THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, July 8, 1994 TAG: 9407080086
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E11 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY LEAH FRIEDMAN, HIGH SCHOOL CORRESPONDENT
LENGTH: Long : 113 lines
I CANNOT REMEMBER when I learned of the Holocaust - it seems like innate knowledge.
I've always been curious about the period when Adolf Hitler decided to rid the world of Jews. So when offered the chance to touch what so many of my people had gone through, I took it. This chance was the March of the Living, a two-week trip to Poland and Israel, death and life, sorrow and happiness.
I left in early April along with Herb Eilberg, Ari Maizel, and Ellisha Greenhood, three members of the Tidewater area B'nai B'rith Youth Organization.
At the Baltimore-Washington airport, we joined 300 BBYO'ers from around the nation. My clique of four huddled closely. We spent five hours in the airport. Another nine hours on the plane to Poland practically made the 300 of us family.
We landed in Warsaw on a rainy, dark, cold Wednesday night. Our group collected our luggage under the supervisory eyes of men with green berets and machine guns.I wonderedif this was what it was like for Jews 50 years ago when they departed the cattle cars: mass confusion, tons of luggage and armed men watching their every move.
The next day, Yom HaShoah, a day of remembrance for the Holocaust, was the day of the March of the Living. On that day it snowed. The March was a 2-mile walk from Auschwitz I to Auschwitz II, also called Birkenau.
In the compound of Auschwitz I, my group of teenagers joined 6,000 others from 35 countries who would march for the 6 million Jews slaughtered by the Nazis. We lined up according to countries and walked six across, arm in arm, to represent the 6 million Jews. I was overwhelmed by the fact that I, Leah Rebecca Friedman, 4-foot 10-inches, represented 1 million Jews.
When we walked out of the Auschwitz gate that reads ``Arbeit Macht Frei,'' (work makes you free) I changed from a girl of 17 to a woman with immense pride in her religion.
The cold whip of the wind at our faces and the sound of shoes hitting the pavement were the only sounds. By the time we reached Birkenau, the snow stopped and the sun came out. We held a ceremony on top of the rubble that had once been gas chambers.
Afterwards, we toured Auschwitz with three survivors as guides.
My group's survivor was Etka Goldenberg. She hated the Poles because of their silence 50 years ago, and for what they have done with the camps today. Auschwitz I is now a museum run by the Polish government. A hot dog stand and souvenir shop are located at the entrance.
Relics are kept behind glass. As we stood in front of the glass that encased thousands of talissim, or prayer shawls, Etka started crying. She wondered if buried in there somewhere could be the tallit of her grandfather or father.
Auschwitz I was the first camp to exterminate prisoners in gas chambers. The chamber entrance is on a downward slope so the guards could easily push masses of Jews inside.
Inside I saw the scratches on the wall from the prisoners who tried to climb above the mass of people. I looked up at the ceiling and I could see the chute where the Zyklon B was released.
I could feel the walls closing in on me and the oxygen leaving the room. I wanted to run, but I had to stay. I had to witness the past to protect the future.
Birkenau was more realistic. The barracks resemble barns. Each had two non-functional chimneys; a block of cement down the middle with holes that served as toilets; and bunk beds, which were slabs of wood that each held nine people.
The exit was very muddy and slippery. I came out with survivor Sam Siegel. We were holding on to each other for balance. He turned to me and asked, ``Could you imagine walking on this barefoot? Once you fell, that was it. The Nazis shot you.'' His job in Auschwitz was to take a brick from one side of the street to the other and back again until he was ordered to stop.
The next camp, Majdanek, was even more realistic. Majdanek looks as if it were in use yesterday. Shoes cover the floor of one of the barracks. Clothes once used by the prisoners lie on the beds. Canisters of Zyklon B are stacked to the ceiling. But by far the most remarkable feature of Majdanek is its dome filled with 17 tons of human ash.
After a long week in Poland, we traveled to Israel. The change of atmosphere was amazing. When we arrived in Poland, people greeted us coldly and with hostility, some even mocking the salute of the Third Reich. In Israel people were cheering for us as if we were heroes. I was hugging and kissing people I had never seen before, but felt I had known all my life.
People say that when a Jew visits Israel there is an immediate sense of ``home.'' I wrote in my diary, ``Home is a scary and unfamiliar place now that I have been to my real home.'' I called my parents to say I was not coming back.
In the Holy Land, we traveled to the Western Wall. I tucked my tiny, white paper prayer among the millions of others in the wall. I prayed that I could heal all of my hates; I had witnessed the ultimate outcome of hatred.
We observed Yom HaZikaron, the somber Israeli memorial day for those who died defending their country. After a day of mourning, we danced the night away on Ben Yehuda Street celebrating Yom Ha'Atzmaut , the Israeli Independence Day.
I cried the whole way home while questions whirled in my head. What would it be like when I got home? Would people understand what I had experienced? We practiced responding to friends and family upon returning, but would that really prepare me?
Fortunately, my friends, family and teachers wanted to hear about the trip. Some people out of routine asked if I had fun in Poland. I just said, ``No.''
In a recent survey, 10 percent said that it was possible that the Holocaust never happened. This is frightening because the people who have first-hand knowledge of the Holocaust are dying. Who knows how the number will grow when the survivors are gone?
Etka kept telling us, ``I never want you to have to experience what I did, but please, for me, remember what happened. Make others remember as well.''
The camps still stand. Bones still remain. My generation needs to keep the memory of the 6 million alive. Hopefully awareness of the past will prevent future Holocausts based on ethnic hatred. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
Leah Friedman is a rising senior at Cox High School in Virginia
Beach.
by CNB