Showing posts with label Communism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Communism. Show all posts

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Krakow, Poland: Death Camps


Krakow, Poland


Boarding the train headed for Krakow, Joy dragged as much of
my stuff as she could, as well as, her own backpack. Climbing the
steps onto the train, we realized this would be a much different
ride. The train was packed, literally, with people. We attempted to
walk anywhere to find a place to sit. With our luggage against
the wall of the small walkway, we stood, as much out of the way
that we could. I am very claustrophobic, so this was no easy task
for me to withstand.


It wasn't long before we met a young woman returning to the
University in Krakow who spoke English. She proceeded to tell
us that the train was full of students doing the same as she was:
returning to school. The next hour was spent listening to her tell
of how the youth of Poland had aspirations of the future and
capitalism, while her parents wanted to return to Communism,
just so they could have some security with any income, regardless
of how meager it might be. Incentive and vision of opportunity
for a better quality of life, was not the issue for her parent’s
generation. It was security and the familiar. Saddened by what
she said was only heightened for me after having stood in Red
Square just ten years earlier, right after Perestroika. I saw no life
in the eyes of the Russian people, having lived under a
Communist regime for over seventy years at that time.
Recognition of that same look was reflected in the faces I had
already seen in The Czech Republic a day earlier. Now, I began
to pay attention to those around me. Many had that same blank
glare in their eyes. She made the trip bearable, intriguing, and
unforgettable.


Arriving at the train station in Krakow, we now were on a
mission to find our hotel. Within walking distance, Joy and I
headed down the main street in Krakow. Such different
architecture, beautiful, old, inspiring. I photographed the images
in my mind where they remain to this day. After settling into our
modest room, we set out to find sustenance. Asking the front desk
clerk about where we might find something to eat, he offered
several suggestions. Joy and I found ourselves sitting in a
restaurant on the square in Krakow, Poland, eating pizza. That
was a bit of comic relief, in what otherwise, had been a day filled
with drama.


Waking early enough to have toast and tea, we set out to our
ultimate destination, the infamous death camp known as
Auschwitz. It was a beautiful fall day. The sky was as blue as I
have ever seen. As we came to entrance of the camp, that moment
was as surreal as any I have experienced. Bright yellow leaves
were strewn in our path, as though inviting us to a place of
beauty. The reality of what we were about to take in was quite a
contrast to this invitation. Walking under the brick arch, the first
thing I noticed was the gallows, where people, countless people,
had hung. A shudder ran through me and it would not be the
last, but the first of many. The gentle breeze caused the yellow
leaves to flutter like butterflies, as we passed the housing for the
many Jews brought to the camp, a few for work and many for
death.


Our guide began to enter one structure at a time which had
housed the many people who were victims of the Holocaust,
carried out by Third Reich, or Hitler's ultimate plan for a "pure
race." As we entered one, and then another, of the quarters,
reverence is the only word I can use to describe those who
entered along with Joy and me. Each unit was a sublime, yet a
gruesome reminder, of just what had taken place during the
Reich's rule. The best description I can offer is that one half of
the 30 x 50 foot area of the single room, was covered with some
kind of acrylic that went from the floor to the ceiling at a 45*
angle. Behind the clear acrylic, was filled with articles taken
from those thousands, millions, who had once lived lives of
beauty and freedom. In silence, we stood viewing millions of
shoes in one building. In silence, we stood viewing millions of
locks of hair in another building. In silence, we stood viewing
millions of watches, in yet another building. In silence we stood
viewing millions of... and so it went. In silence, tears streamed
down my cheeks. One of the most sobering experiences of my
life.


