September 14, 1991
Dear people of the future,
My name is Esther Henrik; I was 9 years old when the war started between Poland and the German Nazis. My parents died in a fire set by the Nazis that burned almost our entire town. A very close friend of my father sent me and my little brother to live with our uncle in a small village in southern Poland; he said it would be safer for us to stay there. But the war continued.
We lived in that village for a year. Throughout this year, lots of stories came along; stories about how Jewish people were treated in other towns, and stories about “concentration camps”. But people here didn't care about all that; they lived their lives like if the war was nothing to concern them, and they hoped that war would end before it reaches them. Until, one day, it was my uncle’s birthday. We made a little party for him, we invited every family member, and friend we knew, or what was left of them. It was a sunny spring day. We were gathering outside. Everyone was laughing and enjoying their time. Then, suddenly, a group of soldiers showed up, and insisted that we go with them. They told us that they will take us to the concentration camps to take care of us, and protect us from the war. They said that the soldiers will stay and guard our stores, schools, and houses from harm while we’re gone. They said that the war was almost over and we will not be gone for too long. They said they would give us jobs and treat us humanely. But all of those promises were lies, and regrettably, it was too late for us to figure it out.
After a very long, exhausting journey of shifting from truck to truck, and from one train to another, we finally arrived to what I thought was our final destination: The concentration camps. We were separated by the soldiers. Men standing on one line and children standing with women on another line. We were forced to give away everything we had, clothes, suitcases, jewelry....