Dachau: "Remember how we died here."

I should have probably written this post a long time ago, but I needed time to reflect on what I saw, felt, and heard. I needed to put my thoughts together to give justice to my experiences and respectfully find the right words to say. That is why, over two weeks later, I am finally sitting down to form a few paragraphs that probably can't even begin to fully describe the magnitude of what one experiences when they visit the Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial in Dachau, Germany, just 11 kilometers outside of the center of Munich.

Before I recap the day, however, I would to state of overarching realization that hit me that day, and I need to do so by quoting Harry Potter. Before you judge me for comparing two things that seem quite unrelated, think about both. Think about history, think about the stories. One can make some connections, albeit not on a large scale. In Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, when Harry goes into Olivander's shop to buy his wand for school, Olivander hands him three wands, the last of which becomes Harry's. Olivander the proceeds to tell Harry that the wand has a twin that belongs to Voldemort, who...well, most of you know the story. However, Olivander goes on to say this: "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It's not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible! Yes. But great."


Now, do not take that quote out of context. Just like there is nothing "great" about what Voldemort did, there is absolutely nothing about the Holocaust was "great" in the slightest. It was a horrible time, full of truly unthinkable things, some of which they don't write about in textbooks. However, my realization that day led me to think of that quote simply because I was hit over the head that humans are capable of amazing things...amazingly good and, in this case, amazingly terrible things.


I'm not going to sit here and write about the events that led to the development of concentration camps. I'm not going to explain the history of Dachau. I'm not going to delve into the history of World War II and attempt to lecture on the political problems in Germany at the time. I'm not going to show you pictures of the crematorium because, quite frankly, I didn't take pictures of the crematorium. I thought it would be too disrespectful to what happened there. But, I am going to ask you to just think about what I write here and merely request that you help me to try and make a change. 

The front door of Dachau always stays open to honor the victims.

Dachau was a horrible place as were most concentration camps. If you were in Dachau, you were not considered a person. You gave up that right when they forced you in the door. They took your right to living the life you wanted. They took your happiness. They took away the ability to laugh when the director of the camp lined you up at your "welcoming" assembly and told you that there is no laughing at Dachau because only the Devil laughs at Dachau and he was the Devil. After that, they took your clothes, they took your belongings, they took your citizenship, and they took your dignity. And then, if you stood out in the least, you were made to be an example by an SS guard, which basically meant that you were beaten, tortured, or killed. 

Your "welcoming" to Dachau began here.

Rows where barracks used to be.

The bunker where the most horrible forms of torture occurred.

Again, I'm not going to write about the things that they did at Dachau to torture and kill. Yes, it's necessary to hear so that we can understand and learn, but you don't need to hear it from me. It's not my place to share. But I am going to ask a simple question: Why hasn't genocide ended today? The question is hard, but the answer, no matter how you answer it, is even more loaded. But the basis of the answer is, in short, that humans, in general, sadly don't care.


At Dachau, there is a memorial in the center of main area that contains a large block of ash from the victims in front of a plaque that reads, "Never Again" in seven or so languages. "Never Again" is a idealist belief, because if you look at the history of the world both before and after World War II, we have no right to say never again. It has happened again and again and again. And we are fooling ourselves if we say it won't happen again in the future. Since World War II alone, there has been genocide, or the new euphemism "ethnic cleansing," all over the world: Bosnia and Herzegovina, Rwanda, Cambodia, and many other places. Look at what is going on today in Darfur. There has been genocide on every continent. And yet, many people just sit there and do nothing because it isn't us. 


Well, my opinion is that thought process is, for lack of a better term, complete bullshit. As Martin Niemoller, a pastor during World War II, said: "First they came for the communists and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist. Then they came for the trade unionists and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me." I can guarantee you that if we lived back then, the Nazis would find a reason to throw everyone I know, including myself, into a concentration camp. I guarantee you that there are people today who would find reasons to throw every one of us into concentration camps if they had the chance. It's a harsh reality, but it's true. And there would be no one left to fight for us because they would be in the camps right beside us.

At the entrance to the crematorium. Translates to "Think about how we died here."

So I make a request of you, the same request that the Dachau Survivor's Association makes of everyone who walks through the literally haunting halls of the bunker, gas chamber, and crematorium at Dachau: "Think about how we died here." And don't just stop at Dachau. Think about how the Native Americans died on the Trail of Tears. Think about how the people died in Serbia. Think about Rwanda and Darfur. Then, think about if it were you. 


And then, most importantly, think about the dignity in human life that has been lost AND how you can help restore it.


When I was a senior in high school, I first started learning about the genocides occurring in Darfur in my Government Class. A group of us started a chapter of STAND at our school and did a whole day of presentations on what was going on in Sudan. The highlight was that our US Representative, who was at the time one of only 25 representatives to sign a letter petitioning the government of China to stop using Sudanese oil in response to the atrocities in Darfur, came to discuss the topic of Darfur and show us ways we could help. We sold T-Shirts and raised money. My first semester at Temple, I joined an organization that educated on Darfur and tried to raise awareness on what was going on there. I remember being absolutely sickened when someone in a faith-based community on campus told me in conversation that I "shouldn't be worried about Darfur but more concerned about buying Christmas presents." Even if it was joking, it wasn't funny. Not in the slightest. Talk about a major slap in the face of the victims and just blatant disrespect.


But, I'm not perfect. I'll admit that school work, friends, and other organizations I was involved in got the best of me and I have not done anything to support the anti-genocide movement in a few years. That embarrasses me. I'm ashamed I didn't do more. Going to Dachau was the hit in the head I needed to get back into it. And, yet again, I'm asking you to do the same. Write letters to your politicians, watch a video online, donate money, join an organization in your town or on your campus tell your mom, just DO SOMETHING. Just think if it were you.


But, please, this is not about me. Don't do this because I asked you to do this. Do this for the victims- the people who really matter. Do this in their honor in the hopes that one day we truly can say "Never Again." After all, when I went to Dachau, I was granted the blessing to do something that so many people who walked in its doors did not get to do: I got to walk back out.


And you would have as well.