A part of my grandmother remains

I could write a lot. I could recount the grey stories of the concentration camps and the post-war period, which are still incredibly distressing and painful today. I could mention the small cross pendant that was snatched from the camp and miraculously returned to my family many years later. A symbol of faith and hope – an indelible memory. I could tell you about the daily suffering in the camp. About the hunger, the liberation of the prisoners by the Swedes [editor’s note: the Swedish Red Cross] or the desperate search for the sister-in-law Sabrina. Hundreds of letters, faded by time and lying in my drawer, bear witness to this. I could…

My name is Paulina and I am the granddaughter of a concentration camp prisoner, a strong, beautiful and humble woman full of love and faith in God, full of empathy and kindness. I don’t think I need to introduce you to my grandmother Krystina Razińska. Most people know her smile and her open heart from the annual meetings in May. I would like to write about that. Please allow me to start in the late 1990s, when we had the pleasure of meeting Günther Kliefoth, his wife Edeltraut and the whole family.

In 1945, Günther was a brave 13-year-old boy who, together with his mother, distributed boiled potatoes to the prisoners [editor’s note: from the satellite camp of the Neuengamme Helmstedt-Beendorf concentration camp] crammed into a goods train with 100 people per wagon. The destination of the train was unknown, the wagons were cramped, there was hardly any air to breathe, hunger, misery and death. Two of Günther’s potatoes ended up in my grandmother’s hand. Some others got a little bit of sugar or pasta. There wasn’t enough for everyone…

The sight of the dead intensified the feeling of powerlessness and horror in a situation that, one could say, had no way out. But enough of that, what counts is life itself. It becomes visible in photographs.

After many years, Günther and Krystina Razińska met again. The idea for the film ‘Train to Sülstorf’ was born. Shared memories, mourning together but also sharing happiness; joint meals, conversations until late into the evening and creating new connections with Wolfgang Ehlers, Edeltraut Schure, Georg Erdelbrock, Detlef Garbe and many others.

Grandma and I had the pleasure of spending a holiday with the Kliefoth family in Sülstorf. I still remember the quiet mornings, the warm bread rolls and the dog romping around with his friend, the billy goat. A rare sight.

But why do I want to share about these friendly gatherings in particular? Because they are a rarity among people. My grandmother, however, not only cultivated friendships and loved being together. She literally lived for it, prepared meticulously, wrote her speeches on a typewriter, studied programmes, held conversations, found kindred spirits. She loved to joke, tell anecdotes and infect everyone with her laughter. Although German was not her greatest strength, she never left anyone on the sidelines. She had a good word for everyone. A lot of photos were taken at the meetings to preserve the memories. The most important information was written down in order to preserve as much as possible.

Grandma died in 2012, but she still got to know my daughter, who was born shortly before. A part of my grandmother remains and lives on in me. Her strength and determination, her fighting spirit and her love. I am happy to pass these values on to those born after me.

I myself did not have to endure a concentration camp and yet I know that each of us has their own painful experiences. It is important to trust, not to doubt, not to give up, but to forgive and to believe that there is someone up there who cares for us. My grandmother did not doubt and survived.

She never complained about the past that had so strongly marked her life. Not once did I hear any complaints or hostility towards her tormentors. She did not feel victimised and had neither sorrow in her heart nor revenge on her mind. That’s why she was so beautiful and extraordinary.

My grandma is a heroine. I often miss her heroic deeds in my life.