Small talk про Трампа і життя без брендів: як українки виживають у Канаді й адаптуються до місцевого менталітету

During the Second World War, Ukrainian Anastasia Huley fled from forced labour for the Nazis, but they captured her and sent her to concentration camps. She miraculously survived and returned to Kyiv. Now, 80 years later, as an elderly grandmother, she is again seeking refuge, this time from Russian aggression. And she finds shelter... in Germany.

«I stopped being a human and became number 61369»

- During the mobilisation of young people for forced labour in Germany in 1943, I was told: if you do not go, we will take your mother instead and burn the house, - recalls Anastasia Huley. - I was 17 then, we lived in Pyriatyn, Poltava region. It was May, everything was blooming... I could not imagine working for the occupiers. Especially as my three brothers were fighting against them. So I decided to pretend to comply, then escape.

The youth were gathered at the central square, and I studied the situation, step by step retreating into the crowd on the pavement and quietly blending in. I hid with acquaintances for a few weeks and then decided to flee to another region. But first, I stopped at home for supplies... Before dawn, they came for me. And it was not strangers - it was the husband of my second cousin, who was the secretary of the village council at the time. He betrayed me. Later, he forged some documents about assisting Ukrainian partisans, and when our authorities wanted to punish him after the war, the court released him thanks to those papers.

Tetyana Pastushenko: How did you end up in Auschwitz?

Anastasia Huley: At first, they took us to Katowice to unload wagons of slag, and I had only one thought in my head: «How do I escape?» A map of Poland hung at the station, and I traced the quickest route to Lviv. Then, one day, a downpour began. The guards brought us inside to wait out the rain in a building where we kept shovels. Along with us were some Frenchmen, including a young man my age - handsome, like an angel from a painting. It was impossible not to stare, so even the guards were captivated. Meanwhile, I quietly slipped out, crawled under trains, and escaped. I fled with four other girls.

On the way, we encountered different people. Some offered us shelter and a place to stay, while others grabbed pitchforks, shouting that Ukrainians should be killed for Volyn. In Rzeszów, we were eventually caught by a gendarme and ended up in a local prison.

The worst part was witnessing the fates of Polish women who had hidden Jews. Once, they brought Helena to our cell - beaten to within an inch of her life. She could not move, was covered in blood, but whispered that she had secretly hidden Jews without her family knowing. The Germans found out and arrested her husband instead. She went to the prison, begging him to forgive her. Then they arrested and beat her as well. Later, they executed both of them...

One day, they loaded us into a cattle wagon and took us somewhere. It turned out that as punishment for escaping, we were sent to the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp.

They immediately sat me on a chair, cut off my long braids, and tattooed a number on my arm. I did not understand where I was, was in shock, and from this, I did not even feel pain. From that moment, my life changed forever: I stopped being a human and became number 61369.

It takes very little time in Auschwitz to lose your sense of the world. Thousands of people in striped uniforms, all frightened, depressed, and constantly tense. The most horrifying thing, which makes you almost forget yourself, is the streams of people led to the crematorium daily. There were few Jews in the barracks, as they were mostly destroyed immediately. Between the men’s and women’s sections of the camp, a road led from the gates to the forest where the crematoria operated. Day after day, you would see Jews being taken off the train and sent there in transit. They walked submissively, and among them were children - some with dolls, others with balls...

TP: What did you do in the concentration camp?

‍AG: Every day, from morning until six in the evening, we were forced to work. We were given various tasks: digging, building. Sundays were our only day off. This meant we would not be fed all day and had to remain hungry.

Once, we were sent to scatter fertiliser across a field. I reached into a sack with my hand and found ash containing bone fragments. It was crematorium ash. My hands instantly went numb...

TP: Did the Nazis manage to crush your will or your internal resistance to the situation?

AG: At the beginning, we made one attempt. They ordered us to dig a trench around the camp as tall as a person. Later, they filled it with water and electrified it to prevent escapes. Mud, clay, rain, and above our heads - «Schnell, arbeiten!». So we rebelled. We agreed at night that we would not go to work.

In the morning, we stayed in the barracks. The female overseer came running, followed by Commandant Rudolf Höss. He yelled and shot at the ceiling. In the yard, we were lined up, ordered to kneel with our hands behind our heads. Commandant Höss walked along the row, striking every fifth girl (there were about a hundred of us) with all his strength in the chest. That was the end of our resistance...

