It is almost 2am and I just got out of the shower
After a particularly stinky, cramped, and grumpy five hour bus ride, we got back to our hotel at 1 in the morning, feeling delirious and gross.
Stepping into the shower in my room, I feel a sense of relief wash over me, as I scrub away the grime of the day. There's something incredibly humanizing about being able to clean yourself. There's a sense of ritual in the soaps and shampoos, turning the faucet to the perfect angle. And as I stood there, I thought back to the 'sanitation rooms' we saw today at Majdanek, the 'saunas' we saw the day before at Auschwitz. I see how twisted this humanizing act must have been for the victims who were forced to strip down all together and thrown into a room with freezing cold and scalding hot water, terrified that instead of water, gas might come out of those same showerheads up above. When you take away someone's basic right to clean themselves, you take away their humanity, their privacy, and their dignity.
The past five hours have contained a lot of complaining. I was grumpy too, angry at the bathroom for being so smelly, at the bus for being so cramped, at everyone for being so loud. And then I think back to everything we've seen, about the cattle cars I saw yesterday that had been used to transport so many people in such a tight space. And I begin to feel so incredibly lucky, so incredibly thankful.
Imagine being born a few decades ago. Imagine living the same kind of happy life that you live now, with your loved ones and your comfort and all your early possessions. Imagine having the luxury of knowing you are human, just like you have today. Imagine that one day that was ripped away from you. Your possessions, like your favorite shirt or that necklace your grandmother gave you, are gone. Your loved ones, like your parents or your children, are gone. Your comfort is nonexistent. How can you even begin to feel human, when you're treated worse than an animal, when you're told that because of who /you/ are, /you/ are not allowed to exist?
We think that we need so much in life, when for some, really all there was to living was staying alive.
I get out of the shower, and text my mom. I pick out my clothes for the day. I brush my teeth and pack my suitcase. And all my mundane acts take on a new significance, in the context of what I've seen this past week.
Sleep well tonight .(Amy Y)
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