motlaus2011

[motlaus2011]

During WWII, Irena Sendler, got permission to work in the Warsaw ghetto, as a Plumbing/Sewer specialist. She had an ulterior motive.

Irena smuggled Jewish infants out in the bottom of the tool box she carried. She also carried a burlap sack in the back of her truck, for larger kids.

Irena kept a dog in the back that she trained to bark when the Nazi soldiers let her in and out of the ghetto.

The soldiers, of course, wanted nothing to do with the dog and the barking covered the kids/infants noises.

During her time of doing this, she managed to smuggle out and save 2500 kids/infants.

Ultimately, she was caught, however, and the Nazi’s broke both of her legs and arms and beat her severely.

Irena kept a record of the names of all the kids she had smuggled out, in a glass jar that she buried under a tree in her back yard.

After the war, she tried to locate any parents that may have survived and tried to reunite the families.

Most had been gassed. Those kids she helped got placed into foster family homes or adopted.

In 2007 Irena was up for the Nobel Peace Prize. She was not selected. Al Gore won, for a slide show on Global Warming. 

Later another politician, Barack Obama, won for his work as a community organizer for ACORN.

In MEMORIAL - 65 YEARS LATER

[motlaus2011]

walking through majdanek

[motlaus2011]

So, as we march today, thousands from around the world. Young and old. Jews and people of good will, from many cultures and religions. Let us join hands with the survivors and pledge to them. We will always remember your stories, your pain and your suffering and we will pass the lessons you so bravely taught us to the next generations. And let us also pledge to them that we will build a better world for all of humanity. So that no nation, no people should ever have an Auschwitz, a Majdanek or a Treblinka built for their annihilation.

(via walkingintothewoods)

[motlaus2011]

How many people before me.

How many people before me

Walked the paths I just did?

How many people before me

Touched the cracks I just did?

  How many people before me

Saw the watchtowers I just did?

How many people before me

Gripped the barbed wire I just did?

  How many people before me

Saw flowers in bloom like I just did?

How many people before me

Stood arm in arm like I just did?

  How many people before me

Looked out to the city like I just did?

How many people before me

Walked into the barracks like I just did?

  How many people before me

Heard the gravel underfoot like I just did?

How many people before me

Longed for warmth like I just did?

  How many people before me

Walked in like I just did?

But how many people before me

Freely walked out like I just did?

[motlaus2011]

Auschwitz.

Photos by Emmanuel Santos and Me

[motlaus2011]

Day 5- 2nd of May 2011- Yom Ha'shoah

AUSCHWITZ

Even saying the word now sends shivers down my spine. So many images come through my head when i think of this day, the day our trip had been built up to, the day that gives our trip its namesake.

It was an eerie feeling waking up that monday morning, knowing where i was heading and knowing that on this day my friends back in australia were heading back to school for the first day of term 2. We put on our white MOTL tops, our flags were packed and we were ready for the day ahead of us.

Our day started in Oswiecim, at a shule that has now been converted into a museum. Here we were, about 10minute drive from Auschwitz I in a shule and it seemed like too odd a concept for me. We davened shacharit and looked around the museum depicting life in oswiecim before the war. 

And then we arrived. Arrived in Auschwitz I. It was surreal. We started in the crematoria and the gas chambers. The blue stains and the ovens contradicted the memorials and the flowers. 

We wandered through the barracks set up as museums. Quotes, maps and statistics flashed before our eyes. Hair, glasses, prosthetic limbs, suitcases, shaving equipment, tefilinim, talitot, pots and pans, shoes filled large glass cabinets. It truly made you realise the number, the number of people to whom these artifacts belonged to. 

I was standing staring at the hair case, looking at the blonde ringlets that looked like they were cut off an innocent little girl's head, at the frizzy mop of brunette hair similar to mine, when the girl next to me fainted. it was all too much for her. never have i felt like i did then. a realisation swept over me but it was mixed with panic. In retrospect, that moment, that girl whom i had never met in my life, made me realise what it was like to see and feel the person next to you fall to the floor. Suddenly i was taken back to the death marches, to see the person beside you drop dead. yes, i knew she had just simply fainted, but it meant that much more.