TP: Presently, hundreds of Ukrainians are in Russian captivity, and each prisoner searches for something to hold onto to keep from giving up or losing their mind. What kept you going and gave you strength in Auschwitz?

AG: Dreams. There was no news, no relationships. Only dreams. While working, we shared with one another what we had dreamt. We also often thought about food - such dreams saved us too. There in the camp, we swore to one another that when we were free, we would be satisfied with a single outfit, as long as there was always bread on the table.

As for dreams, I once dreamt that I was walking through the camp and saw the sun rising to my left. But as soon as it appeared, it immediately set again. I found myself in terrifying darkness. After some time, I saw the sun rise again, but this time from the other side. It was strange, but it became warm - very warm. That dream turned out to be prophetic.

In the winter of 1944-1945, we waited for our forces to liberate us. Battles for Krakow were already underway when suddenly the Germans took us somewhere... It turned out to be the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. In Auschwitz, I thought nothing could be worse than that camp. It turned out there was.

TP: Do you remember how you were liberated?

AG: The English freed us on 15 April 1945. But I no longer had the strength to rejoice...

After a few months in Bergen-Belsen, I became a living corpse. They threw us into a barrack without window panes or mattresses on the bunks. The windows and doors were boarded up. When the barrack was opened after four days, they were very surprised that we had not died without food or warmth. They had intended to kill us, as they did not know what to do with us.

Later, a typhus epidemic broke out in the camp. The dead lay everywhere, and no one even bothered to remove them. In the barracks, you could hear: «Marusya, move over! Oh, you are already dead»… Those you befriended yesterday died today... and there was no strength left to mourn them.

One day, I too fell ill. I collapsed onto the floor of the barrack. But a kind soul, Maria, dragged me out of the barrack. Whispering: «You must keep walking with whatever strength you have left; if you lie down, they will think you are dead and throw you onto the pile of corpses.» What saved me was that one of the girls had somehow stolen a piece of bread from the Germans and shared it with me.

When the liberators entered the camp, I just waved my hand. No reaction at all. Commandant Kramer was tasked with loading the dead bodies onto trucks, but I did not even have the strength to approach him and tell him what I thought of him.

Afterwards, the English took care of us for several weeks, feeding us back to health. But when I returned to my homeland, I was called a traitor. My classmates refused to befriend me because of the number tattooed on my arm. It was only when I enrolled at an institute in Kyiv that true student life began - with exams, falling in love, and a wedding. My husband was a soldier and had been wounded. Later, we had children, and life spun on.

The only thing I could never regain was dancing. Before the war, I danced a lot, but afterwards, I could not. It became too difficult...

When history reversed

After the war, Anastasia Huley returned home «grey-haired, shaven, a skeleton» but with a determined mind to continue her education. For more than 50 years, she has been an active participant in the movement of former prisoners of Nazi concentration camps. For the past 10 years, she has led the Ukrainian Organisation of Anti-Fascist Resistance Fighters, defending their interests in the political sphere, organising additional medical and social aid, and working to overcome social isolation.

Could she ever have imagined that she would have to endure another war, hiding from missile strikes in the basement of her house, now from the Russians?

In March 2022, 96-year-old Anastasia Huley, along with her children, found refuge in Germany, in the village of Bad Kösen - a country where she had once experienced so much grief and suffering in her youth.

TP: Anastasia Vasylivna, how did you decide to go to Germany?

AG: This was not my first trip to Germany. After 1995, I visited frequently - to Bergen-Belsen, Berlin, Munich, and Dachau. I repeatedly visited Magdeburg and the city of Merseburg in Saxony-Anhalt, where our German partners live and work. Together, we held many meetings for young people in schools. I was not going into the unknown. And most importantly, I was not afraid of the Germans.

During numerous meetings and my speeches, people ask me what I feel towards the Germans now.

I remember specific individuals who did evil. But I, like other former prisoners, do not seek revenge. Examine us with any X-ray - you will not find it. Those who survived the camps feel as though they were blessed

We understand that the people then were driven and deluded by «-isms»: fascism, communism.

TP: Do the Germans feel any guilt or responsibility for what the Nazis did in Ukraine?

AG: It is evident that many older people feel a sense of repentance. In this village, where we lived, Bad Kösen, everyone treated us very kindly. When I went out for walks, each person would try to offer something from their garden - grapes, plums. It felt as though the entire community was looking after us.

