Day 20 and 21: Tying up loose ends

We spend yesterday and today tying up loose ends and unfinished business. Yesterday, we visited Josef again and he was kind enough to give us a few pages of his notes he had worked on when he wrote his book Shoah. See previous entries (Sept 6 and Sept 13) He also let us look through his photo albums and scan a few pictures. There are some photos of his family - his wife and children and himself together; they are a beautiful family, happy and comfortable as a unit. In fact, they look like they could be perfect models for a breakfast cereal commercial. He tells us of how deeply affected he was when he read the documents he had researched and unearthed. How he used to do this at night; in a way, they kept him company as he wrote most of his book after his wife had passed.

We also drop by at The Green House. While waiting for an appointment, I look through some of the exhibits and information on the panels. There is one that catches my eye. It is a letter, written by a Jewish couple, and handed in by a Polish woman to the director of the pre-war Jewish Museum at the end of the war. It begins with the line "26, VI. A Request to Brother and Sister Jews." It goes on to describe in horrific and graphic detail scenes of rape, castration and murder, and an account of 'help' rendered by a woman to Jews by confiscating/extorting everything they owned. It ends with the demand that justice be meted out to those who committed these crimes and took advantage of the situation to plunder and enrich themselves.

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Last night, I dreamt of spirits. Ghosts. They were trying to talk to me all at the same time. For no apparent reason, I suddenly realised my forearm was over my forehead. For some reason, I thought, I shouldn't cover my third eye.

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Today, we drop by the synagogue before 9am to see if we can catch up with some of the people we interviewed like Berl and Isroel. We want to say goodbye. While Shiv joins the prayers, I sit in the waiting area and take photos of my surroundings, more for something to do than anything else. The man who locks and unlocks the gates whenever we visit tries to make small talk with me but since I don't speak Lithuanian or Russian, we are limited to talking about the weather and swapping photos. I take one of him and he returns the favour by taking one of me with my camera (see photos below). But my picture turns out to be too dark. Dissatisfied with the quality, he switches to using his mobile phone. We end up taking a photo of both of us together on his phone.




We catch sight of Isroel, who pulls out a wad of papers when he sees us. He has some documents he wants to show us. One of them is an English language translation of a civil judgement confirming that his mother was imprisoned in Minsk ghetto between July 1941 and October 1943. Shiv and I feel touched that Isroel is keen to share more information with us. As we did not tell him that we would be dropping by, he must have decided to carry these documents with him since after our last meeting (see previous entry) in the off-chance we would meet again. We say goodbye; he kisses Shiv's hand and mine.

We then drop in to the Vilnius Yiddish Institute to say goodbye to Fania and thank the team there for their assistance. I give Fania a big hug; she has been so warm and open, I feel that we can't thank her enough. After we grab some lunch, we head to The Green House to do likewise. We say goodbye to the team there and split up with Ruta near Traku Str. We will touch base again later in the evening. Shiv and I check out the post office en route to the apartment. We are thinking of sending some of our luggage back by post. We've accumulated quite some books, paper documents and other literature which weigh a fair bit.

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Back in the apartment. Over the last few hours, I have been scanning documents. It's almost 6.30pm now. Shiv decides to take a shower before we go out for dinner. I don't look forward to packing. I have, so far, only packed the exhibit items into a carry-on bag. They're all wrapped in bags and look like contraband.



Our last night in Vilnius. I am looking forward to London. Here's where the next stage of our journey begins...

Day 3: An Interview and Returning to Ponar

Last night, when we returned, I bagged some items taken at Ponar - some soil, some tealight, a flower. We had to go to a supermarket to find Ziploc bags but there was none, so we make do with freezer bags and masking tape. I am wondering how the flower will survive. I pressed it in my note book as a means of preserving and keeping it. Back at the apartment, I looked about and decided to tear a strip of carton box, and fold it over to use as a makeshift hard envelope. Shiv says it is a 'fighting flower.' She found it at the escape pit. It is scrawny and fragile looking. I hope it makes it to an exhibition. One of the ideas is to collect everyday items - things that speak to the Jewish experience - and host them as exhibits at an exhibition we hope to put together eventually at some point. I don't know if Fighting Flower will make it...


Soil from Ponar, pit # 1

We return to Choral Synagogue to speak to the caretaker, Isroel. It becomes an hour-long interview. He speaks articulately. About how he comes from Minsk, Belarus. How they dived flat on the ground when the Nazi bombs fell. How his dad enlisted in the Soviet army. How he went to the hospital to visit him. How they sang a song about soldiers in a convoy meeting a cat on the road. About his children, his wife, a friend who passed away 3 years ago. About the Jewish cemetery that keeps him in Vilnius. About how he would like to die in Israel. About learning to read Hebrew. About how he was ashamed to be a Jew when he was younger. How the swastikas on Jewish buildings makes him sad. When the interview concludes, he prays. I like his sing song voice; it is very melodious.


Isroel

We have lunch at a place call Belmonto. It is a resort of sorts; looks like a theme park with restaurants, cafes and bars and a watermill and waterfall and stream. I have the boiled cabbage stuffed with mince, in a light broth and a dollop of sour cream on the side. It is very good. My choices are paying off.


Cabbage and mince

It has occurred to me that some may find it incongruous or disrespectful that I am writing about food even as I speak of the holocaust. But I do not think these experiences are misplaced or out of sync. Living and dying are two sides of the same coin, are they not?

We return to Ponar to speak to people who live near there; to record their thoughts. Some young people tell us that they have heard of the word 'genocide' but they don't really know what it means. An elderly Polish gentlemen is lonely; he knows nothing about Ponar but would like to tell us about how lonely he feels, about how he lives everyday and how those he knows are "dropping like flies." He is 81.

Jess and Dan decide to take more footage in Ponar. The weather isn't cooperating. It starts to drizzle. We wait. Later, the sun comes out but it's only a brief respite. We speak to a postgrad student who is also a guide; she is visiting Ponar to brush up her knowledge about the place. We speak to a man who manages the museum; he asks for a lift to the station.


Jess and Dan in action.