The story
It had been years that we'd had this wish, which was a bit like paying a debt to history. Back in 2002, when we took our honeymoon (by motorbike to the North Cape, Norway), we'd thought of making a detour to Auschwitz on the way back, but then, with nearly ten thousand kilometres behind us, we didn't feel up to adding more. This time, though, we were determined: we wanted to visit Auschwitz and Auschwitz it had to be, and we paid no heed to those who told us it wasn't worth covering so many kilometres not to enjoy ourselves but to sadden ourselves... if man had been capable of such barbarity, we wanted to see it with our own eyes all the same.
We believed we were two people quite prepared on the subject of the Holocaust, having read many books and seen countless films and documentaries, but no one can claim to be so prepared as to visit the Auschwitz extermination camp without the sad astonishment of someone faced with things beyond comprehension: the emotions are strong and constant, and throughout the visit you're oppressed by a lump in your throat and a sense of anger that, when you least expect it, bursts out in uncontrollable tears. For the first time, in fact, those millions of Jews (but also Roma, homosexuals, political prisoners) are no longer an indefinite mass, but individual people with their own story, hidden behind a suitcase, a garment, a shoe or a lock of now-faded hair.
IF THIS IS A MAN
You who live safe
in your warm houses, you who find, returning in the evening, hot food and friendly faces: Consider if this is a man who works in the mud who does not know peace who dies for a yes or a no. Consider if this is a woman, without hair and without name with no more strength to remember, her eyes empty and her womb cold.
Meditate that this came about: I commend these words to you. Carve them in your hearts at home, in the street, going to bed, rising; repeat them to your children. Or may your house fall apart, may illness impede you, may your children turn their faces from you.
PRIMO LEVI
The journey's photographs
14 photographs · click to open them full screen
1 reader comments
Cara Alessia Ti ringrazio che oggi, proprio oggi, hai inserito quelle drammatiche foto. Era giusto e doveroso anche in un sito dove la gente viaggia per piacere (e ci mancherebbe!), ma dove la tragica esperienza dei campi di sterminio non deve restare fuori, ma deve essere una memoria condivisa da tutti. Io ho visitato il campo di Dachau e so che quello che dici è vero. Mi prese un pianto irrefrenabile, che davanti a tutti non riuscivo a trattenere, ne mia mogli riuscì nell'intento. Sono più vecchio di te, sono della generazione nata subito dopo la guerra, e per questo sono contento quando uno dei nostri figli condivide ciò che noi sentimmo dalla viva voce di coloro che furono deportati o che combatterono per la liberazione dal giogo nazi-fascista. Vale la pena anche ricordare che l'italia ha i suoi campi (Fossoli, Risiera di San Sabba) e che bisogna trasmettere alle future generazioni l'orrore oramai lontano nel tempo, ma ancora vicino nelle nostre menti. Un grazie Andrea Gasparro