I continued to walk on through the museums. i stopped at a famous photograph. A photograph of Eva Slonim, the grandmother of a girl in my year. I had never met this woman nor was i such good friends with her granddaughter but i felt connected. There in a museum in Auschwitz, covering an entire wall was a childhood photograph of a member of the Melbourne Jewish Community, a member of our Scopus community. 

We gathered outside in this beautiful sunny day but as I looked up at small fluffy clouds in the sky, i saw underneath them barbed wire and watchtowers. We wrote out signposts to stick in the gravel. We were given our signs and we joined the back of the sea of people.

My Australian and Israeli flags billowed behind me. The survivours and their families lined up at the front and we followed in rows behind them. We linked arms and never in my life had i felt more connected to a group of people in my life. We marched under the infamous sign, Arbeit Macht Frei and out of the gates. 

We were silent. All of us looked ahead, at the train tracks to our left, looking into the future. The only sounds were our footsteps. Then all of a sudden, a hum started to build. Lauren to my right started humming Acheinu. A soft gentle hum of a song about standing together as a nation and brotherhood. That then and there was one of the few ways i have ever felt song to be so important instead of silence. 

And then, there in front of us were the gates and the watchtower. The tracks ran directly down the middle and in the gravel between each small track were the signs we wrote on. In numerous languages, were messages of peace and hope and the words "Never Again".

We marched underneath the archway and there, spanning for miles was Birkenau. The next few hours seemed like a blur to me. There i stood in Auschwitz-Birkenau with thousands of other jews from around the world, the place were my grandparents spent torturous weeks of their lives, the place we millions perished. it was surreal. The tekes (טקס) and the atmosphere didnt seem like they fitted in with where we were. To conclude, we all rose and said Kaddish and then sang Hatikva. Never in any moment of my life had a felt more connected to my jewish nation. 

Afterwards, we had our own mini ceremony with the south africans. Testimonies were shared, poems read, songs sung. We sat on the grass that sprouted with yellow flowers. The blue sky was dabbled with clouds. It didn't seem like the right setting for this tekes. But wasn't Auschwitz, a place a annihilation the setting in itself?

We continued on marching, truly taking in the enormity of this camp. i dont even think enormity describes it well enough. I didnt fully tour our next site, Kanada. I couldnt. I needed to be outside, amidst the barracks and the barbed wired. I surveyed where i was and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to take myself back 60 odd years to who stood in this exact spot before me. What was his/her name? How old? How long had they been in this hell?

The sun was setting behind us and a chill was coming. We started to leave and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Georgia, a girl from sydney, take a candle and a box of matches out of her bag and light it. I asked if i could light a candle too. The both of us stood there for a moment, watching the flames flicker in the breeze and a gust of wind come and blow them both out. We did not relight them, they stayed there, in that spot, unlit. 

Something came over me as i was leaving and i broke down in tears. They wouldn't stop. I thought about my Omi and my Zaidas, about their lives up until they passed away. I thought about my Nanna, what she must have gone through and what she continues to face everyday living in Australia, taunted by memories. I thought about how this point was a pinnacle in my life, it made me realise that i had come on this program for a reason, and this is what i always had wanted to do.

That bus ride from Auschwitz to the mess hall in krakow is a memorable moment in my trip. As always, there was the open mic policy. The things that were said are still with me today.

There is something about this day that to me seems unfinished. A thirst for more. more emotions, more pain, more sites. Life is a funny thing, it changes you and day by day we see this.

This day, May 2nd 2011, has changed me forever. I marched because I was living. I marched to show that my family survived...and a part of me marched for those relatives who didnt. I marched because i am an alive, proud jew.

[motlaus2011]

[motlaus2011]

[motlaus2011]

[motlaus2011]

Day 4- 1st of May 2011

MAJDANEK

Majdanek. It spans 2.7 square kilometres.It has nineteen watchtowers. Seven gas chambers. Soviet prisoners of war, Polish prisoners, farmers and Jews arrived and 320,000 of them were never freed. Liberation occurred on the 22nd of July 1944.

 The day we went to Majdanek was our first taste of true Poland weather. The rain started to come down as soon as we got off the bus and we piled on the layers.

 As we walked in, the giant infamous stone sculpture caught our vision and in the distance the grass spanned for miles. We climbed the steps taking in our surroundings of this death camp, our first camp of the trip. We all had mixed emotions. There was disbelief of the fact that we were actually there in Majdanek, there was the feeling of cold and of shock.

