Visiting Dachau...

[windinthemaples]

Our ten days in northern Italy and Germany were, by and large, not very eventful. We mainly shared the day-to-day joys of living with Daniel's brother and his family--sharing homemade meals and strolling through cobblestone streets in the warm slanting afternoon light. I indulged in long afternoon naps and had gelato at least once (if not twice) a day. At some point I will sort through our family photos and cobble together a sort of travel report to account for those days and share some of their beauty. In the meantime, though, I wanted to jump to the end of the trip when we had a few days in Germany to ourselves and I was able to make the day's agenda. Saturday, we spent the day at Dachau, the Nazis' first, though not most notorious, concentration camp.



I grew up in a racially and religiously homogeneous Midwestern town. I knew nobody from another country, who spoke another language, or who worshiped outside of the Christian faith. My elementary school had one black family and, to my recollection, nobody of any Asian or Hispanic descent. It was my norm. We moved to the Southeast coast of Florida when I was ten and the world literally opened up. I had entered a world of color and language and culture and religion. There was so much diversity in the world and it was my first real sense of being part of it. One of the most striking experiences was that we'd moved to a place with one of the highest Jewish populations in the US. When we learned about the Holocaust in school, we heard it from survivors whose grandchildren and great grandchildren I played with on the playground. There was an immediacy to their stories. There was an urgency for me to hang on their every word. I pursued history in college because I wanted to know (and help record and distribute) the stories of the minorities in history. Not whoever was riding the tide of power and popularity at the time of events but those voiceless at the bottom, the stories from the other side.

I needed to go to Dachau, to see and experience it for myself, and so we did. Going, though necessary, has made the trip to Europe as a whole, almost impossible to talk about.




Graeme took this photo. You can see the foundations of the long barracks, the trees lining the camp road, and some of the reconstructed example barracks near the back.


Graeme's photo of the Catholic faith chapel on the site.


The main gate into the camp.


The beautiful woodland surrounding the hidden crematorium and gassing chamber.





To the left is the Bunker, the main building where new prisoners were processed and bathed and had all their personal belongings confiscated. Many were also tortured (and killed) inside its walls. Today, the museum exhibits are housed inside the restored building.


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This entry has been open on my computer since I came back over a week ago. I still don't know what to say but I can't get past it until I've said something. So here it is.

Comments

[radshaun.livejournal.com]

I don't think there's anything to say. I think remembering is perfect.

[kehleyr.livejournal.com]

Yeah I agree with this!

[tapati.livejournal.com]

I agree.

I was just reading about the Freedom Fighters today and musing about the whole situation--brave young people going to the South, risking great violence and death, exemplifying the best of humanity, while facing the KKK, institutionalized racism with sheriffs and other law enforcement, judges, courts all aligned against them, exemplifying the worst of humanity. What a contradictory and complex species we are!

There were camps. And there were people who risked their lives to hide their neighbors and townspeople, or risked their lives actively to fight this. Perhaps never enough but that's really the most difficult thing, to ask one to risk one's life for others. Of course there will be less of those than of the cowardly people who go along with evil to save themselves.

[shveta-thakrar.livejournal.com]

I did my M.A. in German literature, so as you can imagine, there was a lot of discussion about the Holocaust (and other atrocities currently taking place). It broke my heart. I'm always blown away by our collective capacity to do horrible things in the name of the latest political agenda and our equally amazing ability to sacrifice and show love and compassion--at the same time.

I pursued history in college because I wanted to know (and help record and distribute) the stories of the minorities in history. Not whoever was riding the tide of power and popularity at the time of events but those voiceless at the bottom, the stories from the other side.

I wish more people thought like this.

[neva-butterfly.livejournal.com]

Thanks for posting the pictures. I think it's important to remember this and remember it in the context that it might be one of the more organized efforts at genocide, but it isn't isolated.

What's amazing to me is that the stakes in standing up in those situations were amazingly high--imprisonment, slavery, death... And yet people did stand up. The stakes now for standing up for what's right are much less--having someone no like you? And yet we'll still be judged by history for our institutionalized racism and homophobia...

[aerialmelodies.livejournal.com]

I went to Dachau when I was in Germany... it's such a somber feeling to walk those same floors knowing what happened there. I am glad the Germans quit tearing it down and turned it in a museum and hope it teaches us where humans wind up at their lowest point and that we should never go there again.

[lenaperry.livejournal.com]

There's a real honesty to those pictures. And such beauty where such evil happened - that woodland picture is really evocative for me. Thank you so much for sharing. <3

[wldhrsjen3.livejournal.com]

*love to you* That's all.