“Help Us, and We Help You!”
I begin my docent training for the Holocaust Museum on Tuesday, which includes giving tours. My plan is to do this for my tours:
At the beginning of the tour, I will give you names of children or teens to hold onto. Many of these names you’ve probably have never heard of. As we go through the main exhibit which is called “Bearing Wittness” we will go through certian parts of the museum and we talk about those kids and teens, as I show photos of them.
Sometimes, when I get into my research and I mean really dig into it, I fall asleep and I just fall asleep like on my desk, or I fall asleep in my bed, and it’s like these children want me to find out what happened to them (yes, not all of them are saving me, which I always appreciate, but sometimes they want to “Show me” something), and in this case, the Pfeffer brothers, who are just adorable as ever, wanted to show me something and I didn’t know what. They were in Auschwitz and children did not necessarily live there. If they did, they were experimented on. I opened my eyes and saw these little boys run to me. But here’s the kicker, they looked like they did before they were deported to Auschwitz. Jan Peter ran to me first, knowing me immediately, and told me that I would one day be here- meaning I would not die there, but I would finally get to pay my respects and finally see where they died. So many Jewish teens and children died there, for no reason and I want to give them my heart. Jan Peter grabbed my hand and led me to his brother, who was a little shy. “She is here to be with us for the afternoon,” Jan-Peter said, with a dutch accent. Thomas came up to me slowly and motioned for me to get to his level. I bent down and he started touching my face. His hands felt so cold and he kept exploring my face.
“Broeder, ze leeft nu. Kate, degene die over ons spreekt (Brother, she is alive now. Kate, the one who speaks of us),” He said in Dutch. I’m learning Dutch, but I didn’t understand. Thomas said “You are alive, my brother said you speak of us.” I nodded. Jan Peter took my hand and we started walking. Thomas didn’t grab my hand until we began walking. We walked in the grounds of Auschwitz, but there was no one there, but us. No guards, no Germans. “Why do you love us?” Thomas asked. When I’m asked this by the Jewish teens and children I study, I am lost for words, because they tend to find me and I feel like they need my help in someway. It’s hard to explain, yes I know, and it’s hard to describe, it’s like they want to live again, cause they didn’t get to and the only way to do that, is when people like me, talk about them and give their photos to people who will finally learn who they were. I looked at Thomas, who looked at me deep in my eyes and I said, “Because you matter and I don’t want the world to forget who you are.” He looked at Jan Peter and said “ Weet ze niet eens wie ze is? (She doesn’t even know who she is ?).” “What?” I said. Jan Peter squeezed my hand a little tighter. “My brother said, you don’t even know who you are,” He said. I got down to their levels. “What do you mean?” I asked.
The brothers looked at each other and Jan Peter said, “Do you believe you are like us? You know would have died if you were here with us. Do you believe what we believe or do you identify as one of us because you want to feel closer to us?” He asked. I knew what he meant: I identify as a Jewish woman, but was not particularly raised Jewish. I always believed what the Jews believed and I felt more comfortable being Jewish and I began going to temple and celebrating the customs of Judiasm. But I have always struggled with my faith, or what I truly believe and these boys wanted to see what I really believe. I asked Jan Peter if he thought I was a fraud? He shook his head. “We know that you struggle with God. But are you sure you want to be like us? You’ll be persecuted!” Jan Peter said. I told him I feel more of a Jewish woman than anything else. Every time I go to a Christian Church, I am so uncomfortable and I don’t like what the Pastor’s or Preachers are preaching. They preach hate, and that doesn’t sit right with me. They twist the words of Jesus, and I am not sure I want to believe this, but when I am at temple, I feel more like myself and I am still learning about it, including the language, I am trying to make sure I can speak and read Hebrew, I feel more connected to that. I am adopted and my parents, were not very religious, but they have views that are very different from mine.
I asked Jan Peter if we are here to discuss God and why I have a hard time understanding what I believe. He shook his head. I got up from crouching. Both boys took my hand, one on each hand. We continued to walk and Thomas said “Be careful where you walk, it’s sacred ground here”. I had heard this. I felt like they knew why I was there, but they didn’t want to tell me yet. We stopped walking. “Where are we?” I asked. “Well, if you go down, you can see where we died,” Thomas said.