After exiting the last of the units, we headed for the berm, which
housed the gas chamber and the ovens. Covered with green grass
and daisies, once again, the surrealistic picture was quickly
interrupted as we abruptly entered the gas chamber, where
millions had been gassed. Again, silence was the only sound.
Reverence and homage was the only palpable sense among those
who had ventured into the Chamber. Standing for a few, or many
minutes, we then proceeded into where the ovens were located.
Chills run down my spine as I recall the brick that had burned
those precious bodies of many. There are no words in the
English language to describe what I saw, and how I felt. Horror
is the single word that comes to mind. The extermination camp
known as Auschwitz, had revealed itself to this one person, with a
lasting impression of what bigotry, hatred, scorn and loathing is
capable of producing. Death. Tortuous death, after having their
last days lived under a tortuous regime.


As if that scene was not enough, we boarded the bus that took us
to Birkenau. Stark in contrast to the brilliance of the yellowleafed
path that lead us into the camp at Auschwitz, the guard
tower, built to represent the one that stood in the same position at
the time of the heinous rule of the Third Reich, symbolized power
and control. Walking under a simple wooden beam, the most
striking image forever embedded in my mind was the shear
vastness of landmass that was, the death camp of Birkenau.
Historically, the Germans, learning that the Russians were
quickly making their way towards the camp, began to burn what
they could of the evidence of their crimes. Unable to finish their
attempt to cover what had taken place, in a place and space in
time, reserved only for the torture and murder of millions of
Jews, the Russians proceeded to burn what was remaining of
Birkenau.


The only structure on the hundreds of acres of land known as
Birkenau, was a replica of what the housing had been for the
prisoners. Stark, cold, devoid of color, is the image I recall as I
entered the unit. Unlike Auschwitz, these units were very large,
capable of housing hundreds of people at a time. I would not be
so pretentious to act as any kind of historian, but I know enough
in regard as to the conditions the prisoners "lived" in day to day.
Filth, disease, and hunger were but a few of the adjectives I've
read that describe what that building represented.


Lastly, before boarding the bus back to Krakow, we stood in the
guard tower, looking over the immensity and emptiness that, had
once, been a bigger version of what we had seen at Auschwitz.
"They" say the skies were always raining soot from the ovens
that burned every hour of every day for years. Heaviness and
weight were what I felt, inside, and an oppressiveness was
lingering in the fall air on the outside. The memory has had as
much impact on me as any memory of a moment in my life.
Sobering the thought of the depravity of man at its worst.
Leaving was a relief. The next day, we boarded the train that
would traverse from Poland, The Czech Republic, Austria and
back to Switzerland. Joy returned to the safety net of
L'Abri, filled with her young, but astute, observations made of
our journey across four countries, each filled with their own
unique flavor and memories. As I drove away, she waved from
her tiny chalet. I knew she had grown as a woman, making this
mother proud for what she was doing at such a young age:
Searching for Truth.


The drive around Lake Lucerne, seemed much more beautiful
this time. I felt lighter and heavier at the same time, full of the
knowledge of good and evil, the very thing God attempted to
shield us from in the Garden of Eden. Enriched with the
experience of the journey and the destination, had been a small
chapter in what I now know as my life.


sarah beaugez_krakow, poland_(c)2013

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Off the Beaten Path: Moscow, Russia


Moscow, Russia

It was 1993, just after Perestroika. Russia was very unsettled and the Ruble was at, or above 5,000% inflation. The Russian people were wondering what to do with a post-Communist, open market, capitalistic, economy after 70 years of a government ruling everything. The Christian Church had been isolated, shunned, and even persecuted under a Communist government attempting to dictate there was no God.

My sister lived in Virginia at the time. She called and said that her church was going to take a group to Russia, Romania, and Hungary on a mission trip. Knowing that I loved to travel, and that I loved to meet new people, she asked if I would like to tag along. Of course I jumped at the opportunity.

We met and flew out of Atlanta, making our way through Heathrow in London, on to Amsterdam, only to board yet another plane headed to Moscow. As we made our way into the terminal in Moscow I realized that the only other people that were there were armed soldiers escorting us from the last gate, down the terminal, to baggage claim. Yes, I did say armed guards.

