Walking in Auschwitz Alone

Be careful what you wish for

I was expecting Auschwitz to be overwhelmingly sad, but the entire complex was filled with tourists. Countless buses lined the carpark. Airport-like security to enter. I buddied up with Musa at the bus stop in Kraków. Waiting, waiting, waiting. I thought it would be a much sadder place without the thousands of tourists. I know — I come to a “tourist attraction” and expect to be the only one here. Unrealistic expectations right there!

The group was larger than usual, so a big bus had to be deployed to collect us but the “meeting point” street was too narrow. We walked to a larger street. I had fallen behind already but Musa, my new companion, stayed with me.

We chatted on the bus journey out to Auschwitz which made the hour-and-a-half trip seem much shorter.

Everyone was keen to stretch their legs and get inside. But there was more waiting in line to get through security. Oh, I forgot to mention, Martín our tour guide had given out tickets when we first gathered at the meeting place. I didn’t get one. I informed him.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll give it to you on the bus.”

“Okay.”

He did give out tickets on the bus. Everyone except me got one. I mentioned that fact to him again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll print it out for you when we arrive.”

Auschwitz

So, everyone has a proper ticket. I have a scrap of paper like a checkout docket. So, in we go. I’m at the back of the pack. But we have audio so I can hear Martín even though he’s way out in front of me.

I lose sight of him but can still hear him so I figure he must have entered one of the myriads of brick buildings. Who knew this camp was so immense? Certainly not me.

A lady helped me up the stairs. I thought she was in our group. I walked through this entire building seeing collections of spectacles, brushes, bowls and unbelievably, hundreds of prosthetic limbs and devices to aid movement. Could so many people already suffering the burden of having an injured body be subjected to the degradation of imprisonment and death? It just seemed more than unfair.

Suddenly though, I became concerned about losing my leader. I didn’t know how to get out of here and I had no idea of the time.

When I exited the building, I lost the audio so just kept walking keeping an eye out for Martín (he’s tall) and an ear (I left my audio on). But I had completely lost him and the whole group. Suddenly I was alone. I started looking at the numbers on the buildings. I don’t know why — I didn’t have a map to refer to — and I had no idea where the front of the camp was. There were towers all around and a barbed wire fence, so that was no help in determining direction.

When I saw no one, I started to get a bit panicked. How can I find my way out? What if the bus leaves without me? Will I be locked in here all night? Will the ghosts of all the people who died here come to visit me during the night? Do any of the lights work? How much battery does my phone have left?

Then I saw a sign with a map. This might help.

If you’ve been following my travels, you’ll know I have an uncanny ability to get lost in the strangest places, but getting lost here tops them all. All the buildings are numbered for heaven’s sake. I was standing in front of Building 28. I walked to the next building, number 27. On my right hand side was building 21. If I keep walking down past the building with all the chimneys — God, I hope that’s not the crematorium, if I look down to my left, I’ll see the “Arbeit macht frei” gate where I had entered. “Work will make you free.” The same phrase was above the gate at Dachau when I visited in 2014. Dachau was a terribly sad and desolate place. I wasn’t feeling the same sadness here…

until I reached a photo on a wall saying this was the spot where hangings took place. The photos of twelve prisoners who were hanged on 19 July, 1943 were also displayed. When it’s personal, it’s fucking sad. I forgot about being lost and thought of the poor people who suffered here. How can we forgive and forget?

I had to get out of here.

All I could think was what about the poor skinny, underfed, underclothed prisoners who had to stand out in the rain, snow, sleet and who knows what else? Where’s the humanity?

I found the “Work Will Make You Free” sign and almost ran through underneath it.

Now just have to find the exit. I knew I couldn’t get out the same way I came in through a one-way tunnel…thanks goodness, a sign!

I hand my audio in and make my way to the exit. My phone rings — it’s a Polish number. A woman says, “Your driver is waiting for you in Bus Number 7.”

“Okay, I’m just on my way out now.”

I almost run to the bus expecting everyone to be impatiently waiting for me. The bus is empty except for our driver. Yes, I’m at Bus Number 7. Yes, it’s the same driver. What the…?

Exhausted from my “run”, I tell the bus driver I’m just going to buy a water and I’ll be straight back. The same Polish number calls, “Yes, I’m out at Bus Number 7.”

She says, “You need to go to Building Number 7.”

I explain to her, “I am OUTSIDE. I cannot go back in again.”

Will the security people even remember me from the thousands of other visitors they’ve processed today? Possible, but unlikely.

I go back to the bus and wait for another hour for the rest of the party to arrive. I’ve long finished that water. I’m a bit cranky but make good use of my time by starting to write this story. I’ve missed a lot of the tour including the gas chambers. Musa agreed to share his photos with me. Here’s what I missed.

I was unaware prisoners were hanged or shot. I thought they were all gassed. The hangings and shootings were to keep the prisoners in line to stop them trying to escape. Here are the gas chambers. This sends chills up my spine, but if we forget this genocide, what else will we forget?

Birkenau

But wait there’s more! Martín says we are now going to visit Birkenau, the other part of Auschwitz and he warns there’s a lot more walking. My feet are already complaining, and I check my phone and find I’ve walked over 5 km today. How the hell am I going to walk more?

But as soon as we arrive, I know I have to do it. This is the part of Auschwitz that’s always in the movies. Do you recognise it?

We walked the length of that railway track. We couldn’t find where it said “The End of the Line” but it really was the end of the line for the thousands of Jews who arrived here. They were separated into men to one side and women and children to the other. Don’t think they saved the women and children. They sent anyone they couldn’t use for forced labour straight to the gas chambers from here. Maybe that’s why there’s so many crutches and prosthetic legs and arms? This was incredibly confronting, and I was pleased to be outside. One of the wagons used to transport people has been saved or restored as a reminder.

We kept walking right down to the end where there was a Holocaust Memorial. I stopped and took a photo of the sunset. For how many people had this been their last sunset? A melancholy reflective moment I’ll never forget overcame me.

It was beginning to darken as we walked to the ruins of the gas chambers and crematorium. The crematorium was so hot even the bones burnt to ashes. Did they hope they could hide the fact of murdering millions? War does strange things to otherwise normal people. Orders are orders.

There was one last building Martín wants to show us. A building where mothers and their children were kept prisoner. How much sadder can it get? Let me share two last photos from this building.

On the long walk back to the bus, I remembered my dad who survived World War II but was crippled the rest of his life who always said, “ There’s no such word as can’t.” That kept me going all the way back and I wasn’t even the last one on the bus!

PS I had walked 9.5 km.

My thanks to Muhammad Musa Mir for giving me permission to use his photographs.

If you want more, read this prose poem that Katie Michaelson wrote…

it’s beautiful…