We all gathered underneath the stone sculpture and sat and listened to the educators talk about Majdanek and its significance. We sat there in the dark and cold for what seemed like hours but in retrospect was only about five minutes. We sat there for five minutes but imagine how long those people were trapped inside. As we got up and walked down the stairs we saw the enormity of the camp. It seemed like it never stopped. We walked in pairs or in groups because we felt alone and vulnerable without each other.

After wandering down this long path we entered the gas chambers. The room encapsulated us. We felt enclosed and trapped. The blue stains on the walls, the vicious scratches that ran down the walls, the wrought iron window made for the guards all caught our attention. We stood in silence the only noises were the sounds of our breath and the sounds of tears. One thought came through our heads. Here we stood in this gas chamber taking in life and breathing methodically whereas the people who entered here took their last breaths.

We exited and we felt changed. We weaved our way in and out of barracks set up like museums explaining the history of Majdanek and every step carried a story. We entered the shoe barrack and were greeted with millions of pairs of shoes. Black, brown and grey shoes were stuffed in like humans in cattle cars. Colours caught your eyes. Bright red shoes seemed to sparkle, white shoes glistened in the light and somehow in the midst of all of those normal shoes there was a hope for survival.

Each foot stepped in time with the other. We all walked to a rhythm down the long and winding pathway that led straight from the barracks to the crematorium. The dark filled every corner and we all felt numb. We drifted through the crematorium, an experience that is simply indescribable.

It is hard to believe the proximity of the camp to the nearby town of Lublin. From the camp itself, you have a clear vision of colourful apartment blocks and city life. Imagine that, waking up every day and opening your windows to the smell of burning flesh from the nearby camp.

At the back of the camp were three lush green pits of grass. But as we approached we realized what it was. Three gigantic mass graves. It was as if we could smell the decaying bodies and see the fragile bones buried deep in the soil.

We assembled together on the steps, comforting each other and taking in where we were. We silently marched out the gates, unlike so many before us, but we were filled with emotions of hope and survival. Places like Majdanek make you feel things you never new existed.

320,000 people never walked out those gates. But 46 proud Australians from Melbourne, Sydney, Perth and the Gold Coast marched freely out.

[motlaus2011]

Oyfn Pripertchick

Oyfn pripetchik brent a fayerl, un in shtub is heys. Un der rebe lernt kleyne kinderlekh dem alef-beyz. Zet zhe kinderlekh, gedenkt zhe, tayere, vos ir lernt do. Zogt zhe nokh a mol un take nokh a mol: "Komets-alef: o!" Lernt kinderlekh, lernt mit freyd, lernt dem alef-beyz. Gliklekh is der Yid, wos kent die toyre un dos alef-beyz

John and I singing Oyfn Priperchick in Lublin Yeshiva.

[motlaus2011]

Day 2/3-29th/30th of April 2011

WARSAW-SHABBAT

Shabbat in Poland was such an odd concept to me. Because of our manic day in Lodz, we ran into the hall and lit the candles and then quickly got ready. That Friday Night Minyan was one i'll never forget. Jordi and I sang loudly and proudly and sang along to Rabbi Paul. Dinner that night was special. We talked, we ate, we sang. We talked philosophically, about life, about our existence. 

Shabbat morning we walked to the shule. An existing shule in Warsaw. just seemed bizarre to me because i think of Jewish life in Poland to be non-existant now, even though i had met the Chief Rabbi of Poland, Rabbi Schudrich twice before this day. Yet in this shule in the middle of urban warsaw, it thrived with young jewish life in the form of Australian, American and Canadian MOTL participants. Lauren and I got talking to some girls from Canada, talking and comparing Jewish life in our respective countries. One of the most beautiful and uniting moments i have ever seen came in the form of an israeli flag. We all were standing singing עושה שלום and some American or Canadians sitting up in the balcony of the shule held down their israeli flag. such a simple gesture had such an impact on me. Their i stood in a shule in warsaw, on my right a close friend from sydney and to my left a girl i had just met from montreal. 