“Why are you showing me this?” I asked. Thomas turned his head to the left, and showed me them, how they were taken with their mother. Their mother was beautiful and they were already crying. “Would you sacrifice yourself for your sons?” Jan Peter asked. I nodded and I carefully explained to him I had no sons or children. Like Tomas Kulka before, who tried to explain to me, that I indeed had children, Thomas Pfeffer squeezed my hand and started leading me to where his mother was going. He told me to close my eyes. I did. I felt the touch of Jan Peter’s hand on my stomach and I smelt gas. I was told to keep my eyes closed, not to open them. I heard screaming, coughing and crying. I wanted to open my eyes, but I was told not to. Then, it was quiet, and then I was told to open my eyes. We were standing in the gas chamber, but no one was there, but us three. “Our mother told us to close our eyes and it would be over,” Jan Peter said. “She told you to close your eyes, why?” I asked.
“Because when bad things happen, she didn’t want us to see them and she knew we were going to be no more, but what would you have done? Protect us?” Thomas asked. “I would have hidden you two, and then I would have died in your place,” I replied, which I would do. “See? Mother?” Jan Peter asked. I shook my head, but also looking for their mother.
“No Katie, you are thinking like a mother, and you say you have no sons?” Thomas said. I let go of their hands and I backed away.
“I am NOT Your mother!” I said, backing away.
“No Katie, you’re not, but you protect us!!” Jan Peter said, trying not to scream.
“What?” I said. Thomas was behind me and he placed his hand on my back.
“Katie, you protect us every time you are there, you talk about us, like we’re your sons! Our mother couldn’t save us, but you have the power to save us! Please don’t leave us! Help us and we help you!” Thomas pleaded as he wrapped his little arms around my stomach. I was overwhelmed and Jan Peter noticed my face.
“Tommy! Niet onze moeder, maar onze toekomstige vriend!” Jan Peter said. I looked at the both of them. “Not our mother, but our future friend,” Thomas said. Thomas still had his arms around my stomach and I couldn’t move. Jan Peter came up to me and he said, “We’re not saying you’re our mother, but you are someone we need. Help us and we’ll help you!” He said.
“How do I help you? You’re both dead and have been for years. You’re ash, you’re part of the ground,” I said. Jan Peter told me to come down to his level. I did. Thomas let go of my stomach. I crouched down to him. He put one of his cold hands on my face.
“You help us by knowing our names. You help us by speaking of us. We come alive when you do. We know. We know,” He said.
He knew that I have docent training come up and he knows that they are part of the tour when it comes to the Auschwitz part of the tour. These boys know my struggles but I think they know it’s not hard talking about them, as if I knew them all my life.
Thomas and Jan Peter kicked dropped themselves into my life in 2010, the same year that Tomas Kulka did. I have written about these boys before and I have written about them in different situations. Now, I feel like they felt like they were slipping away. With it being almost 80 years since Auschwitz was liberated, they never left, they are still there, part of the ground.
For me, these kids tear at my heartstrings and I’ll do whatever I can to keep their name relevant and alive.
As I woke up, next to my husband, I looked at my Iphone and it was almost 5 P.M. I had to get up. These little boys knew that I will be beginning Holocaust tours soon, and as my tour, it will be a little different, because unlike my counterparts, who do tours just on the basis of the Holocaust, I will be talking about the kids and the teens who matter to me the most.
I know what you’re thinking: I’m losing my shit. I’m not, believe me, cause I don’t see these kids in front of me. I don’t hear them, they don’t speak to me when I’m awake, so you can get that “She’s schizophrenic!!” out of your mouth or head. No I’m not, believe me, cause I don’t see them or hear them. “Then why are they appearing to you in your dreams? Do they come often?” I get asked. The answer is this: No. I don’t see them in my dreams as often as I write, but lately, I have not been doing well and I think a lot of these people who do see me when I sleep are trying to knock some sense into me and I do appreciate it. But there are times when I’m doing lots of research and fall asleep, it’s like I get the full picture or the answer I wanted. These boys, whatever their reason for their visit was, I had never been visited by them before, never. I knew their names, and what they looked like and tried to pin point different events in their lives, but they have never appeared to me, until today. They know they are part of my tour when I begin giving them. As my grandpa used to tell me, “The Holocaust is not just an event, it’s a personal event, it affected six million people, so everyone had a name, and had a story. It’s our job to remember their names and stories.” I take that literally. I don’t like people to be forgotten and for me, I may be forgettable, but these kids, I’ll never stop fighting for, until I can’t anymore.
