Reminder "Dinner!" Elsa called, wiping her flour-caked hands on a towel. The television was on as she stepped into the living room, the six o’clock news host reading teleprompted headlines. "Another grim day in the Darfur region of the Sudan," she said. "Fifty-six bodies were uncovered in a mass grave, the third found in the past two months. This string of discoveries is only the beginning of what the UN has called an ethnic cleansing by the Sudanese government assisted by the Janjaweed. In other news…" Elsa’s grandson shrugged, turning off the television, his face expressionless. She shook her head in disbelief as David brushed past her to sit at the kitchen table. "Grandma, come on," he said impatiently. "Did you hear that?" Elsa exclaimed, "2005 and ethnic cleansing is still occurring. How…" She was at a loss for words. "Yeah I know. So I was thinking about going to see a movie tonight with this girl I met the other day," he replied nonchalantly. "David, this is a big deal. The Sudanese government is killing entire villages simply because of their race," "Yeah, it’s uh pretty sad I guess…but you know, it’s not the first time something like this has happened. Could you pass the butter? This bread’s a little dry," Dry bread. Elsa’s thoughts flashed back to 1946. It was cold, bitter. Her fingers were white and numb as she stood in line with the other girls. Starving as she was, she felt nothing; she was accustomed to the emptiness of her stomach after seven months in Buna. She moved forward a few more steps and chunk of bread was shoved at her. She chewed it slowly, savoring every bite. The bread was dry. "Grandma, the butter?" David interrupted. "Are you ok?" "Yes, yes...sorry. I was just…here’s the butter." She fingered the sleeve of her blouse pensively. Silk. Another flashback. She was curled up in her bunk unable to sleep for the shivers that racked her thin body. An older girl had stolen her blanket before she had even lain down, and after a long day of work she was unable to put up a fight. Suddenly a woman bent down next to her and slipped her a rolled up blanket, then hurried away nervously. Elsa recalled wrapping the too-short burlap blanket around her, thinking it felt like silk. That night Elsa dreamed she was back in the camp and woke up in a cold sweat. She hadn’t had these nightmares in years. Why now? Suddenly she recalled the news story she had heard earlier that evening. A tear slowly rolling down her face, Elsa realized that things had not changed as much as people seemed to think. The holocaust that she had lived through was repeating itself. She threw off her comforter and walked across the hall to her grandson’s room, chilled by the cold floor under her bare feet. "David, I want to talk to you," she said. While most people knew she had been there, she had never told anyone about her time in the camps. She realized now that keeping quiet was the worst thing she could do. Although her story could never do justice to the people she lived with in those camps, perhaps it could help to prevent it from happening again.
Reminder Elizabeth Benzie
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