Words fail...

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I've been trying to find words,let alone the right ones,to describe my thoughts on Krakow.
But,if I was to wax lyrical about all its charms; the old square and its castle- to name just two...well then, it would simply give you the false impression that I was actually 'present' when visiting these places.
Physically present- I was..
But mentally-not so much.
It's only now that I have left,that I can reflect on my time there and see it for what it really was.

Throughout my time in Krakow, I kept telling myself,that the numbness and indifference I was experiencing, was due to the seemingly obvious explanation-that my love for Berlin, was overshadowing any warmth I could discover for this new destination of mine.
But looking back,I should have known-that that line of reasoning was too simplistic.
I would have assumed,that when staring up at the majestics of a centuries old castle,that I would feel some sort of inklings of admiration.
But I just felt-nothing.

No-my apathy was due to something so much more substantial,yet so insidious that I couldn't see it at first.

Sitting here, knowing that my former self still hasn't completely returned;I understand now,that when I decided to go to Krakow,my time there was predestined to be tainted.

Spending my first two days in Poland visiting 'Auschwitz-Birkenau', I really shouldn't have expected anything less.

Auschwitz.
Remembered not for its name-but for the image it evokes when spoken.
A name forever held hostage by this image-one of 'mans' own inhumanity.

I walked upon the grounds where mass murders once occurred on a daily basis. The grounds Hitler had chosen as his most fierce weapon;grounds to implement his plans for 'The Final Solution' (the systematic extermination of all Jews).Though Jews weren't the only minority to suffer for his intolerance. Pick any minority,and he probably despised all of them- The Roma ('gypsies'),homosexuals, intellects, and the disabled- they were all sent to his labour/death camps. All victims, because of Hitler's desire for a 'superior' race; even though he himself, didn't fit the blue eyes, blond hair ideal that he preached...

(It's inexcusable what we let some people get away with, by looking the other way;or by ignoring the inherent danger that arises when we describe any one person,race,sexuality or way of life as 'normal'.)

I had thought at the end of those two days, that I was leaving, feeling much the same person as I was before.


Yes, I had felt anger- but it wasn't anger at what had taken place there, just over 60 years ago. It was anger at the sheer disrespect to its memory.
Of course what I'm eluding to, is..you guessed it.
The behaviour of tourists.

I couldn't understand why people were posing for photos against the barbwire fence..smiling (the same barbwire fence that had been electrified, when some inmates had thrown themselves upon it to 'escape' the torture they were experiencing inside it's perimeters)..or taking photos inside the gas chamber when the sign clearly asked them not to.
What would possess them to do so anyway?This was a chamber where, while the gas was slowly killing them all,parents had instinctively lifted their children over their heads to give them,no matter how small,a chance at survival.So what is the inclination of people to capture a place like this on camera?
I suppose, if the photos tell their friends and family that 'I have been places' then it's worth it to some.

On my way out of Krakow,feeling suddenly 'awake' ( or maybe it was my subconscious?Breathing a sigh of relief to finally be leaving),my ignorance at my own emotional state became apparent.
Maybe I wasn't overcome by tears at viewing the glass cabinets full of shoes,glasses,suitcases and human hair;all taken away from their owners, never to be reclaimed..and maybe I didn't scream in rage when looking at the photo of gorgeous,tiny little children, huddling together and holding hands,staring into the camera;minutes before they were taken away to be gassed..

But I did leave with guilt.
At feeling any sense of serenity in the beautiful woods, that surround the former grounds of the second camp;where most of the murders took place.

How could I have felt anything other than disgust?
I knew what was to become of the people, who had sat-where I stood now.
Looking up at the trees, that were once silent witnesses to so much horror- I thought of how the people were told to sit and relax here ,while they had waited for their "showers".
At what moment did they realise it was all a lie? When they took their turn in marching towards the smoke, that was rising in the distance?Or when they could smell the unmistakeable smell of burning human flesh?
The questions the victims would have asked of themselves, and of their fellow humans in the moments before their death;just makes each one of these questions that much more painful to ask.


So, as well as guilt, I walked away with a sickness. A revulsion.
Not just at the slaughter of so many innocents;but also at the sheer callousness of giving them hope; in the face of their imminent death.


To kill is one thing,but to cause such brutal maiming of the human spirit, is an act, that can only be described as evil.




Not for one second do I regret going to Auschwitz.

For all I want to do now, more than ever before, is to turn inwards, and root out any ugliness that resides in my own thoughts

Never again, do I want to look at a person who is different from myself, as the 'other'-
Because in that moment, I will become the potential perpetrator of someone elses suffering.

..In a way, to be indifferent to that suffering is what makes the human being inhuman. Indifference, after all, is more dangerous than anger and hatred. Anger can at times be creative. One writes a great poem, a great symphony, one does something special for the sake of humanity because one is angry at the injustice that one witnesses. But indifference is never creative. Even hatred at times may elicit a response. You fight it. You denounce it. You disarm it. Indifference elicits no response. Indifference is not a response.

Indifference is not a beginning, it is an end. And, therefore, indifference is always the friend of the enemy, for it benefits the aggressor -- never his victim, whose pain is magnified when he or she feels forgotten. The political prisoner in his cell, the hungry children, the homeless refugees -- not to respond to their plight, not to relieve their solitude by offering them a spark of hope is to exile them from human memory. And in denying their humanity we betray our own.

-Elie Wiesel (Holocaust survivor)

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Photos

One solitary photo- but the one most relevant . For all passage of time.
Taken in Berlin- translated, it says "against nazis"- "anti-fascist area".
The bottom pic says, so I was told, something like ,"fighting the real terror".
Put up, maybe by the local socialist party. Whoever it was.. I stand, and I salute you; for your lack of indifference.

Comments

[Cat]

THUMBS UP
Hi Lutzs, Great to hear that you are travelling OK. Keep up the safe adventure that lies ahead. Keep smiling, cat xxx