By: Ross Tedder
It was a pleasant Thursday morning. Our group had just spent two very emotionally intense days at Treblinka, and at Majdanek. We were all looking forward to what was supposed to be a more relaxed day. We left early, hopped on the bus and listened to Howard’s story on the journey to Wierzbnik-Starachowice. I had read a bit about it this school year in my Genocide and Holocaust studies course, so I was excited to actually go there and speak to residents. But, my excitement morphed into concern the moment we were in the same room as the Polish students. Howard was telling his story about his life in Starachowice before the war, and what it was like being stripped away from it. Nothing was funny, yet students were laughing. The moment was very sobering, yet they seemed to be untouched. I thought to myself, “How can anyone be unmoved by this man’s story? How can anyone be so oblivious to what happened here that they don’t care?”
I tried to move my mind off of it for the time being. I thought that maybe as the story went on they’d be more attentive. This thought was apparently in vain. Minutes later, we moved to the oldest Jewish cemetery in Starachowice. There, a brief service was held to commemorate those buried there. Again, this was a somber moment. Yet, those who actually reside in Starachowice, those who are so close to the history there, seemed untouched. I thought once again to myself, “why?” By this point, I was moderately upset, and was venting to my roommates who shared the same sentiment. I decided that I wasn’t going to be satisfied until I got closer to the answer of the question, “Why do people not care about this?”
Over lunch at a local hotel, we had the opportunity to sit and socialize with Polish students. This was a unique opportunity that many people do not have, and I asked as many questions as possible. At one point in the conversation, I asked a student, “What do you learn about the Holocaust in school?” Her answer to this question was, to say the least, disheartening. “It is covered in our World War Two unit in history class.” “How long do you spend on it?” I asked. “A few days.” she responded. This in particular concerned me. Though still unacceptable, I expect that type of negligence in the United States. But in Poland? In a nation so closely affected by the Holocaust? In a nation that had one of the highest Jewish populations in the world before the war? I was shocked. I was saddened, because in America I’ve experienced similar apathetic attitudes. As a black person, even from a young age, you’re acutely aware of the horrors of slavery and post civil discrimination against black people. But, some people see this as some ancient event that doesn’t apply to them. “You’re still using slavery as an excuse?” “It happened two hundred years ago! Get over it!” That sentiment not only hurts, but it hinders the idea of “never again.” When people don’t care about other people, it incubates hate and ignorance. At the moment, I shifted the conversation to a different topic because I saw myself getting into an argument, but it was still heavy on my heart. A feeling of empathy washed over me. “You know how shitty that feels back home, imagine how alone the Jewish population in Poland feels today knowing that what happened to them is being ignored?” It was at that point that I fully understood that actually achieving the idea of “never again” was going to take a lot of work.