06.15.06, Dachau

In a small town outside of Munich the poplar trees stand tall and green. Birds chirp, the air is sweet and warm and red clay-roofed homes rest happily on a quiet street. Behind the houses is a fence that only hints at the intense contrast that lies beyond it. Rusted barbs give way to the white gravel that coats the grounds and feet inside Dachau like the ashes of prisoners not so long ago lost. This place haunted me more than I expected, maybe because I am alone and emotions aren't so held back, but I had a hard time here.

A wrought iron gate with a message in German that translates to "work makes you free" is where I entered Dachau, and it was also the last profoundly false statement many of its prisoners saw before leaving freedom forever. Dachau's grounds give clear and vivid images of cruelty and lies, such as the gas chamber with its entrance still reading "Brausebad," or "showers."

The lump in my throat remained the entire visit and after, and thinking of what occured where I walked today makes me shudder with confusion and disgust. The contrasts between the peaceful calm and serenity just outside and even inside the barbed fences was intense, but what truly made me sick was seeing how "new" everything is. I guess I kid myself when I think of the Holocaust as long gone history. But walking through the prisoners' barracks and flicking the same light switches the guards there flicked, and recognizing the smell of the wood that makes up the desks and doors as being about as old as that at the cabin made it hit home. Pictures don't have nearly the effect on me as did the reality and physicality of this place.

Dachau's motto is "Never again." Isn't it incredible to think that still even some who live just outside its walls believe it never was?