A tree symbolizing new life

Spring is in the air down here around the eastern Mediterranean. One of the first signs of this is when the cyclamen flowers stand in full bloom. A flower I have never before been so fond of, until in recent years when I came across it in nature as a wildflower, instead of as a houseplant like I know it from Sweden. Here on the kibbutz, it grows, with its purple and white flowers, through the paved streets. The strong contrast to the asphalt makes the flowers almost look like they are standing there shouting out: “Spring Time!”

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Cyclamen may be beautiful and the plant that gives the most spring feelings, in the same way as white and blue thimbleweed flowers in Sweden, but considering that it was the International Holocaust Day just a few days ago, the most important and significant plant in the whole kibbutz is in my opinion the pomegranate tree in our garden. We planted this tree in memory of our friend Gitta Mozes, who lived just a stone’s throw from the apartment in the Mediterranean city of Netanya where we lived during our first years in the country. As soon as it became known in the area that we came from Sweden, we were introduced to Gitta. She spoke only Swedish and Romanian, not at all Hebrew, and her congregation were looking for someone who could be there for her, in a language she was familiar with.

Gitta, who was born and raised in Romania, came to Sweden with the white Bernadotte buses after she was rescued at the last minute from the gas chambers in the horrific concentration camps Auschwitz-Birkenau. Barely alive, the infamous camp doctor Mengele performed so many different experiments on her that she would never be able to carry any children. After living and working in Sweden for many years since she was rescued, she moved down to Israel when her husband passed away. Almost 80 years old, but still a very tough lady, she moved away from a country she had spent most of her life in, taking aboard a new language and country.

Although she was tough as few, the strong stomach pains from Mengele’s all experiments, not to mention all her nightmares from this time, would haunt her until her last day in life. To constantly remind ourselves of Gitta and her life-long struggle, and to never forget to keep telling her story, we planted the above-mentioned pomegranate tree in our garden. A beautiful and significant tree that symbolizes fertility and diversity. In other words, new life. Since Mengele made sure that she would never be able to give life to a new human being, this special tree will give new life in her name.

Unfortunately, neither a tree nor stories can save all the people who died during the Holocaust or who die today in countries like Syria. But it can at least make us think, question and challenge us to do small as well as bigger deeds, in order for this world to become a slightly better place to live.

For as Martin Luther King said; “The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people.”

(the above text is a translation of one of my weekly chronicles from the Swedish regional Newspaper; Blekinge Läns Tidning)

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