I left the blue and white stripy jacket at home, and only on the way out did it occur to me to construct a star from the tour group stickers. I even resisted the temptation to do an "amusing" frying-on-the-electrified-fence photo op. I'm dead respectful, me. Sort of.
What better way to spend a sunny day in Poland than on a day trip to Auschwitz and Birkenau? That seems to be the prevailing theme amongst visitors. Bar the groups of bored schoolchildren, the obviously more emotional veterans, and the busloads of elderly Germans (checking out the Fuhrer's handiwork? Belatedly atoning for their sins? Who knows...), many tourists give the impression of Auschwitz being just another sight to tick off the list - been there, done that. And thus, in the group we visited with, the "lad's holiday" bunch posing beside a Halt sign, and the distracted women discussing kitchen makeovers while walking along the Birkenau railway unloading platform. Thankfully the clearly uncomfortable guide cut short the round of applause (for her) beside the remains of one of the crematoria...
But then, these buildings alone don't tell the full story of the industrial slaughter which took place here. Even standing inside the gas chamber in Auschwitz, passing by the furnaces used to burn the corpses, the experience can seem unreal. The structures at Auschwitz and the partially-destroyed ruins at Birkenau left by the retreating Nazis before the camp's liberation in January 1945 give us an insight into the technicalities of the Holocaust - evidence for the existence of gas chambers, the presence of the deadly gas Cyclon B, the railway infrastructure used for the transportation of the victims, the cramped and unsanitary living conditions of those forced into labour, the tiny punishment cells political prisoners and Soviet P.O.W.s were subjected to.
It is the exhibition rooms which really hit home: displays packed with the hair shorn from women prisoners; piles of twisted glasses taken from those who longer needed their sight; prosthetic limbs, shoes and brushes; baby clothes, serving bowls and Jewish prayer shawls; cases marked with the names and addresses of those who were made victims of genocide. If it was possible to plunder something from the victims to return to the Fatherland, then it was done - the Jews were not people, just commodities to be stripped and destroyed.
In many ways, this part of the visit reminded me to an earlier trip to Oradour-sur-Glane, a French village outside Orleans which was destroyed by the Nazis in 1944, and which still stands today as it did then as a memorial to those who lost their lives. It's the small details which remind us of the humanity of those who perished: these were not just numbers tattooed on skin, but individuals with possessions, with homes, with personalities, hopes and dreams which were snuffed out.
And that we should Never Forget.
What better way to spend a sunny day in Poland than on a day trip to Auschwitz and Birkenau? That seems to be the prevailing theme amongst visitors. Bar the groups of bored schoolchildren, the obviously more emotional veterans, and the busloads of elderly Germans (checking out the Fuhrer's handiwork? Belatedly atoning for their sins? Who knows...), many tourists give the impression of Auschwitz being just another sight to tick off the list - been there, done that. And thus, in the group we visited with, the "lad's holiday" bunch posing beside a Halt sign, and the distracted women discussing kitchen makeovers while walking along the Birkenau railway unloading platform. Thankfully the clearly uncomfortable guide cut short the round of applause (for her) beside the remains of one of the crematoria...
But then, these buildings alone don't tell the full story of the industrial slaughter which took place here. Even standing inside the gas chamber in Auschwitz, passing by the furnaces used to burn the corpses, the experience can seem unreal. The structures at Auschwitz and the partially-destroyed ruins at Birkenau left by the retreating Nazis before the camp's liberation in January 1945 give us an insight into the technicalities of the Holocaust - evidence for the existence of gas chambers, the presence of the deadly gas Cyclon B, the railway infrastructure used for the transportation of the victims, the cramped and unsanitary living conditions of those forced into labour, the tiny punishment cells political prisoners and Soviet P.O.W.s were subjected to.
It is the exhibition rooms which really hit home: displays packed with the hair shorn from women prisoners; piles of twisted glasses taken from those who longer needed their sight; prosthetic limbs, shoes and brushes; baby clothes, serving bowls and Jewish prayer shawls; cases marked with the names and addresses of those who were made victims of genocide. If it was possible to plunder something from the victims to return to the Fatherland, then it was done - the Jews were not people, just commodities to be stripped and destroyed.
In many ways, this part of the visit reminded me to an earlier trip to Oradour-sur-Glane, a French village outside Orleans which was destroyed by the Nazis in 1944, and which still stands today as it did then as a memorial to those who lost their lives. It's the small details which remind us of the humanity of those who perished: these were not just numbers tattooed on skin, but individuals with possessions, with homes, with personalities, hopes and dreams which were snuffed out.
And that we should Never Forget.
Pigtail
Tadeusz Rózewicz (trans. Adam Czerniawski)
When all the women in the transport
had their heads shaved
four workmen with brooms made of birch twigs
swept up
and gathered up the hair
Behind clean glass
the stiff hair lies
of those suffocated in gas chambers
there are pins and side combs
in this hair
The hair is not shot through with light
is not parted by the breeze
is not touched by any hand
or rain or lips
In huge chests
clouds of dry hair
of those suffocated
and a faded plait
a pigtail with a ribbon
pulled at school
by naughty boys.
The Museum, Auschwitz 1948
Tadeusz Rózewicz (trans. Adam Czerniawski)
When all the women in the transport
had their heads shaved
four workmen with brooms made of birch twigs
swept up
and gathered up the hair
Behind clean glass
the stiff hair lies
of those suffocated in gas chambers
there are pins and side combs
in this hair
The hair is not shot through with light
is not parted by the breeze
is not touched by any hand
or rain or lips
In huge chests
clouds of dry hair
of those suffocated
and a faded plait
a pigtail with a ribbon
pulled at school
by naughty boys.
The Museum, Auschwitz 1948
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