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The Saint of Auschwitz:
The woman on the bottom I met in a tour of Auschwitz a few years back, taken with a friend. When she first got on the bus there from Kracow and tried to sit next to me, I was very mean to her. She sounded German, and going where I was, I was developing a hatred for Germans - not the lesson of Auschwitz. I shooshed her away and she sat by herself
Auschwitz is divided into 2 camps, Auschwitz 1 and Birkenau - the killing center. Auschwitz 1 was the workers camp, the prisoners fed a diet designed to kill them of starvation and disease after a few months of work - and there was a gas chamber used for punishments. At the end of the first camp's tour, which was in that gas chamber with a fine guide who made you feel like you were there as a prisoner, I felt nothing but intense irritation, no grief, sadness - nothing - but a desire to flee. And I did. Leaving there and having a coffee in the rest area where all soon came to wait for the bus to take us on a short ride to Birkenau.
My friend told me on the break, that the "German" woman wasn't German, she was Polish, and her mother was killed here and this was her first time here. I felt horrible - and when the bus let us out at Birkenau told her as best I could with the language barrier I had heard about her mother and was very sorry. She said 'My mother...and father" - and then she paused and held up 6 fingers - "and all these people". Her entire family had been killed here; but she had no bitterness, hatred or self-pity. She just looked at the vast, vast remains of the camp (it is kept the way it was in '45), so vast you cannot see the end - and motioned to it. "Ahhhhh, so much death".
During the whole tour, she would listen at each place we were taken, after a little, move a short distance from us, take out her hanky and softly weep. Then she'd return. The guide was very aware of her, but let her be. This was a ritual first time visit to finally meet and leave the horrid past. The guide was well-used to former prisoners and the families of the exterminated when they finally came here.
At the end, we were up in the famous main guard tower of Birkenau, seen in the famous photos of the railroad tracks entering the camp with the tower above it. I took few photos anyplace, it seemed sacrilegious. I asked her while in the tower if she had taken any. She was too poor to have a camera she said, and asked if I could send copies of any of my pictures to her - and of course I said I would. She then wanted me to take one more photo - of her. She took time to position herself. Right in front of this big- now glassless - window - she stood there and behind her, through the window, was just visible the ruins of the crematoria - though you can't see it in my photo.
I read something once: "The crematoria at Auschwitz is the center of the suffering of the Universe"
So, I asked her after why she wanted a shot of herself, here, in this place. She said simply:
"I wanted a picture of myself in front of the graves of my family"
On the ride back, she was lovely, for example very grateful at the work done on the brochures by those who ran the camp, showing me, smiling and happy, different parts of it , telling me how grateful and happy she was for my sending my photos. She was everything loving under the weight of an impossible past - and she taught me a great lesson: in the middle of depravity and cruelty so base it cannot fit language - She will always be there - or someone like her. Her name is humanity.
I did nothing to these few photos after but crop one. They're not about photography. They're just raw film. Hers is my favorite one. I will never forget her. She is one of the few Saints I have met in my life.
The Saint of Auschwitz.
Auschwitz is divided into 2 camps, Auschwitz 1 and Birkenau - the killing center. Auschwitz 1 was the workers camp, the prisoners fed a diet designed to kill them of starvation and disease after a few months of work - and there was a gas chamber used for punishments. At the end of the first camp's tour, which was in that gas chamber with a fine guide who made you feel like you were there as a prisoner, I felt nothing but intense irritation, no grief, sadness - nothing - but a desire to flee. And I did. Leaving there and having a coffee in the rest area where all soon came to wait for the bus to take us on a short ride to Birkenau.
My friend told me on the break, that the "German" woman wasn't German, she was Polish, and her mother was killed here and this was her first time here. I felt horrible - and when the bus let us out at Birkenau told her as best I could with the language barrier I had heard about her mother and was very sorry. She said 'My mother...and father" - and then she paused and held up 6 fingers - "and all these people". Her entire family had been killed here; but she had no bitterness, hatred or self-pity. She just looked at the vast, vast remains of the camp (it is kept the way it was in '45), so vast you cannot see the end - and motioned to it. "Ahhhhh, so much death".
During the whole tour, she would listen at each place we were taken, after a little, move a short distance from us, take out her hanky and softly weep. Then she'd return. The guide was very aware of her, but let her be. This was a ritual first time visit to finally meet and leave the horrid past. The guide was well-used to former prisoners and the families of the exterminated when they finally came here.
At the end, we were up in the famous main guard tower of Birkenau, seen in the famous photos of the railroad tracks entering the camp with the tower above it. I took few photos anyplace, it seemed sacrilegious. I asked her while in the tower if she had taken any. She was too poor to have a camera she said, and asked if I could send copies of any of my pictures to her - and of course I said I would. She then wanted me to take one more photo - of her. She took time to position herself. Right in front of this big- now glassless - window - she stood there and behind her, through the window, was just visible the ruins of the crematoria - though you can't see it in my photo.
I read something once: "The crematoria at Auschwitz is the center of the suffering of the Universe"
So, I asked her after why she wanted a shot of herself, here, in this place. She said simply:
"I wanted a picture of myself in front of the graves of my family"
On the ride back, she was lovely, for example very grateful at the work done on the brochures by those who ran the camp, showing me, smiling and happy, different parts of it , telling me how grateful and happy she was for my sending my photos. She was everything loving under the weight of an impossible past - and she taught me a great lesson: in the middle of depravity and cruelty so base it cannot fit language - She will always be there - or someone like her. Her name is humanity.
I did nothing to these few photos after but crop one. They're not about photography. They're just raw film. Hers is my favorite one. I will never forget her. She is one of the few Saints I have met in my life.
The Saint of Auschwitz.
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