Plaszów: Memorial and Future

Entrance sign in front of Plaszów

On our last exploratory day in Poland, we had the opportunity to go on a walking tour through Kraków and visit the Plaszów Concentration Camp. After seeing Auschwitz I and Auschwitz II, I was slightly unimpressed by the preservation of Plaszów. This sight is marked with a few select signs marking the entrance to Plaszów and different historic locations. The camp is located off of “Abraham” and “Jerusalem” street and what once used to be a place of brutality was now a normal neighborhood.

The ground was dry and arid and appeared to be a simple walking trail. When we asked our tour guide about the topography of the camp she mentioned that in one point in time Plaszów was more built up, but for only a short period of time before the Nazis were forced to destroy their own structures before the end of the way. The area before the camp served as the local park and today, the transformation of concentration camp back to a park is complete. However, you can still see indentations in the walking path that exhibit the place where the Nazi soldiers used to place Jewish tombstones a form of cobblestone. Placing grave markers face down into the dirt is disrespectful to the culture. Since then, the tombstones have been removed and were made into a memorial wall in a nearby cemetery. Still, while we were walking around there were bikers and people casually strolling on this same path.

Memorial in the area of Plaszów

The main difference between the beginning of the park’s formation before the war and the park now is the presence of  markers that serve as memorials.  The memory of the events that occurred on this land is sustained only through specific monuments. The first monument is a cross that was erected in honor of the victims who died here. It is removed from the main path of the nature preserve but can still be seen from the walkway. We did not have the time to approach the memorial very closely, but the placement of the cross in amidst of Jewish suffering was meaningful to me. This showed me that there is hope for even further betterment of Jewish-Christian relationships and that, at least while that monument stands, the events of Plasków will not be forgotten.

The townspeople and people of neighboring towns continue to preserve this memory in a more active manner. Each year in a March of Memory is held walking people from the center of town to one of the memorial sites in the camp. This past year, these events took place on March 13^th, and the walk culminates with the placing of stones on the Jewish memorial that displays the remembrance of “horrible bestiality, ruthlessness, and pain” caused by “Hitlerism”. This memorial also states that “the last cry of despair is the quiet of this cemetery” showing that even as the Jewish people have preserved through this time of suffering, there is still a reason to not forget these events so that genocide will cease and the Shoah will never happen again.

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Beauty IN the Beast (By: Krissy Bucchi)

It has now been almost a month and a half since I have returned from the most powerful and moving experience of my life. For my senior year Spring Break, I decided that I was going to Study Abroad with Iona the history of the Holocaust, and it is easy to admit that I am forever changed as a human being.

When I returned to campus and classes started again, my friends were talking about their vacation to Florida, a mission trip to Philadelphia, a first time experience to California, a week spent at home with family and friends, an adventure in Las Vegas, so many wonderful experiences where they laughed and smiled. My Spring Break was not like that at all, so when the questions started I didn’t exactly know how to answer.

“Hey Krissy, how was Poland? Did you have fun?” I sort of stood still for a few seconds, put my head down to think, and then picked my head up with a fake smile and answered, “Hey! Yeah it was powerful, I learned a lot.”

I process traumatic experiences different than others. It is not easy for me to just ‘move on’ or ‘know that what you saw was just history.’ From beginning to end I was emotional even when I wasn’t crying. The images and words that I saw and heard throughout the week made it real for me.

This monster that was created, this ‘Beast’ that I refer to the Holocaust as, was awful. It sucked the air out of your lungs and punched you right in the gut leaving you breathless. It made your body tremble head to toe and you felt so numb that walking didn’t seem possible. It made you feel weak and my heart hurt feeling so much pain, but then I remembered reading something that said, “Sometimes feeling pain reminds you that you’re still alive.”

Every night I pray. I can spend hours praying sometimes. So let me bring you back to a night in Poland where I prayed quietly to myself in my bed. It was Wednesday (March 23rd, 2016 ) after I had just gotten off the phone with my father, “Goodnight kiddo, I love you.” For some reason those last few words hit me and I started to cry. I turned off the lights and snuggled into bed before I started to pray.

