"How" seems to be the only coherent word that comes to my mind right now. Through a jumble of "A...Wh...Jus...Coul...", 'how' is the only word that emerges intact by my own....my own....my own WHAT? I don't know this emotion- it doesn't have a single name. It is a mix of horror, empathy, disgust, and rage- and 'how' is the only word I can muster.
How could someone think of doing this?
How could someone design this?
How could someones hatred run so deep as to end the lives of not 1, but millions of people?
How could so many people go along with it?
How did we not know?
Going to Auschwitz was very possibly the most humbling day of my life. After the 3 hour train ride, and an hour bus ride, we entered into the Auschwitz Camp- like so many others- through the "Arbeit Macht Frei" gate. Arriving on the other side you are surrounded by brick and barbed wire. Opting for no tour group, mom and I wandered around, taking in everything around us. We came to a small square, and beside was a building, which looked like an air raid shelter. Stepping inside I found that it was the first gas chamber at this camp.
Standing in the small dark room, with pipes for 'showers,' it hit me. I could almost see the old, the young, the infants, the sick, the weak, gasping for air as they were tricked to death. Blinking twice, I realize there's only a small table with a single candle and many flowers. "It's over. It didn't really happen" I tell myself, but something deeper in me says "Yes it did: over and over again." And the tears start flooding.
Moving on to the next room I am greeted by two incinerators, and my stomach clutches again. Looking around the room it is terribly horrifying how efficient the Nazis were. Mom then turns to me and says "How could someone have done this?" We're more alike than I thought.
Emerging into the cold air, we leave the chambers just as a group is going in. Good choice on NOT doing a tour. We instead use our 4zl tour book and go at our own pace.
Visiting mainly Blocks 4, 5, 6, and 11 we become witnesses to the holocaust. We saw 7 tons of human hair- contain traces of cyclone B, suitcases with names and addresses still on them, shoes, brushes, glasses and crutches. I saw a grown man crying over a casing. When I walked up to see the case, I found it full of children's clothing, soothers, rattles, and little shoes. My heart stopped.
Carrying on, we came to the execution wall, and the "Death Block (11)" which contained cells for various means of death including starvation and suffocation. In one room- cell 18- was a memorial to Father Maximilian Kolbe, now a Catholic Saint who traded places with another man at the camp because he had a son with him. Father Kolbe was sentenced to death by starvation, and died in this cell.
Losing track of time, we missed our first bus, but quickly found an alternative. Arriving back in Krakow, we ran to catch the next train, which again- pulled away seconds after we sat down (we almost missed our train this morning too, because we forgot the camera). We are now on our way to Prague via sleeper train.
As I'm sitting here reflecting on our day, my thoughts move from the past: "How did we not know?"
To the present:"How can we let this still happen in Darfur and around the world?"
To the future: "How can we ensure this never happens again?"
Love,
Creighton
No comments:
Post a Comment