Holocaust Character Scrapbook

For this project, we had to create our own character that lived during World War 2. I decided to create a person who was a concentration camp victim.

Introduction:
I am a survivor of the Holocaust. I have been through many years of turmoil and it has affected my life forever. I am now a different person because of the Holocaust and it is important for me to remember the past years, even though it may not be my number one memory to remember. I can remember what I and millions of other people experienced and how I was able to survive it. This is for everyone who survived the Holocaust to remember how strong they are for living through many hard years, and for the people who weren’t alive when this happened to learn about it. If this was forgotten, no one would remember the millions of people who died and who survived. I do not want to forget how I was able to stay alive for so many terrible years in concentration camps, and living after all of that was over. Creating this scrapbook has helped me heal. Remembering what I went through helps me realize how lucky I am to be alive today.

Profile:
My name is Orsolya Benedek and I am 45 years old. I have dark brown shoulder length hair and green eyes. I am 110 pounds and 5’6” tall. I was born on January 18, 1937. It has been 30 years since I was liberated from Auschwitz concentration camp in 1944. I now live in New York City and have lived here for 28 years. 2 years after I moved to New York I found out my father, Alfred, and my brother, Fabo, died in Auschwitz. My mother, named Judit, had died in Auschwitz, and I was right by her side when she passed on. I got married 5 years after I moved to New York, and now we have a daughter, Katherine. I still miss my family today, but my husband, Adam, and my daughter are the only family I have left and they mean the world to me. My husband and I are both Jewish and we still practice our religion. I am a big fan of writing and I enjoy taking walks around the city. I wrote my memoir of my life during the Holocaust, but I have chosen not to share my story with the world. I also enjoy food very much. Italian food is my favorite and I will eat it as often as I can. I have come to appreciate what I am able to eat nowadays knowing years back I was deprived of food. Every year my family and I visit my hometown Budapest, Hungary for a week. I catch up with my old friends, Anna and Ilona, and see how much the city has changed each year. We always write letters to each other and call each other up every once in a while. Although visiting Budapest brings up the bad memories I had in my last years I lived there, I can still relive my childhood and remember how much I loved living there.

Journal Entry #1:
It has been two weeks since we arrived at the Miskolc Ghetto. It must be May 22, 1940 since I remember we were taken from our home on May 8. This ghetto lies on János Arany Street. My family and I used to walk along this street often when I was young. I used to love walking down that street. Now I don’t think the same thing of it now that we are imprisoned on it. I miss my home very much. Even though I have become accustomed to sleeping on uncomfortable hay in close proximity with people I don’t know, I still feel very out of place. It is so dark and depressing seeing everyone’s face with fright in them and not knowing what is going to happen to us. Today two men were fighting over a piece of bread that one of them had. It was the only food that was left that they could find. Both of them were starving so they started acting like wild beasts battling for their food. Seeing them fight over a piece of bread like this made me scared. Everyone only had the food they brought with them, but most people ran out. I wondered about something I had never thought about before. Are the ugly men in uniforms going to starve us and see how long we can live here without food? Today I was told by my brother that we’re going to be sent away to these camps run by the soldiers. I asked him why they would send us there. He said we would get burned in an oven. I told him they couldn’t burn thousands of people alive…Or could they? He said we might have a chance to live, but young children and old people will most likely be put to death right away. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Would eleven years old be considered as a young child? Or does he mean really young kids? If what he’s saying is true then my grandparents will be killed by the human oven. I can just picture my grandmother being thrown into the pit of death. I try to get rid of that image immediately, but I can’t. I don’t want to believe my brother, but I just can’t help but to think that what he’s saying is true.

Journal Entry #2:
It is now January 1941 and I’m still at Auschwitz. Everyone was moved out of the Miskolc Ghetto in July to Auschwitz. If it’s still January (I’m not really sure what month it is, but I’m pretty sure it’s January because we have had the coldest weather all year), then my birthday is coming up, or it has already passed. I can just say that I’m twelve years old now. Well, it has now been about six months since we’ve arrived at Auschwitz. I’ve probably lost 25 pounds from lack of food and hours of working. My mother is much worse, though. She is just skin and bones and is dying. The doctor thinks she has some blood disease, but he’s not sure. Since she isn’t getting the proper nutrition she needs, her sickness keeps getting worse and she is sure to die anytime soon. I try to spend as much time as I can with her and take care of her, but I’m usually not allowed to. Just the other day I was beaten because I was late to roll call. I heard the announcement, but my mother was having a panic attack and I wanted to be with her incase she was going to die. When a soldier saw me in there he took me outside. He said, “A-1375 was not in line for roll call.” And because of that, I was beaten. The cuts on my back still haven’t healed and I’m still in pain everyday. I haven’t seen my own face for about a year or so now. I have completely forgotten what I look like, but I’m sure I look much different from the last time I looked in a mirror. I look around at every prisoner’s face and I see the same thing in each one of them; ghostlike faces with big gray eyes and no expression. Everyone looks alike with shaven heads and misery on their faces. I’m sure I look no different from them. It doesn’t even seem like we’re human beings anymore because of the alikeness of everyone and they way we have to act. We’re like robots who fulfill the master’s commands with silence. We’ve become nothing more than objects that mean nothing and that do what they are told. It amazes me how so many people can be forced to change into someone they don’t want to be.

Creative Entry:
This poem is about what I saw at Auschwitz. All I could see in everybody was...
FRIGHT
Fellow inmates are walking corpses
Rights that Jews once had have vanished
I only live one day at a time
Ghetto life showed me there was worse to come
The Human oven is my greatest fear every day
Time is running out

This poem is about what I saw many people experience in Auschwitz on my first night.

As smoke and human debris rise in the air
I can’t help but to think
That this is my greatest fear

Watching animals throw bodies into the flames
Makes me want to think
These animals are my greatest fear

As I stand before flames, looking at my death chamber
I can’t help but to think
That I have no more fear