“God, thank you. Thank you for this opportunity, for placing me right here in this moment at Poland. It has only been half the journey this week but I have already learned so much and felt so much. Why do I hurt inside? Why do I feel my heart broken? These people I am studying experienced such terrible things. Why? I feel their pain, I feel their sadness. Tonight I fed my belly with warm food, I washed my body, I heard the voices of my parents, and now I am lying in a soft bed with blankets. So many children had none of those things, but I do. Thank you for waking me up today and for the clean air I can breathe. I love you Lord. Thank you for never leaving me, you are so good. God, you are beautiful in all things.”

I continued my prayers as my thoughts were being thrown all over the place in my head. I feel that God allowed me to see something special in all of the horrible things that happened in Poland. God allowed me to see beauty. Since I have returned from my Study Abroad experience, each day I think about what I have taken away from the trip to Poland.

Recently I think back to the sounds of nature. One of the first things that stood out to me were the trees. During down time in Poland I remember telling one of my best friends from back in the States about how the trees in Poland were so different. The sound the air makes, its smell and taste as it fills your lungs. The color of the sky and the sparkle you see with your eyes. The birds grace and how they float over each gust of wind. The way the sun shines its warmth against your skin and how its color brightens your face.

Putting all of this into perspective, I think about if the prisoners experienced this beauty too. I feel as if they must have, as if it was this kind of hope that would keep them alive throughout their time in the camps. I believe that there was ‘Beauty in the Beast’ of history that these prisoners experienced. I think that is why we still have the ability to see it today because it always existed.

I will be graduating in less than three weeks from Iona College, and I must say that traveling to Poland was the highlight of my college experience. It brought me outside multiple comfort zones and has shaped me into a woman that will share my experiences and education of the Shoah for years to come. To the future students of the Poland trip let me leave you with this; if you choose to read these blogs from past students know that it is all real. When you find yourself writing your own blogs you will understand. What you will experience will shake you in your bones, make your blood boil, tingle your skin, water your eyes, and it will also show you a new way to love, smile larger than ever, open your eyes to new perspectives, and allow you to appreciate everything you have.

Always remember to be a witness, never forget, and never again. Thank you Iona, thank you EPF and Dr. Rozensher, thank you to my team, and thank you Poland; this experience will continue to live inside my heart forever.

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Different Perspectives (By: Shadeyka Warren)

As I prepared to travel to Poland, I knew that it would be an intense trip. However, I didn't know how intense it would be for me. My experience was much more than an educational lesson about the Holocaust. It was a very personal, spiritual, and emotional journey which challenged me to search deep within myself for answers to questions that had been pondering my mind for a while. I believe that it was God's strategic plan for me to be in Poland, at that specific time, and with that particular group of amazing individuals. I feel that my experience was less about the Holocaust, and more about my own personal growth and development. At the beginning of the trip, Father Manfred said to the group, "Your experience here will be connected to and affected by your background," and by the end of the trip, I was beginning to understand what he meant by this. As I went on tours, participated in activities, made new friends, and enhanced my knowledge, I could not help but to think about how each and every one of these experiences was personally affecting me. I realized myself becoming more open-minded, considering different perspectives, and doing a lot of religious reflection. Most importantly, I left Poland feeling more confident in my faith and my relationship with God.

As a secondary witness to the Shoah, I now feel a greater sense of respect for victims of tragedy. To know that people could go through such horrific experiences and still remain true to their faith, religious beliefs, and confidence in God's grace amazed me. Poland is an extremely religious country, and witnessing how religion is such an important part of everyday life surprised me. Although there are also many faithful Christians in America, including myself, it is very rarely that I see the degree of religious unity in America that I witnessed in Poland. I remember watching a video in class before the trip, in which a survivor recalled that during Passover, she and other prisoners hid in the washroom to sing and pray before beginning their work shifts for the day. While I found this very moving during class, it was not until my trip to Poland that her experience became "real" to me. Despite the fact that the prisoners knew they would be immediately murdered if they were caught praying, they did it anyways. Maintaining loyalty and faithfulness to their religion was more important than their own lives. There are many churches ans synagogues in Poland, and we visited quite a few of them. The one thing that I noticed, was that no church or synagogue was empty - they were always filled with people praying.

