From contemporary art to a blast from the past. Touring Oscar Schindler's 'Emalia' earthenware factor was like being in a time portal. I expected the museum to simply be a tour of the factory perfectly preserved, or even replicated and tourist friendly. What I experienced, however, was life in Krakow from 1939 to 1945. I walked through the town square, through a typical jewish house, through the ghetto and even through a small segment of Slaszow concentration camp. Yes, this entire experience was a very modern replica of a very barren part of human history, but I have a good imagination- and the sound effects helped. The most important thing to me, however, was that I was in the very factory where so many Polish jews worked, and so many were miraculously saved. I stood where they stood, I saw what they saw, I heard their stories.
Oscar Schindler was not a saint, he did not set out to be a hero, he was a greedy and corrupt businessman. But he was a saviour. I read a quote from one of the 1200 people that he saved that said: "If it weren't for him there would not be me, and there would not be my family either, nor our descendants."
Have you ever felt like you weren't good enough? Ever felt like you were just a face in a crowd, one in a million… useless? Think again.
Today I was overcome not by the immense sadness and brutality- that goes without saying- but by the good amongst the evil, the heroism in Oscar Schindler, a corrupt businessman. It just goes to show that there is good in everyone- immense good, inspiring amounts of good. It is just each person's personal choice if, and how, they express it.
Entrance to Auschwitz concentration camp
Auschwitz Concentration Camp 27/10/11
Auschwitz is beautiful. It's a strange fact, but it is a fact nonetheless. In any other place, under any other circumstance, the red bricks and changing colours of the leaves of the surrounding forestry scattering the earth would be considered picturesque. Peaceful even. Here, however, the beauty makes it that much more eerie, that much more sad.
I don't need to go into the details of how heart-wrenching it was to see the women's hair and the children's clothes preserved and put on display. I won't bother describing the atmosphere of inhumanity and death inside the barracks and the gas chambers alike. I couldn't possibly explain the experience no matter how hard I try. Even I know that there are some things words just cannot describe.
I will say that for three hours I was no longer important. I was no longer an eighteen year old, tanned skin, un-baptised girl from the Caribbean. I was no longer me. Though I can say with almost 100% certainty that if I was a victim of the Holocaust I would have been sent to the gas chambers instantaneously, along with the children under 14 and the adults over 40 as well as those deemed unhealthy or unfit for work. I never would have even seen the inside of the camps. But that is not important. I was not important. I was merely an observer, a fly on the wall, a silent spirit paying tribute to those before me, paying my respects to the spirits of the past.
I did not have flowers to lay at the "wall of death" or a candle to light at the entrance of Auschwitz II- Birkenau. I have never been so overwhelmed by the desire to pray, for those that died and those that survived, for those that lost loved ones and for all those who suffered as well as those suffering today.
The Holocaust may be over, but there is still brutal inhumanity today. So do not forget the horrors of the past, but neither should you overlook the horrors of the present. That is not to say, however, that the love and happiness of the present should be overlooked either. Just remember the next time you fight with a sibling or have a bad day at least you have that sibling to fight with and at least you are alive and healthy. At least you are free.
At the "death wall" my tour guide told me that the victims of the execution used to look their executioners in the eye and shout, loud enough for the other prisoners to hear: "Do not forget me! Remember my name!" So do just that. Remember.
Remember the victims of the Holocaust, remember the victims of the present day horrors, and remember those you love and see everyday. Do not forget to tell them you love them and appreciate them. Do not take them for granted.
And remember yourself. You are not just a number tattooed on your arm. You are not a victim. You are fortunate in more ways than you know. I know I am.
The "Death Wall"
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