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Germany, ink doodles

Bonhoeffer Sites, Berlin: ink doodles

I stood in the street and looked around me. The day was gray and misty, the sidewalks busy, the traffic heavy. A few barricades protected me where I stood, and l spun slowly around, taking in the panorama. I stood on a mismatched stripe of stones, running straight through the city. I murmured the name of the city to myself, “Berlin.” I was standing in Berlin, on the spot where the Berlin Wall once divided the city, and essentially the country.

Growing up in the ’80s, and taking German for four years in high school, Berlin is familiar to me…the one name brings with it trails of information, history and images. And now I stood in the middle of Berlin.

We stood in front of the Reichstag, with the German flags flying. We stood in front of the huge Brandenburg Gate. We visited the Pergamon Museum, eating a sack lunch among the columns riddled with old wounds from bullets and shrapnel. We wandered through the strange, high blocks of the Holocaust Memorial, passed Checkpoint Charlie and sections of the Berlin Wall. We heard a lone musician play guitar in the peeling, echoing space of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s church and walked through lines of birch trees to Bonhoeffer’s memorial in a Berlin cemetery. And we stood in line at a souvenir shop, being bullied back by a gaggle of elderly French women, making us late for the rendezvous at the pink bus (sorry fellow travelers).

The Pergamon Museum was a maze of incredible, ancient treasures.

Ishtar Gate at the Pergamon Museum, marker & ink doodle

Ishtar Gate at the Pergamon Museum, marker & ink doodle

 

The moment that sticks with me most from Berlin was the surprising emotions and images evoked by the Holocaust Memorial:

June 19, 2014

“At first it just looked like a bunch of stone blocks. It seemed less than impressive. As you begin walking through, the ground dips down in rolling, thin paths, as the cold gray slabs grow taller. Sound is echoing and muffled and you begin to feel small, insignificant, lost, trapped…It’s so quiet. You see people pass in front of you and then disappear, swallowed up. You weave your way back and forth among the tall pillars, and finally begin rising out as the ground steeps and the blocks shrink. A beautiful, surprising monument to a time when so many disappeared, swallowed up, and so many felt lost, cold and afraid. When you emerge, you remember the survivors who found freedom and escape, and rekindle hope that such evil will be prevented as we learn lessons from the past.” 

Reichstag & Holocaust Memorial, ink doodles with colored pencil

Reichstag & Holocaust Memorial, ink doodles with colored pencil

 

Buchenwald. A concentration camp that served as a Nazi work camp and place of the utmost horror, suffering and hatred during WWII. We visited this place early in our trip.

My journal reflections:

June 18, 2014

“In the bright, warm sun, ringed by green trees full of singing birds, we crunched across the expanse of gray gravel in a place that has seen unfathomable horrors.

Small flowers and an orange butterfly were by my feet while I stood steps away from the crematorium, the “doctor’s” office, and a room that is the closest thing to hell on earth I have ever experienced: a cellar with metal hooks hung high around the room, a room in which humans systematically and efficiently strangled other humans, groups at a time, causing them a horrible, slow death. Humans – all humans.

A metal monument rests warm in the ground in this sheet of gray wasteland,in memory of those who suffered in this place. It warms to remind us of our body temperature…when you place your hand on its surface, you remember we all share life, we are all human. Buchenwald is over. Hatred is not; discrimination is not. We all must do our part to rehumanize, to restore dignity to those dehumanized by their fellows, and to work against hatred.

As we walked out of Buchenwald, I was alone. I walked down the path and heard my feet crunching. I heard birds chirping so loudly, ringing in my ears. Birds don’t hate each other. Only humans are capable of such cruelty and torture, such atrocities. Birds just live. The world has such beauty, and it is intermingled with such horror.”

So struck by the life in and around the camp – the flowers at my feet, a butterfly, a bee, the singing birds, the everyday life on the hills beyond its borders – which stands in such contrast to the bleak, gray gravel, I drew the life and land and color surrounding the field of deathly gray. The dichotomy of life, with its beauty and goodness, and its cruelty and horror. All in one.

Buchenwald: marker, colored pencil & ink doodle

The last place we visited on our way out was the camp’s prison, as if the camp itself wasn’t prison enough. There were pictures and memorials in the cells of the men who were kept there, men who spoke out and refused to bend to such evil. Two of them wore clerical collars. I recorded in my journal:

“We remember your stand, even if you did not live through it. We are glad you did not bend no matter what cruelty and violence was put upon you by your fellow humans who operated at their basest level. We hope and pray these things will end – I would say never come again, but I know torture and hatred continue in this moment in many forms. May we do our part, with even a portion of your courage, to lessen such hatred, to speak against it, to save those who live in a hell.”