Church in Wadowice, Poland

Statue of Pope John Paul

Church in Wadowice, Poland

As I reflect on my spiritual growth and religious journey since returning from Poland, I recall the first night at the Centre for Dialogue and Prayer... In preparation for our experience at Auschwitz, Sister Mary shared with the group the four dimensions of dialogue: 1) Listen to the voice of the Earth (know the facts), 2) Listen to the voice of your heart, 3) Listen to the voice of the others, 4) Listen to the voice of God. She ended by asserting, "Encounter the place, the memory, the victims, and yourself. Discover why you are here." I never forgot her words. By the end of the trip, I knew why I was there. Poland was not just about the Holocaust for me. It was about growth, understanding, truth, and knowledge. I would not have wanted to spend my Spring break anywhere else. I feel stronger. I feel fulfilled. I feel accomplished.  

Photos of Holocaust victims

Jewish cemetery behind synagogue

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Becoming a Witness: Clarity and Closure

Entrance gate to Auschwitz I, view from exiting the camp

Last night a few of us were sitting in the lobby, preparing to turn in for the night. It was then that a young man came up to us, and hesitantly asked if he could take a seat and speak with us. The mans name was Frank, a German soldier visiting the center along with a tour group from his home city. His English was wonderful and he asked us who we were, and what had brought us to Poland. He was very curious, and asked us questions in regards to our faith. He then asked us what we felt about Germans visiting The concentration camps. The answer was easy. I turned to him and said that I felt it was wonderful that his people came to these places. 

This is a part of their history as much as the rest of ours. And they deserve the opportunity to learn about their ancestors. How they feel about what they see? Well that's a different story. Frank said that growing up, he never had a doubt about the Holocaust. He knew that it had happened. A viewpoint that was not shared by many of his peers. However, the truth dos not hit home with him until he visited the art exhibit underneath the Franciscan Church. After driving through the night from Hamburg, Frank's tour group arrived on Oswiecim and headed straight to the exhibit. From the exhibit to the camps. An emotional day to say the least. It was then that he told us that, as a soldier. He was very proud to be German and of the constitution they wrote after the Second World War. It was then that something shocking happened, something that may seem small to others. 

Photo Remembrance wall of life before the war, Auschwitz II Birkenau

But I know I will carry it with me always. Frank was speaking of how he felt as he walked through the art exhibition. "Seeing these horrors of what was done to these people. It makes it real for me. I never doubted the holocaust. But now it has become reality." He then broke down and began to cry. The moment was both sad and beautiful within itself. Here is a stranger, someone I have never met. And yet we had such a raw and open conversation. We may have only spoken for a few minutes. But I feel as if he has made a lasting handprint on my life and soul. And I couldn't imagine a more beautiful way to end this experience. This is not 1940. This is not a time for hate. This is 2016, a time for love. And while the world is not perfect. And evil still resides. It is moments like this that give me hope.

Group photo, Krakow

1 Month Later

It has now officially been one month since we touched back down on American soil. During this time, I have not been able to truly express my experiences to anyone outside of those who accompanied me. Whenever posed with the questions of "How was Poland?" or "Did you have fun?" I came up with a near scripted response. "I had a very nice time, thank you" I felt as though most of those asking me were just expecting a one or two sentence answer, and there was absolutely no way that I could condense such an experience into that small a statement, it would be an injustice. Only know have I been able to express myself to others. The other day I was sitting with one of my best friends, and he asked about my trip to Poland and how I was feeling. Without even thinking about it, it was as if a heavy gate opened up and I broke down. I talked for what felt like forever, finally being able to express the inner turmoil and confusion that I had been feeling over the things I had seen. 

When I finished my story, my friend just looked at me in disbelief, and it was then that I realized how insurmountably important what I had just done was. This was the leap forward I took to truly become a witness, the final step that will go with me as long as I live. I educated someone, I left them thinking, questioning. That was why I went to Poland, why I took this course. For that look on my friends face after I answered his question. Since then I have been able to talk to a few others, speaking about what I saw does not get easier with each retelling. But each time I share this knowledge, I am reaffirmed in why God put me in this place. With each word, each sharing of stories, I not only continue to be a witness, but I make others witnesses as well. 

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How? -I Don't Understand. (By: Krissy Bucchi)

As if yesterday wasn’t difficult, today wouldn’t be easier, or would it be? I hoped it would, but how could it? Today we were going to Auschwitz-Birkenau.

The bus pulled up to the camp and we unloaded in front of the main entrance. When Anna, our tour guide, gathered with our group we began walking away from the camp down a muddy path towards railroad tracks that had the remaining cattle cars.

