| When         
                I was planning this trip three years ago, one of the hardest        
                decisions I had to make  regarded visiting Babi Yar. I was        
                not sure if our plans should include the site of one of the biggest        
                execution sites in Holocaust history. I had to take this issue        
                into consideration, and decide if our trip was to be one of sightseeing        
                or was it to be a pilgrimage. Our focus was to find information        
                about our ancestors and any leads on our genealogical roots.        
                However, I wondered if the visit to Babi Yar fit our purpose. I        
                also knew that this excursion would not be a comfortable one at all.         
                It would have been quite easy to simply         
                omit visiting the site by justifying that no-one from our family was         
                victimized by this incident - that we know of.        
                 And        
                yet, it may give me an even harder impact on my conscience later        
                if I were to completely ignore Babi Yar.  I knew our visit        
                to the sight would contribute only remembrance for the 33,771        
                Jewish victims. But it would ease my guilt, just to carry a        
                flower to the place and spend some time for silent        
                prayer.          
                Since        
                discussion about the holocaust is generally avoided, I had no        
                idea how much knowledge Heidi had of Babi Yar.  And I        
                needed her help to decide if we should visit the site  or        
                not during our trip.        
                I        
                knew of a few web-sites which had very graphic photos of the        
                executions but also, very clear documentation on the happenings        
                of those days in September 1941. I did not want to upset my wife        
                with this issue unless it is very necessary.        
                About        
                three weeks before our  trip I sat down with Heidi and        
                updated her with my plan to visit Babi Yar on the first day of        
                arrival at Kiev. She did not object at all.           
                 "I        
                am not planning on having fun on this trip," she        
                said.  "We have a responsibility to pay respect to the        
                victims."        
                I        
                then offered to show her some of the photos available on the        
                web-sites.  It was very difficult for me to watch them        
                again for I had already seen them twice -  once by myself        
                and a second time with Aaron, our son. Both times, I became extremely        
                emotional and could not help weeping.        
                To        
                defend myself, at this point, I must state that I am not naive        
                in terms of knowing human capabilities to engage in violent        
                acts, for I, myself, experienced the genocide in China during my        
                childhood. Of course its scale was not as big as what the Jews        
                went through.  And yet, I know how the human body feels        
                when it dies. My infant sister starved to death on my        
                back.  I carried my dead sister, still on my back,         
                for a few days walk to evacuate the city.  I became        
                accustomed to walking through a street piled with hundreds of        
                abandoned corpses as I sold boxes of cigarettes to Russian        
                soldiers.  In fact, I still remember the odor of those dead        
                bodies.  Ironically, I lost my sense of smell around that        
                time; possibly my body had refused to smell that which it should        
                not anymore.        
                Even        
                having experienced all that I had as a mere child, I could not        
                handle viewing the photographs of Babi Yar.         
                Heidi did not cry when she reviewed those photos.  But her        
                face turned pale as if she struggled with an intense anger and frustration.         
                I heard her only say, "Why couldn't they have at least tried        
                to run away!?."        
                On        
                July 8, 2004, our second day in Kiev, Heidi and I left the Hotel        
                Dnipro, for the Metro station named  Dorohozhichy.         
                Accompanying us was Vlad, my student acting as our interpreter.        
                According to the information I studied, there should be four        
                monuments built at the site of the Babi Yar ravines.  My        
                initial plan was to start at the corner of Melnikovaya Street        
                and Dokterivska Street (by the old Jewish cemetery) and climb up        
                the hill to the ravine following the course of the "death        
                march" walked by the 33,771 Jewish Soviet citizens on the        
                morning of September 29, 1941.  At the last minute, I was        
                nervous that my old body would not be able to handle the walk -        
                so instead we took the subway.   Dorohozhichy Metro        
                station was situated between two monuments; one commissioned in        
                1976        
                by the Soviet government dedicated to the Soviet citizens who        
                died at Babi Yar and another built in 1991 by the Jewish        
                community memorializing the Jewish citizens who were executed.        
                Once        
                we exited        
                the Metro station we entered the park right behind the most        
                conspicuous looking bronze structure  - the monument built        
                by the Soviets.  Nearby we also found a small brown stone        
                monument recently built by the Jewish Heritage Community commemorating        
                the 60th anniversary.  Heidi and I spent some time clearing        
                the weeds at the foot of the stone which read a quote from        
                Ezekiel 37:14, "I will put my breath into you and you shall        
                live again."        
                A        
                group of Gypsies approached us while we viewed the the main bronze        
                monument (created by  M. Lysenko).         
                They just simply wanted some "Copeks (money)." Interestingly,        
                there was no mention of the Jewish victims in its inscription -        
                we thought this very odd.  We placed a bouquet and        
                proceeded to the other side of the park to locate the monument        
                dedicated to the Jewish children who were executed. The sculptor        
                V. Medvedev's bronze appeared to welcome all who entered the        
                park and  adequately reminded us of the sadness that once occurred        
                there.          
                The        
                hardest sight to visit was the last of the four monuments known        
                as "the Menorah Monument", commissioned by the Jewish        
                Heritage Community and placed at the crest of ravine where the        
                actual mass executions took place.         
                In        
                the past, Heidi and I had a rather strange past time of walking        
                through unknown cemeteries -  just to enjoy the quiet and        
                peaceful atmosphere and to imagine the types of lives the buried        
                may have lived.  And typically, we do feel a peace among the        
                graves. But, as we finally arrived at the Menorah Monument, I        
                found myself in the middle of a most uncomfortable        
                feeling.  As the woods rustled with the wind, I could hear        
                thousands of souls screaming -  and my heart ached. I could        
                not breath for a while.  I went into the woods following a        
                lightly worn path that lead me to a long, wide and winding ravine        
                and alone, I sat there for an hour, listening.  Heidi, too,        
                appeared to need to be alone.  Sitting at the crest of the        
                ravine, she wrote her thoughts in her notebook.        
                It        
                was one of the most unpleasant and emotional experiences I have        
                had in my life.  We left the last bouquet of        
                flowers at the base of the menorah and walked downhill to        
                Melnikovaya Street toward the Jewish cemetery going the opposite        
                direction of the death march.         
                -        
                Norimi and Heidi       
                  
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