Young people, to whom I told my story, were simply amazed. I always remember how, in 2013, an eighth-grader from a German school gave me a pair of warm socks. «My grandmother knitted these for you,» she said, her eyes filled with tears. And I cried too, and all the girls around us were sniffing quietly.

These were students from Mücheln, with whom I visited the memorial at the former Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. This school earned the honorary title of «School Without Racism - School of Civil Courage», and I became their mentor. We have maintained a friendly relationship ever since. In my honour, they planted an apple tree in the schoolyard and recently sent me a photo of the red apples it bore.

TP: Did you believe that Russia would attack Ukraine? Were there any premonitions?

AG: I did not hear, did not think, did not even dream of it. I could not imagine that Russia would attack so savagely, just take and start destroying everything. Ukraine is in its way.

I remember my whole life, at various political meetings, America was criticised - it always was in their way. They forgot that the famous Soviet pilots of the 1930s set records flying American planes. What were they flying on - our plywood? Such hatred in those Russians, such disdain for human life.

TP: Anastasia Vasylivna, in the pandemic year of 2020, you organised the fundraising, production, and unveiling of a monument to the residents of Zhuliany, killed in bombings on June 22nd 1941. And now, in February 2022, your Zhuliany is getting bombed again…

‍AG: Yes. My children and I sat in the cellar for a while. We have a large basement in the garage. We put three beds there, took the cat, and sat for a couple of nights. No electricity, the phone did not work - we knew and heard nothing. It was frightening to sit locked up. So, we came out.

My daughter and son started persuading me to leave. I did not want to be a burden. But then I thought, if something happened, who would be to blame? So, I agreed. First to Lviv, then to Poland, and from there to Germany. They welcomed us very warmly there. They gave us separate rooms on the ground floor of a house where a family with a three-year-old boy lived. We became so close to them, like family. Now that I am back in Ukraine, we sometimes call each other.

A diary entry from 1 March 2022: «Anastasia Huley, a 96-year-old former Auschwitz prisoner, has spent five days in the basement of her own house in Kyiv. But yesterday, the electricity went out, and she agreed to her children's and grandchildren’s pleas to leave the city by car and reach the western border. I do not know how they will manage. It is dangerous to stay, but a long journey during wartime is no better, especially at her age.»

TP: How was life in Germany during all that time?

‍AG: Even before the coronavirus pandemic, Mike Reichel (Director of the Centre for Political Education of Saxony-Anhalt - Edit.) began working on a book about me. And in July 2022, this book was published in German. I was constantly giving speeches at the book’s presentations, and my schedule was very tight. Over the year, I probably had about 50 meetings.

TP: Did many people come to your meetings?

AG: Many - both Germans and Ukrainians. When we held meetings in churches, entire communities would come. I was pleased to learn that there are communities in Germany where Ukrainian songs are sung, and Ukrainian culture is being developed.

I remember one meeting coincided with the Shevchenko Days. I recited Shevchenko’s «Testament» from memory, while Lyuba Danilenko read the German translation. We were applauded for a long time afterwards. «Rise up, break your chains, and with the enemy’s evil blood, sprinkle the freedom you have gained!»

Once, at a congress of the German Federation of Trade Unions, I even met German Chancellor Olaf Scholz. I managed to tell him to provide more weapons for Ukraine. At every meeting, I prefer not to talk about myself. I appeal for help and support for Ukraine.

TP: Why did you decide to return to Ukraine?

AG: You know, I was having problems with my blood pressure. Every day brought a new challenge, and my blood pressure would rise to 240. The ambulance came for me, and I was hospitalised. Things got better in Kyiv. But now my legs cannot carry me anywhere. I can get to the table in my room because there is something to hold onto, but that is all. I do not even remember the last time I went outside. I am afraid of falling. Who would lift me out of the yard, and with what bulldozer (laughs)?

TP: How do you deal with these alarms and shellings? Are you hiding in your basement again? How do you cope?

AG: No, I no longer hide. When we returned, we thought there would be no more shelling. But, alas, it continues.

Everyone is struggling now, but there is no point in whining. It is fine to grieve, but whining helps no one. Once in Magdeburg, a German woman asked me how we, witnesses of the Second World War, continue living now that war has returned to Europe. Everything we fought against is happening again. I told her that we survived Hitler, we survived Stalin, so we must survive Putin as well.