The ghost-like terminal served as a reminder as to just how oppressed the Russian people had been. We had come to their turf to tell a story of a man named Jesus, who He was, and why He came. It is a simple story of Redemption for all, but not a concept to be grasped. Godless for over 70 years, the Russian people had long since given up on any kind of hope. Hope for any kind of capitalist economy, hope for the Christian Church, who had long since gone underground due to persecution, and hope that tomorrow could be a better day.

We stayed in a hotel, which we found out was one of the nicest hotels in Moscow. An interesting fact: Every room had a vent hole in the floor to allow the methane gases from each bathroom to have an outlet. The beds were twin size with a simple cotton covering. The room was stark, as I recall, undefined space. It was cold and unremarkable. It was as though there was no time, place or space that was definable. It was a representation of the Russian people and their lack of freedom for so many years.

Once settled, we were on our Mission to preach the gospel, in any place someone would listen. We were told that the Russian people were put off by the bright colors of clothes worn by those from Western countries, such as the United States. We were told to wear clothes that were understated in style and dull in color. We were told to blend in. While attempting to be compliant, I still managed to find a bit of trouble.

One night we were to go to the Olympic village, where the games had been played in 1980. Once again, we were told that the Russian people did not like loud music such as was listened to in the Western world. Accompanying us, was a gospel group, Truth, out of Mobile, Alabama.. They were a group who sang contemporary Christian music. They also did not dress like the rest of us had been told to dress. They looked extremely in style and very much like the Western cultures.

Once at the Olympic village, we were in a somewhat small venue. The group known as “Truth,” was going to sing to some of Russian people. Our crew was to be available if any of the people needed to talk to someone after the service. We were sitting at the top of the venue when Truth did their warm up. It was loud, very loud. It was not what we were told the Russian people would be receptive to hear.

Of course, there always must be someone who tells the truth, no pun intended. No one in our group was willing to tell the leader of Truth just how loud the music really was. I took it upon my not-so-shy self to go to the stage and let the leader know. As I stood at the edge of the stage waiting on the leader, I didn’t think that what I was going to say would cause such a stir.

The leader finally made his way to me, and I proceeded to tell him the consensus in regard to the volume of the music. Let’s just say I was not well received. Let’s just say that the next morning at breakfast, I was accused of being in the garb of Satan himself. It tore my heart out, as all I was attempting to do was the correct thing. Sometimes I wish I were more afraid of telling the truth.

At some point in our 5-day stay in Moscow, we went about an hour and a half outside of the city to a small village and an even smaller church that met in a very small house. Upon arriving we were all shocked at just how time-warped the living conditions had been for the Russian people. When we got there several of us had to go to the bathroom. It was a 3-seater outhouse with the men’s side directly attached by a thin wall to the women’s bathroom. As we exited the outhouse there was a very small aluminum water holder and a clean cotton towel for washing and drying our hands.

Entering through the back door, it took my eyes a minute or two to adjust to the lack of light in the very tiny kitchen. There were probably ten or twelve of us in our group. We were told to sit at the table in the kitchen, although it wasn’t very big. As we squeezed ourselves onto the bench against the wall and on the outside side of the table, the Russian women began to bring us something to eat.

Through our interpreters we learned that the women had prepared Blini bread. As they served it to us with great pride, with their very dirty fingernails quite visible, the interpretors went on to say that this was a “thank you” from the people of this church because we represented America. Also, the interpreters told us the Blini was made of American flour, sugar and butter.

If I had been anywhere else I would have refused to eat because of the lack of cleanliness. But, these women just stood there grinning, not eating, as though they were presenting food to kings. As I did eat, I was most humbled by their humility. It was in my spoiled ignorance that I had come to a country filled with hurting people in so many ways. No freedom to go to church, the school of their choosing, or have opportunity for improving themselves. All incentive had been removed.

This would not be the last of humbling experiences while I was in Eastern Europe.

To be continued…