We then walked back to the hotel for lunch with Rabbi Shudrich and some jewish teens from warsaw. it was so interesting to talk to them about jewish life in poland. suddenly, voices were heard and the south africans had arrived, ready to do peulot with us. the programs were fun and something new. a customary shabbas walk was in order and around warsaw we went. i talked in hebrew with the israeli girl with us for the day and saw the true beauty of warsaw today. we saw castles, squares, marketplaces and life and culture boomed. that was the point were danna and i became so close and we talked the whole way back. Our tish and seudah shlishit once we were back  were nice and chilled. we sang songs and laughed, coming back to the reality that was poland and away from the serenity of shabbat. 

that night on the other hand, was one of the funniest memories of motl. jordi and i completely nuts and singing at the top of our lungs and dancing to jai ho. that night was a great one, one that'll forever be ingrained in my mind.

[motlaus2011]

Excerpts from my Nanna's testimony I read whilst in Lodz

Here I stand in Lodz, the place where my Nanna, Krysia and the rest of the Fuks family lived for many years. Today, Nanna remains as my only living grandparent. During all of my life, my Nanna has always said that her story is not important and not special. But as the third generation, the candlelight generation I believe that every story, no matter the story and every detail of that story is important for future generations.

I am standing here in Lodz, as Nanna’s youngest grandchild and it is somehow fitting that my Nanna like me was the youngest of three sisters, who managed stay together throughout the atrocities of Holocaust. I am now continuing the legacy that began with my two older sisters who also have been on this journey. It is imperative that this legacy, no matter how seemingly unimportant one thinks it could be, is to be continued and continued and continued for future generations. 

[motlaus2011]

Lodz

[motlaus2011]

Day 2-29th of April 2011

LODZ

Lodz seemed like a city that looks tired but still bustles with people. Lodz was the home to two of our survivors and not only did we hear their stories, we saw them. We saw the apartment that Esther grew up in, we saw the balcony on which Abe did a handstand in front of the whole street and we saw the courtyard in which he played. We wondered the streets all marked ‘Litzmandstadt Ghetto’ tracing the ghetto walls. These streets carried the weight of our soles and the weight of so many others like us. The wall at Radegast train station was a timeline finally leading to big stone sculptures of graves with the names of those treacherous extermination camps. Radegast was a surreal experience. The sign “Attention! Train caught my sight and I couldn’t help but stare. There in front of us and just in front of that sign was a cattle car. There was something so unearthly about standing in that cattle car. To touch the wooden walls that thousands of people leaned upon, to look through the tiny peepholes that thousands of Jewish people gazed through, longing to escape. The air inside was thick, hot and was hard to breathe. We tried to imagine what the air inside would have been like with one hundred people crammed like sardines instead of simply forty-seven. It was a chilling feeling to see the car that rode those tracks too many times, to see the barbed wire cover the windows. The tracks led into a tunnel that listed the citizens of Lodz and their deportation dates. We looked at the thousands of names meticulously copied out by the Germans and seeing the same names repeatedly sent shivers down our spines. The end of the tunnel led into sunlight, a symbol of hope.

[motlaus2011]

Revolutions.

I originally wrote this poem about Warsaw in hebrew but have translated it. This poem was published in the Australian Hebrew Newspaper.

Here I stood in Mila 18, the house of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.

Here I stood at the base of all of the youth movements and their ideologies in my Hineni chultzah.

Here I stood in the place in which all of the important decisions were made.

Here I stood and said the last speech of Mordchai Anelewicz, the leader of the revolution.

Here I stood in the streets where hundreds of Jews marched and fought.

Here I stood and though about all of the men and women that fought for their religion and their rights to live.

Here I stood in the city that was destroyed by the Jewish revolution.

Here I stood in the place that Jews protested against their oppressors.

Here I stood next to the ghetto walls that over them bombs were thrown.

Here I stood and thought about the courage and strength of the Ghetto Fighters.

Here I stood in the place where the fighters were murdered whilst they were fighting for their survival and freedom.

Here I stood in the country, the city, the place where the Jews of the Warsaw ghetto fought in a revolution that changed the face of the Holocaust.

[motlaus2011]

heyolive:

Genscha Cemetery - Warsaw, Poland

It is an unbelievable cemetery - graves dating back hundreds of years, large elaborate monuments. 

Walking through the cemetery was haunting…