i.
If you open a map, you will see a web of roads, all leading to Krakow. I can easily see why. The fusion of medieval fairy tale and present-day living is a story filled with vivid hues, a tapestry of cultures, and an insatiable sense of wonder. This city beckons you to come in.
ii.
Krakow brims with places of great importance. Even though slow travel means staying longer in a place, making thoughtful decisions about what to see and why remains crucial.
iii.
I hear of a place where saints, ghosts and demons, each go about their mysterious affairs. Some claim this underworld reaches depths of over 200 kilometres. The legend captivates me until I realise I prefer not to uncover all the hidden secrets in this place, so I only scratch the surface.
iv.
The goal is not to accumulate more knowledge, but to understand what lessons we’ve overlooked from history. ‘Cause each day, we awaken to a world that is extremely disturbing; old war, new war— To what extent can evil and crime thrive?
v.
Beyond the rich artistic life and cocktail drinks, there’s a place both sacred and haunted. A place that both questions and answers. I settle for it.
vi.
My understanding of the holocaust comes from books, movies, and glimpses of archival photographs I once saw at a museum in Cape Town. But “Seeing Auschwitz” or rather the idea of visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau in person is deeply unsettling. That’s why I’m up in the middle of the night, googling what to wear when visiting a concentration and extermination camp. I fuss about showing up appropriately.
vii.
Daring, but not yet brave, I set off to a place of silent contemplation. The sombre bus ride to the memorial site makes me question my choice of places to visit. Then I have a moment of insight: I will not complain about my discomfort; these people endured the most extreme conditions.
viii.
The answer to the question, to what extent can evil and crime thrive, stares back at me. Portraits of men, women and children with names, who were baptised in numbers, hang on the walls. A particular face, Martha’s, a young woman with her chin slightly tilted upwards as she looked straight at the camera, captures my attention. It’s a combination of grace and defiance, acting normal in these abnormal circumstances. It’s almost as if she’s refusing to let her challenges define her or to be seen as a victim. She brings an awareness to the good qualities and values of others around her, even in these dehumanising conditions.
ix.
As I walk through the gas chamber ruins, crematoria, and barracks, I carry Martha’s strength with me. This is neither to minimise their extreme suffering nor accommodate the holocaust, but my way of asset framing. Because in the end, everyone who survived or fell victim to the holocaust, re-emerges as a victor. Even today, we’re still eager to learn about or from them.
x.
Beyond race, class and other social identity markers, we are all human. It shouldn’t be difficult to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes.
xi.
A way of looking at interconnectedness is to see our own reflection in others, witness our humanness, the basic goodness that connects us all. And being interconnected doesn’t mean losing ourselves, because we each have individual strengths, hopes and dreams.
xii.
Beyond the profoundly moving and educational experience, Auschwitz reveals a shocking truth. It’s possible to be involved in genocide without harbouring hatred towards anyone. Think Hedwig in the movie, The Zone of Interest, who dedicates her time tending the garden of their idyllic home right next to the camp, pretending not to hear the gunshots, screams, and the sounds of trains bringing more people!
xiii.
Auschwitz-Birkenau is not a must-see or a place where one visits to pose for selfies. Being confronted with that kind of human suffering is an out-of-body experience. But it is a place everyone should visit, at least once in their lifetime. It is a reminder to view the world through the lens of interconnectedness, the state of being mutually related or connected.
PS. A new post “A Way of Looking at a Mountain” is coming up next Sunday. If you’re new to this series, A Way of Looking at Autumn’s First Breath is a good place to begin.
