Stumbling over the people

As I rolled my bag along the street from the station, I found my eye drawn to small metal plaques set into the pavement.

Some utility signs. I decided. Access beneath for the power or the gas.

I waited for the lights at an intersection. The cars here come at you from the wrong way, and I have found it less stressful to wait for the lawful crossing than to venture off the safety of the footpath. I bent down to study the inscription on one plaque.

There were people there. Dead people. No, not dead but murdered. Here was a family, fled to England in 1939, deported to Latvia and killed by the Nazis in Riga.

Now that my eye had the measure, there were people up and down the street in the old town. Some had found safety, most had found Treblinka or Auschwitz.

Asking a local about these tiny memorials, I found they were called “Stolpersteine“, literally stumbling blocks after the cobblestones that stick up a centimetre or two and trip up the passers-by. In times past Germans might say, “There must be a Jew buried there!” and come the Nazis, Jewish cemeteries were desecrated and their gravestones used to pave the streets.

Now, these small brass plaques are part of a memorial project to mark the final voluntary living or working places of the victims of the Holocaust. Not just Jews, but many other victims who just happened to have the wrong faith or ethnicity, gender preference, or even just their own sweet thoughts.

There are only a few tens of thousands of these plaques. If the full number were made, the streets would be paved with gold.

As intended, my thoughts were directed to those who chose this place to live and were then forced to wander and die by mindless hatred.

Our world is turning again in that direction, it seems, and I am thankful for the efforts of those who pursue a gentler, more caring, more thoughtful path.

Britni

Image by Britni Pepper




Written by Britni Pepper

Britni Pepper has always enjoyed telling stories. About people, places and pleasures. Her schoolmates loved listening to her stories about princesses and pirates and dragons, and once she looked up to find the principal looking on. "No, no, don't stop, Britni," he said. "I want to hear what happens next!" What happened next was university, a job in the travel industry, and a career of travelling the world meeting the most fascinating people. Britni has travelled to thirty of the world's nations and loves making up stories about fascinating people doing interesting things in exotic places. No longer tales about princes and wizards, but her stories are just as much fantasy as ever.

2 comments

  1. Thank you for sharing this Britni and for stopping to take notice. The signs of the times are troubling indeed. I choose to believe that there is more love than hate in our worl , even today, but we have to find a way to spread more of it and eradicate the fear of different.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Well put! There is always love. And there should be no difference at all between loving someone close, and loving someone completely different.

      Because above all the trivial differences, we are all one.

      Liked by 1 person

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