They were wooden, a tiny barred window in the top right side of the car, they were small and about 60-70 people were jammed inside. Innocent people died in the cars, they were suffocated; babies, children, mothers, men, elders. I don’t understand.

I tended to stay in the back of the group, not because I wanted to wait to take a perfect picture or get a good angle with my video camera, but because I needed to be alone. I needed the gap from the group. Anna would gather us to talk and I stood silent in the back; lips trembling, legs shaking, eyes watering, not because it was chilly and slightly windy but because my heart was breaking.

So we walked through the gates of Auschwitz-Birkenau. The large arch beneath the Nazi’s watchtower, the railroad track that split off in three different directions, the barracks, the rubble from destroyed buildings and gas chambers, it was all there.

It was real. This was real. I was actually witnessing history with my own two eyes. The barracks where prisoners slept, the cracks in the floor and on the bottom of the walls where snow came in during the winter, where rodents found there way inside and called it their home too. I don’t understand.

I walked into another barrack. A piece of cement about three feet off the ground with holes in it, the latrines, toilets. 4-6 people to a toilet at a time, and you could only use it twice a day. A cold, skinny, boney, bottom sitting on cement to relieve yourself. I don’t understand.

Block #25, the death block where prisoners were selected and kept to wait inside before sent to the gas chambers. The cries from inside these walls that were heard from the other barracks were haunting. I heard them too.

It was dark inside the barrack. The beds were made of wooden planks that wrapped around the inside walls. There were three levels; the top, the middle, and the ground. The strongest prisoners slept at the top, the weakest on the bottom. The windows were barred shut, there was no escape. I don’t understand.

Another barrack was the washroom. A long narrow sink that extended to either end of the barrack in the middle with a sink on two sides. With a washroom so small for so many people, how could anyone actually feel clean after leaving? With an infestation of head lice in the camps, could a washroom really help? I don’t understand.

We walked further down into the depths of the camp. Anna stopped our group by a picture with some words to talk about it. I felt my mind drifting away and starring at the middle railway track. The track where prisoners were separated from loved ones and sorted into workers or sent to the gas chambers.

My eyes kept staring, my mind kept thinking. I walked away from my group and onto the track. My heart was pounding with each step I took getting closer, but I had to. I had to experience what it felt like to be on the tracks. I bent down and knelt, but it wasn’t enough. My right hand extended out to touch the cold metal track. The track that the cattle cars unloaded millions of prisoners from, I was touching it with my own living flesh. This is where my heart broke.

As my eyes fell several tears and my left arm clenched at my chest, I slowly picked up my head and in the distance saw the Nazi watchtower and the long railway tracks extending towards the outside of the camp. With a lump in my throat, I wiped my face and stood up to join back with my group.

There was a memorial area where one of the gas chambers was destroyed. People left flowers around the memorial, it seemed peaceful in this area.

As I walked around there was another gas chamber that was destroyed. There were steps before it and my group sat down. There was something special about this area of the camp. My classmates got emotional and hid their faces. Instead, I stood up and walked down the stairs towards the barbwire fence.

The air was misty and tall narrow green trees were in the distance. In this moment my mind shifted from listening to the questions and comments in my head, to the nature that surrounded me. I was so consumed with the thoughts in my head that I forgot to listen. But here in the back of the camp, I felt like I could listen again.

It was the sound of the birds. Think of waking up early in the mornings of April to the birds chirping outside your window, that’s what I heard. It was beautiful. It was hope. This is exactly what I needed to hear, it was closure. It warmed my broken heart and it no longer felt heavy to walk the rest of the camp. I cried as I looked between the barbed wire fences to see the birds flying high in the trees. It made me smile for the first time today. That was God.

The remainder of the day spent walking the camps was full of jotting down notes, taking pictures, listening to Anna, and creating memories with my group of classmates. After leaving the camp today I felt light, hopeful, at peace, comforted, and more positive. However, the one question and statement that still is unclear to me: How? –I don’t understand.

How could something like this actually happen? How was any of this allowed to happen? How could someone think this was all acceptable? Even though I have been studying this history, and I knew all of the ‘technical’ answers and understood, I just couldn’t help but still not understand, if that makes sense. I mean, none of this actually makes sense, does it? More questions, that’s enough for today.

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