TheTraveler

A Monthly Special Feature from The Traveler at TouristTravel.com

Remembering Auschwitz
By Danny Hizon

“The one who does not remember history is bound to live through it again.” This warning on a stone tablet is found at the Auschwitz Death Camp.

Auschwitz: For all its notoriety much of the world seems to have forgotten this symbol of the Holocaust and, more importantly, its lesson. How do we explain the killing fields in Cambodia, the ethnic cleansing in Bosnia, the genocide in Rwanda, etc.

I remember making a wish to visit Auschwitz whenever I read about it in the past, but as more popular travel destinations compete for my scanty budget my wish remained just that for a long time. The visit did happen recently but only accidentally.

I was in Katowice to visit my godson Wojtek for the first time since his baptism 23 springs ago. Katowice is a small quiet city in the coal mining region of Silesia in the southern part of Poland. There is not much to see or do here. Historic Krakow is nearby but I’d been there before. Prague in the Czech Republic is not too far but I did not possess the required visa. Then I remembered Auschwitz. When Wojtek mentioned that it would take only a short drive to get there, I decided to go the following morning.

As we went to bid Wojtek’s mother goodbye her face turned very sad and the sadness told in her voice. She said “I am sorry, today is a sad day for you.” That puzzled me. We’re going on an outing and for me an outing is always an occasion to be carefree and happy.

Small unremarkable towns and villages interspersed with gently rolling green meadows and about an hour of leisurely drive separate Katowice and Auschwitz. When we reached a neighborhood of middle class homes I noticed that the road was filling with cars. Wojtek slowed down and after a little while he parked in front of a restaurant. I assumed that we were going to get some refreshments before proceeding and was therefore surprised when he informed me that we had arrived. I didn’t know what a death camp looks like but I was certain this place does not fit its description. Shady trees, green lawns, a clear day and cool crisp air do not conjure an image of death.

Appearances can and do deceive.

The trees partially hide what appears to be a community of 2-storey red brick buildings neatly arranged in rows. As we came closer the words “Arbeit Macht Frei” on the steel arch of the gate became readable. “Work Will Set You Free” the guide for the group we joined later translated it. This is what remains of Auschwitz Death Camp, now the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum.

Our guide leads us to an area just outside the gate where she begins her lecture. Here, during the war years when the camp was operational, freight trains or cattle trains cramped with humans arrived from all corners of German occupied Europe. The new arrivals were unloaded and processed; they were told to line up and a doctor standing with camp officers near the beginning of the line appraised them and then motioned them to go either to the left or to the right. The left was a death sentence, the right meant a reprieve or going to labor camps before eventual death. Those who were ill, disabled, and unfit for work went to the left and the rest to the right. One listens to the guide with little emotion.

Then on to the camp we go passing through the gate like those prisoners a long time ago. Inside the buildings are poignant reminders of what happened here: one glass encased room is filled with dusty shoes of all sizes, colors and types, other rooms with clothing, eyeglasses, wheelchairs and walking aids, suitcases with names and addresses of their owners written on them, etc. It is when one sees these things and imagines what happened to their owners that the emotion starts to swell.

The roomful of children’s clothing is particularly moving; the eyes begin to moist. The room with human hairs makes the body shudder as it signals that the inevitable end is near. The heart feels heavy and the feet drag but are prodded by the anticipation of seeing the much-publicized gas chamber and “human oven” (by what other name can one call this thing that turned humans into ashes?).

“The first relatively small gas chamber was built in Auschwitz I. Here the experimental gassing using Zyklon B gas first took place on September 3, 1941. … much larger, permanent gas chambers connected to very large crematoria were built in Auschwitz-Birkenau, where the mass exterminations were mainly carried out … ” according to the Museum’s website. The guide adds that at peak capacity the camp was burning up to 20,000 bodies a day. Still the capacity was not enough and bodies that could not be accommodated were thrown into burning funeral pits.

I just loved our guide. She’s beautiful and has the air of a history professor who delivers her lines with restrained emotion. She continues her lecture:

The exterminations were done mechanically - men, women and children were undressed, driven into the gas chamber, their corpses removed after gassing and transferred to the crematorium. Any thing of value was retrieved and utilized for the German industries: gold was removed from teeth and fingers, hidden jewelry was searched from orifices of bodies, women’s hair was cut and sent to textile factories, and ash was used to fertilize farms.

Appearances were put up to hide from the world what was happening here.

Flower gardens camouflaged the subterranean gas chambers. Euphemism hid the real meaning of the words found in documents: Final Solution (read extermination), transportation (read deportation) of the Jews, special treatment (read gassing) of the Jews.

Deception was employed to hide from the victims what they were about to go through.

“(They) were funneled through the undressing rooms, were told to hang their clothes on hooks and remember the number, and promised food after the shower and work after the food … unsuspecting, clutching soap and towels (they) rushed into the gas chambers.” “Zyklon B poured through openings of the gas chamber … trickled down over the men women and children … they then started to cry out terribly for they now knew what was happening to them …”

When the war was over the results of the extreme wickedness that occurred in this camp became known. Historians estimate that at least 1.1 million Jews, 140,000 Poles mostly political prisoners, 20,000 gypsies, 10,000 Soviet prisoners of war and over 10,000 prisoners of other nationalities perished in this camp.

After learning that a big number of Polish citizens suffered here, I came to understand Ewa’s sadness. It is the collective sadness of the Polish people that remains very deep 60 years on. I cannot comprehend how such cruelties could befall a gentle people who I consider the most kind-hearted and sweet in Europe. I am a recipient of unforgettable acts of kindness from complete strangers in this country.

While proceeding by bus to the Birkenau section of the Museum, I told our guide how exhausting the 4-hour tour must be for her. She replied that it is exhausting physically and emotionally not only for her but for the visitors as well. Indeed so. But I felt grateful for this accidental tour that was turning out to be a monumental experience. I was beginning to appreciate how important it is for people to see this camp and remember its lesson so that we don’t allow what happened here to be repeated ever.

After inspecting the barracks and the ruins of a gas chamber and crematorium our guide gathered us all in front of the memorial to the victims of the Holocaust. She told us “Don’t say ‘I’m glad it’s all over’ because somewhere in the world genocide is still going on.”

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