Jewgitive
If only we knew more about them. More than a string of loose associations, or resentment, the Star of David evokes; more than the crumbling tombs overgrown by the grass nobody cares to cut; more than the swarthy looking faces of their grandchildren who visit this land to read the scarce plaques on buildings, engraved in the script recalling a half-forgotten nightmare. If only we heard more than the news from their own land, where the yesterday’s victims perpetuate similar atrocities they were once subjected to.
If only we knew what being a Jew meant then, when they lived next door. Today, they have become a fading spot in memory, a mark that links to few facts which only a still surviving handful of witnesses can make any sense of. So much of their world has been wiped out from the world we shared – a sense of belonging, a belief, a religion, a culture, a folklore, a common history, a destiny, a language, a sense of otherness, and a sense of community and neigbourhood.
Last night* the ghost themselves appeared on screen in black and white while their past neighbours and friends spoke of the loss. And the feeling of regret flickered dimly – if only we knew more about them, we would have more of this certainty about ourselves – where we came from and what we should really stick to today.
* a one-off screening of Po-lin. Slivers of memory, a documentary by Jolanta Dylewska, at Forum
