YAR - SOVIET MONUMENT"
the end of the subway line is the stop for Babi Yar - The train
empties the stop previous - a realization as to why the events
at Babi Yar were possible - no one went there - no one would
passengers on the subway did not look anything like my family -
angular jaws, sharp noses, round heads, light eyes, thin and
tall. These were the descendents of the lucky - or what I
fear, descendents of the ones who allowed and watched it all
are no mourners here - only ourselves and a circle of gypsy women
begging for money. People walk across the lawns - the probable
pathways to death - without a thought as to what occurred here 6
for some reason, I don't think anyone cares.
the Soviet monument, a bronze-like mess filled with Soviet
masculinity, you take a cement path - past the Metro to the
first monument dedicated to the "children who were shot at
Babi Yar, 1941". The only acknowledgement that the victims
were Jewish is a subtly sculpted yamakah on one of the figures - so slight, so obviously obscured.
path is long and one becomes anxious as to whether the menorah
monument has been missed. Mothers and grandmothers are taking
walks with prams. We stop to ask where the Menorah Monument is
and the people do not know. I take a deep breath - it
suddenly dawns on me that for the current inhabitants of the
park, the space is just that, a park, with a soccer field.
The very reason this location was put on the map for me, is
merely incidental to them.
very old man in his 80's, 90's walks past. Where I would
normally avert my eyes at the appropriate distance, I look
straight into his gray eyes for some sign of
remorse. He was 20 or 30 when at all happened. What
would have been his role? I shudder.