I can't say enough how nice the house is that Mischa built in Flatow. I wish my bathroom was as big! Tile floor, a glass shower, and the most inviting deep bathtub I've seen in quite a while. If only I hadn't slept late maybe I could have had a quick dip.
After breakfast, we piled into Florian's van, which seats seven but did not include Florian, who had to work. Mischa, Tina, and the four Herbon travelers drove through the beautiful little town of Kremmem next to Flatow, where we could marvel at the old houses and cobblestone streets. Soon we arrived in Oranienburg, where the Sachsenhausen concentration camp lies on the outskirts of town.
The original concentration camp in this area was located in the middle of Oranienburg, on the grounds of an old brewery. This camp mainly held the political enemies of the newly triumphant Nazi party, who had swept to power in the elections of 1933. This camp was abandoned, and a new camp was built, by prisoner labor, that became Sachsenhausen in 1936.
According to the brochure, more than 200,000 people were imprisoned at the camp between its building in 1936 and its liberation by Soviet and Polish troops in April of 1945. By the time of its liberation, the Nazis had either exterminated or death-marched the prisoners away from the camp to keep them from being freed, leaving only 3,000 who were too sick to move to be found by their liberators. One particularly moving account of the liberation was given by a Polish prisoner in the camp, who threw himself into the arms of the Polish soldier who found him and who happened to be from the same Polish town.
While the camp was not a death camp, like Auschwitz and Dachau, the SS still managed to exterminate quite a few of the camp's inhabitants. Those who were not starved or who did not die of disease could find themselves as unwilling participants in medical experiments, gassed in the camp's small gas chamber (blown up by the East Germans in the early 1950s--but I don't know why), or taken to the "death trench" to be summarily shot and killed. Of course, the ovens worked all day long, burning the corpses. They couldn't run at night as the flames shooting out from the chimney might have attracted Allied bombers--how surreal is that?
From inside the camp kitchen--happy potatoes washing up
As much as the camp tells the story of what occurred there, the curators also include a lot of information about how the present memorial site was conceived and how it came to be. Decisions about what to keep, what to get rid of, how to display artifacts, and what stories to tell are all explained. Like the Jewish museum in Berlin, an emphasis is really placed on telling personal stories.
......
O.K., here I must stop for a minute to explain that, on the couch next to me, Mika and his Schatzie, are having quite a bit of fun with play power tools.
......
Anyway, several things about the camp memorial really stood out. As you approach the entrance to the actual camp, there is a wooded area in which various family and/or groups have placed memorials to persons or people who perished in the camp. Unfortunately, a sound system has been installed, making it seem as though other-worldly souls were speaking from under their memorials.
Somehow, this cross that fell out of its
granite is very moving
Many nations and groups have left floral wreaths with big ribbons to mark various sites within the camp. The largest collection of these wreaths lies in front of Station Z--the last stop for many prisoners and the location of the "death trench," gas chamber, and ovens. It seems as though most nations in Europe were represented, many more than once, but I only found one from the U.S.A.
Strange thing about visiting Station Z: while seated on a "bench," our little party, along with other tourists, was scolded by an English-speaking tour guide. Apparently, the "bench" was actually a marker over the cremains of some of those killed in the camp. Hey, lady, if you don't want people sitting on the ashes, don't make their marker in the former of a bench (I didn't say this, but some other man said something to this effect, and scolded the tour guide right back).
Strange thing about visiting Station Z: while seated on a "bench," our little party, along with other tourists, was scolded by an English-speaking tour guide. Apparently, the "bench" was actually a marker over the cremains of some of those killed in the camp. Hey, lady, if you don't want people sitting on the ashes, don't make their marker in the former of a bench (I didn't say this, but some other man said something to this effect, and scolded the tour guide right back).
The Jews imprisoned at Sachsenhausen appeared to have been kept separate from the other prisoners. One of their special barracks remains, with an exhibit about the Jewish experience at the camp. As moving as it is, efforts to honor the others murdered at the camp are just as compelling. There is a section devoted to the homosexuals interred and killed, as well as several examples of Jehovah's Witnesses who found themselves enemies of the Nazi state.
There is so much more to learn about the camp, right? It is important to know as much as possible, right? I must be able to teach my daughters about it, right? Yes, and that's how I justified buying a book, when I have an iron-clad book-purchasing embargo on this trip.
The death trench
Mischa, Tina, and Reiner
Selfie for Heidi and her mom
After the camp, we were all tired, hungry, and thirsty. Mischa and Tina had kindly stocked the van with water and juice, but harder liquids were called for. They took us to a "Mexican" restaurant, which turned out to be more of a German version of Spanish-Mexican-South American-Cuban food. Nachos are chips with cheese melted on top, with a side plate that contains little pots of salsa, sour cream, and guacamole. My carne tacos came with onions and bell peppers, huge chunks of beef, and melted cheese stuffed into crispy shells that broke upon contact. As I try to roll along with new things, I ate my tacos with a fork, a first for me. They also came with fries, which reminds me of having lunch with Princess Brenda at Del Taco.
Nachos?
Now we are back at Petra's. The girls went to a nearby shop, and we now have a gift to bring home to a certain nephew of mine. They then went out again, this time with Reiner and Sascha, to buy presents for the two little boys of Berlin who have completely enchanted us. Tomorrow the plan is to visit the Reichstag and then to spend the afternoon and evening with Onkle Werner and Tante Cissy.
Two things that I forgot to mention from yesterday: the trip with Mischa on the autobahn saw speeds of 110 m.p.h. (pretty damned exciting); and Mischa took us past the house in the Charlottenburg area of Berlin in which Reiner lived with his brother and parents before they came to the U.S. Cool!
I'm closing now to read my new book while Petra talks on the phone and Mika watches Chuggington on television. Just a night in beautiful Berlin...
As dark as the past may be, we must never forget.
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