by Orit Guttel

Chana Bar-Yesha came to Israel in the summer of 1946, a 14 year-old refugee liberated from Teresienstadt. Four years later she met her husband, also a Holocaust survivor. They quickly established their new home, making sure to visit Yad Vashem every 10th Tevet (the general day of mourning). “We were among the first to come to Yad Vashem and give testimony,” recalls Chana. “The urgent need to tell what happened burned within me. I felt I had to do everything I could so people would know what happened, to ensure it would never happen again.”

Israel Aviram had already begun to teach about Zionism and building the Land of Israel in the coal mines, where he labored with his father. “My father taught me Torah, Mishnah and Gemara, and he spoke of the great importance of a state for the Jews,” he says. “When I arrived in Israel in 1946, the kibbutz members asked me, ‘Why didn’t you resist?’ I understood immediately that they didn’t know a thing about the force the Jews had to face—about the hope or resistance that did happen in some places—not a thing.”

Encouragement from Yad Vashem
Chana and Israel are among the few survivors who were able to talk about their wartime experiences after the end of the war. Others found it too difficult, condemning themselves to continuous silence. But as time passed, even they have begun to open up and tell their stories. To help survivors express themselves as effectively as possible, the International School for Holocaust Studies conducts seminars teaching them how to give testimony, initiated by Holocaust survivor Hana Greenfield, and supported by a grant from the German Foundation For Remembrance, Responsibility and Future.

“I returned to my house in Paris after the war, but the reality of our lives was very difficult,” explains survivor Ariella Flass. “As a 12-year-old child who had spent four years during the war in an institution for abandoned children, I didn’t understand that I had ‘survived.’ All I knew was my father had deserted me and hadn’t saved my mother.” Her prolonged inability to talk about what happened during the war vanished after a seminar she attended at the School six years ago.

“We try to help survivors emerge from behind the scenes—from the videotape, the books, the academic discussions—to take center stage and tell their story without any intermediary,” says Moshe Harel-Sternberg, a group and individual psychotherapist who facilitates the workshops. Survivor Aliza Zeltzer participated in a seminar held in March: “When I arrived in Israel people didn’t believe there had also been a Holocaust in Libya,” she explained. “I came to Yad Vashem to learn how to tell the story so people will listen and understand.” Devora Weinstein, who also participated in the seminar, adds: “The workshops allow us to look at our stories from another angle.”

First-person testimony
For the past 12 years, Chana has accompanied delegations of students to Poland. She emphasizes the importance of giving first-person testimony: “In another few years, when the survivors are longer around, students who met us will be able to say, ‘I heard Chana Bar-Yesha in Auschwitz and other survivors tell us what happened to them in Auschwitz.’ It instills a deeper awareness of the Holocaust among the youth, and helps them fight Holocaust denial.”

Asher Oud survived the horrors of Auschwitz-Birkenau, arriving in Israel with a youth group. “I didn’t talk about the Holocaust for over 50 years. Then, following a visit to Poland, I told my story for the first time. I decided to work for a more dignified memorial to the victims. In light of all the Holocaust denial, I came to the conclusion that anyone who could talk—must! The impact is very different; I see and hear its effect in the responses from soldiers and the students.”

First person testimony is also a means to pass on important educational concepts: “When I tell students that they made us undress completely, it is not just an illustration of what we went through,” says Israel. “I talk to them about the offense to human dignity, the insult and the humiliation, and how women especially may feel in such a situation.” Chana adds: “For a while in Auschwitz I refused to eat the grimy soup they gave us, which made my mother afraid they would separate us during a selektion. I was 12 years old, and I didn’t understand why I had to eat such a thing,” she explains. “With all the pain exposed to my audience, I add the grief I caused my mother, and talk to them about the importance of honoring your parents.”

Ariella describes the way she engages young Israeli soldiers: “I also had a uniform during the war,” she tells them. “But it was the uniform of an institution for abandoned children. You wear a uniform that represents something that belongs to you: the state.”

Continuing to tell
During his visit to Poland, Asher decided to erect a fitting monument to his murdered compatriots. “I felt that if God had protected me—if only to put up the monumnet—it was worth staying alive,” continues Asher. “But for the past 12 years I’ve also been accompanying delegations of youth and soldiers. That is my victory. Apparently I remained alive in order to tell my story to the next generations, and this is my main purpose in life.” Of everything that keeps him busy, Yad Vashem is his priority. “The trips to Poland are difficult for a man of my age, but I continue despite the physical challenge.”

Israel adds: “I tell my story out of the clear recognition that the youth and the future generations need to know what happened. This is my duty to my friends who are no longer here.”