Tell my story

Hello again,
The last few days have been quite the whirlwind. I was sad to leave Warsaw on Friday- it was so beautiful!
Yesterday, we drove to Lublin, Poland, which was home to a Jewish quarter. Lublin is a smaller, more quaint town than Warsaw, and not nearly as many people who speak english. Also, the concentration camp Majdanek is only 10 minutes from Lublin.

I've learned quite a lot about the reality of concentration camps thus far (and we still have several to go). One thing I always thought was morbidly interesting was the medical experimentation at the camps, but those really weren't widespread at all. The gas chambers were also only at a few camps as well.

The camp was pretty close to what you'd imagine. We have been plagued with a heat wave- in the 90s every day- I can't imagine bring enslaved there, without food to speak of and being so dehumanized. What a will to live these people must have had!

This camp is only about 10 minutes from a large city. It had several large crematoria, and when the wind blew, ashes from the crematoria chimneys could be blow into the town and the homes.
Interestingly, I've noticed that you never hear Jews complaining now about life then. All they wanted was freedom from slavery and persecution, and have since displayed resilience and faith. I think we can learn a lot from from their strength.

Today's title is a really poignant story. While in Warsaw, we visited the only synagogue to survive the war. While there, an elderly lady and daughter walked up and began speaking to our tour guide, who is Polish. It turned out, she was Polish and this had been where she'd attended synagogue. One of our members spoke with her and asked to take her picture, and a picture of her numbers tattooed on her arm. Although she didn't speak much english, she did manage to communicate to him that with the picture, she hoped we would tell their stories..



-damaged buildings in Lublin

Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Rynek Wielki,Zamosc,Poland