles, where even with mats on the ground, shoes were soaking wet. My group of Germans kept looking at the Israelis, waving these ridiculous flags and the world “unangenehm” or “unpleasant” kept being said over and over again, as they would whisper more quietly in German as the star of David passed by and they (the Israelis) posed for photos with their flags at every possible place. I debated speaking English loudly to ease the tensions and establish us as Americans, granted, it wasn’t at all that serious. Just “unangenehm.” We walked up to the main watchtower and the sounds of clunking military boots filled my ears, they ducked under the same low walkways that we did. They looked out across the squared miles of people, starving and dying, and just saw justice. I tried to imagine the grounds full of starving people; I just felt a mass of burden. The tour continued into a horses stable built for 52 horses that, instead, held anywhere from 400 to 800 or 1000 Jews. Unangenehm. The thin wood walls were a joke and the slats of the “beds” couldn’t have handled the weight of a normal person. One fireplace should warmed the entire place from one corner, for the minimal time it was on. We walked the grounds, and it was easier for me to imagine a new line of train cars coming in with confused people. Prisoners stood to one side to take people’s belongings to the “Canadas” and the officers were yelling loudly: “Frauen und Kinder links and Männer rechts!” (We stood at the railroad tracks and looked at a lone, old car that was ironically a gift from Germany) Dr. Mengele stood at the front and motioned simple with his thumb whether the people were in good enough condition to work. The elderly, children, and too weak were reassured of the thought of a nice “shower” as they were lead to gas chambers/crematoriums. (We saw the ruins of 5 burned down combination building that had been used to kill 70-75% of the people that came, who were never even prisoners) The German officers reminded them to remember what numbered hook they had left their stuff at as they were huddled into a room and they look expectedly at the fake shower heads. What a though out story, less than 20 minutes later, fellow prisoners were shoving them into the crematoriums, praying to not recognize one of the motionless faces. (Up to 2,000 people could meet this fate at one time) On the other hand, the stronger people were being herded into a “sauna,” where they were being forced to strip, and officers searched for weak people/pregnant women that they had overlooked earlier. (We stood in the large opening room on a newly built glass walkway for preservation) Fellow prisoners searched through their belongings and tried to smuggle valuable goods for trading later (we looked in the room with displayed suitcases, clothing, hairbrushes, money, watches, and photos) They, then, caught glimpse of a sign above the doorway: Haarschneiderei. SS officers brutally cut off all hair on people’s bodies, hastily, mocking, and jeering. Their skins were also burned with needles, numbers replaced names. (The room couldn’t have been half of the size of our den back at home, and my imagination flicked back to the enormous pile of hair discovered at the Stammlager.) They continued walking, still humiliated and naked, bare, exposed. The showers were at least something to look forward to, until they were shoved in the next large room and freezing cold or scalding hot water seared their skins. The assembly line continued. They were directed to a “drying room,” where they had to wait for clothes to be disinfected by other prisoners from steam or hot water. (We walked past the big machines. “Desinfizierte Wäsche” could be read above the door) Finally, the prisoners were beat and screamed at until they were in the last room, where they received the new clothes and the fresh tattoo still burned the skin. A new identity and the beginning of a new life was given to them (or a lack of one.)

Our stay in the Polish town of Oświęcim, also known as the German name “Auschwitz,” we learned a lot. We stayed in “The Center of Dialogue and Prayer,” which was less than a five minute walk away from Auschwitz I, the Stammlager. I remember my first sight of the camp from our bus from the airport, my stomach felt sick, looking at the old brick buildings. The Stammlager has been turned into a museum now, and a person walks through exhibits about Prisoner Life, the beginning of the War, Proof of War Crimes, Living Conditions, Starvation, and so much more. But in the midst of all these glass cases and carefully laid out exhibitions, you forget that you’re standing in a block where people previously laid there and died every night. You just have to remind yourself. Several countries have also set up exhibitions, using one of the blocks, honoring the victims in their country that suffered from the Holocaust and telling their story of what happened. These exhibits include an interesting, very orange one from Hungary; one from Poland that gave me the creeps and made me feel like I shouldn’t be there; one from Israel that did the exact same thing; one from Italy where you walked on a walkway through a winding cloth telling their story of the Holocaust; one from the Netherlands that was just too bright and welcoming (the thought that you were in a block was unimaginable); a interesting, mission like one from France where shadows were painted all over the walls; a bright, white one from Belgium made in 5 or 6 languages; and a couple others. It was interesting, because each country had control of their exhibit, so a couple like Austria made it appear like they had fought against Hitler’s powers so much and how they had been such an innocent ‘victim.’

There is so much more to say about Auschwitz. In our time there, we went to all three Auschwitz camps, received three hour tours in both Auschwitz I and Auschwitz II- Birkenau; we met a Polish Holocaust survivor who had the most luck during the entire experience; we went to a art exhibit from a man who survived the Holocaust and spent years painting his experience; we visited the Jewish Synagogue, museum, and graveyard in the town of Auschwitz; we went to the city of Cracow for a day; and we had hours and hours of group discussions where we discussed if Auschwitz was “a state of mind, a cemetery or a museum” or if , as a German, a person should feel “shame, anger, or sadness.” Sitting as the only American in the group, it was so interesting listening to their answers and their completely different perspective than mine. I gave a presentation on what Americans learn about the Holocaust, (thanks to the people that helped!) and I was shocked to learn that they hadn’t learned about the Holocaust in school yet. They are supposed to cover it in 10^th grade then again in 12^th or 13^th grade, but their teacher ran out of time. Can you believe going to Auschwitz and not knowing all of the history? We got our first introduction to the Holocaust around 3^rd grade after reading an edit version of Anne Frank’s Diary or Under the Stars, then again in 8^th grade where we read the play of Anne Frank’s Diary and Night and did these outrageous huge reports on the Holocaust that required so much research, then they are covering the Holocaust right now again in US History. We learn. I couldn’t fathom it. Although most kids had looked up quite a bit of information on their own and asked their grandparents, it was still shocking.

All in all, Auschwitz was a great experience, and I can honestly say that I learned so much. I thought of what a crazy mess the world is in and how we are killing our environment all the time and there are all the wars and insane people and how it seems like Revelations but happen any day. Then I remember during the Holocaust how the world must have looked to them when the entire world was literally fighting each other and millions of people were dying because of something they had no choice over. Now in history we are learning about the French Revolution, and I think in the same lines, how insane must have the world looked to them when people were running past uncontrollable with people for the guillotine. The world always seems pretty insane, doesn’t it? How do we take what we learned from over 6,000,000 deaths in the Holocaust (1,300,000 just from Auschwitz) and translate that into the people dying unjustly all over the world today… What have we learned? What do we do?