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April 29, 2005
A Jewish American in Berlin
Grandson of Holocaust survivors comes to terms with the city's
dark past.
ROGER GOLDBERG
I am sitting at my desk in my room in Prenzlauerberg, a hip neighborhood
in East Berlin known for its young adult population and reputation
as a hotbed of underground creativity during its time as one of
the westernmost neighborhoods of the former Soviet block.
The window to my right frames a white apartment building with a
red roof and many windows, some with flowers in the windowsills
and some without. From the street, the sign above the entrance to
the building reads: 'Toy Repair Shop – visitors welcome anytime.'
Through the entrance way and on the opposite side of the courtyard
is the shop, in which a small, red overall-clad man with a tuft
of white hair goes about his business building and repairing wooden
toys."
So began my diary entry of July 17, 2004, about one-and-a-half months
after I had arrived in Berlin. Soaking up the impressions of this
fascinating city is something that still occupies the majority of
my time, even after I've been here for almost a year.
But as time has passed, I've realized that this city is dripping
with more than charm. It is impossible to go anywhere devoid of
historical significance, either from Berlin's dark past as the capital
of the destruction of European Jewry, or in its history as a divided
city and physical location of the former Iron Curtain.
On my street alone are several buildings that served as makeshift
concentration camps during the early years of the Third Reich. Political
dissidents were imprisoned in the cellars, where they were beaten
and often tortured. The roar of the parties taking place in the
canteens above drowned out the cries from below. In much the same
way, Berlin's pulse and presence as a cultural and cosmopolitan
centre of Europe seems to drown out the memory of the things that
happened here just a little over half a century ago.
I remember walking one day down Kurfurstenstrasse, one of the main
streets, and seeing a placard pasted onto the back of a bus stop.
It contained black-and-white photos of Adolf Eichmann and bold text
explaining that the site a few metres away, where a hotel now stands,
housed the offices of the Gestapo and the office of "Jewish
Affairs." This same building had once housed the headquarters
of B'nai B'rith.
The poster went on to say that from his offices, Eichmann planned
the logistics of the systematic transport and murder of millions
of European Jews.
I stood transfixed, moving my gaze from the photos to the hotel,
wondering if the guests knew the once-perverse function of the space
in which they were taking their holidays – and if they did,
would they still want to stay there? My thoughts merged with the
sounds of the passing traffic and I began to think how easy it could
be to exist in Berlin without ever descending into one of those
cellars to catch a glimpse of the darker side of this city's history.
Part of that dark past is mine. My grandmother, Rachel Goldberg,
lost her family – her parents, Mera and Leib, and her siblings,
Lazar, Avram and Gitl – after the Nazis invaded White Russia.
My grandfather, Isar Goldberg, was forced to fight in the Russian
army and he starved to death while defending St. Petersburg. Rachel
later fled with my father, Gene, to Saratov and, in 1973, they emigrated
to Israel, where I was born nine years later.
I am comforted that the subject of reconciling the past is alive
in Berlin, as evidenced by the recent controversies involving the
construction of the Berlin Holocaust memorial and the opening of
a major art exhibit, in which the works were acquired with the "blood
money" of forced labor.
Berliners are engaged in a constant effort to ensure that the past
is never too far removed from the present. The process can be painful,
including panel discussions on the deep schism between Europe and
Israel and projects encouraging tolerance and co-operation, especially
in light of the growth of neo-Nazism.
There are many efforts to provide forums for Holocaust victims and
their families, including those of the foundation providing financial
support of my year-long stay in Berlin. The Remembrance, Responsibility
and Future Foundation was formed in August 2000 with proceeds from
a legally mandated 10 billion Deutschmark fund created to pay reparations
to survivors and others who had been persecuted by the National
Socialist regime.
The scholarship program I'm taking part in (along with 27 other
students from around the world) is one of several financed by 700
million Deutschmarks set aside for projects addressing social justice,
totalitarianism and humanitarian endeavors. For two semesters, we
are able to study at one of Berlin's universities and take part
in a seminar titled European Neighbors, in which we work on small-group
projects with such themes as The New European Identity and Political
Discussion in Public Art.
This program has special meaning for Humboldt University, the institution
that founded it. During Hitler's reign, hundreds of "non-Aryan"
students and professors were expelled from this school. In October
2001, Humboldt invited 50 of these expelled students, by then in
their 80s and 90s, to tell current students about their experiences.
Their visit led Humboldt to invite their grandchildren to study
in Berlin.
Two years later, the program was expanded. The scholarship program,
now in its second year, opened with 30 students from eastern Europe,
Israel and the United States.
When I look out onto Berlin now, I still see the same sights that
caught my attention when I first arrived. But my perception of them
has changed. Everything I pass looks a bit different, as I try to
fit things into the greater history of the city, and of my own family.
As my grandmother turns 90 this month and we remember the deaths
of her parents and siblings, I will be in Berlin, closing the circle
on a dark period in my family's past, four generations later.
Roger Goldberg is a recent graduate of Brandeis University.
For information about the scholarship program Goldberg describes
in this article, visit www2.hu-berlin.de/aia/stud_ausl/evz.htm.
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