The stories of Jan Peter and Thomas Pfeffer is actually really sad. The boys were both murdered with their mother in a gas chamber on July 11, 1944. Jan Peter was 10 and Thomas was almost 7. There is so much that I want to find out, there’s only one more photo of Jan Peter, and I believe it’s his grandmother, Anna who was also killed.
It amazes me that there are people in this world who want to tell me that these boys were never alive. Then who are they then? Why do we have photos of them? I mean for Jan Peter , we have two and for Thomas, we have just one and believe me, I am grateful we have something concreate. They were killed and I’m sure they are still wondering what they did to deserve it? Nothing. My heart screams for them and I know I’ll try to not be too emtional about it when I talk about it. My docent training begins Tuesday, with an interview, and I’ll do everything I can to mention the ones I have loved for almost 13 years. 13 years I’ve been studying these kids and I’m just getting started. The Jewish teens and children scream at me the loudest, that’s why I take an interest in their lives. Survivors, I have had the pleasure of getting to know, but it’s the ones who didn’t make it, that scream at me too. Now, when I say this, I tend to find them, or they find me and I look at their stories and I try to see what more I can find. There was so much speculation after the war about the Pfeffer brothers, if they were alive or dead, but it was confirmed that they were indeed dead. These innocent little boys and these little Jewish boys who wanted to live, were dead.
Now, they know that the world is turning on it’s axel, and the target is the youth, but a different kind of youth: Trans. They’re children too, and I know that my mission is never complete. Though the Jewish teens and children, like I said, I can’t seem them literally , like in front of me, I can feel them in my soul and it’s really weird, I get so upset at these anti-Trans bills and laws and it makes me think of what these kids went through. Why is this happening again? History tends to repeat itself, but in different ways. The youth, people are scared of. Why? I’ll give you one answer: Cause they are the ones who will make the difference. They will change the world. They will vote you out, overthrow you, protest you, fight you, and sometimes, if they are that extreme, make sure you don’t ever have a hurtful thing to say about them again. They are going to be screaming loudly for the rights of others and I’ll be right there with them.
Now, you’ve probably read about my dream with Tomas Kulka, and him saying that “I have children”, or “I need to stay for my lover and my children!” I am really not understanding why these kids think I am some kind of mother figure to them, but to put it plainly, and I know where this coming from, is that I talk and protect these kids as if they were my own. I am hoping to be a mother soon, and I already have motherly instincts already. I am very protective of my friends who are little younger than me, and I would take a bullet for them. I am the type of person that would be happy to sacrifice my life for anyone, and I intend to fight these politicians with these laws and I’ll make sure the Trans youth know that they are always welcome at my house and I’ll make sure they are loved, cause they deserve to be happy to and have a life they deserve.
The thing that I think is different between then and now, is that there are a lot of pissed off people, such as myself, who are going to rebel, over step bounds and make sure that the youth will not be a target like the Jewish teens and children were during the Holocaust. But I think what Tomas, Jan Peter and Thomas were trying to say is that I talk about these kids so much and love them, as if I were family. To me, they seem like people who I want to fight for. You might ask, Kate, why these kids? I don’t know, when I began researching them, it seems like my mission of protecting them and giving them life, became more and more urgent. It’s really important now. Each person who comes through the Holocaust museum, knows who these kids are, thanks to me, for not shutting up about them. The ages is what gets me: 10 years old and 7 years old. The ages break my heart. They didn’t get the chance to see the rest of their lives and here I am, not appreciating my own. They are here saving me from myself. As Tomas said, “If you go- then what becomes of us?” I believe Thomas Pfeffer and Jan Peter, wanted to make sure that they would never be forgotten. They won’t, not to me.
“Help us and we’ll help you,” as Jan Peter said. I know what they meant. But don’t worry, I’ll still be talking about them and when I do begin the tours, I’ll make sure you know who these precious boys were.
