Third place high school: Annie Bortz
Annie Bortz, a junior at Mead High School, took third place in the 10th annual Eva Lassman Creative Writing Contest. Here is her essay:
How to, Not Whether
Heroes of the Holocaust: Refik Veseli
In the photo, he stands, slightly hunched, protective, his arm around the shoulder of a little boy. The boy leans into him, sucking his thumb, looking out into the distance. He has a smile on his small face and seems content and somewhat pensive. Smiling easily at the camera, the teenager’s expression is without a hint of how Adolph Hitler has brought horror and death into their corner of the world. The young man’s name is Refik Veseli, and he risked his life to save the boy.
April in Novi Sad, Serbia, is balmy. It was probably on such a day that Gavriela Mandil and her children, Gavra and Irena, arrived home. They stopped in their tracks upon seeing Mosa, Gavriela’s husband, hurrying towards them. Something was wrong; the Gestapo was searching for them. Leaving all their possessions, they fled. Only three months later more than 800 Jews were murdered in this town, the bodies carelessly thrown into the Danube River.
They did not stay free long. Soon they were imprisoned with hundreds of other Jews. 3-year old Irena remembered the Nazis marching into the prison, offering a sinister solution to the overcrowded conditions. They took half the prisoners. “It was something terrible, breaking up families. There was crying and screaming. We knew they weren’t coming back.” Fortunately, Mosa’s willingness to take the soldiers’ pictures had made him popular, and he convinced the guards to transport the other prisoners to Albania to relative freedom. They left only months before Germany took control of Kosovo, killing half of its Jewish inhabitants, narrowly missing death once again.
The Mandils eventually ended up in Albania. Mosa found work, and it was there he met the boy in the photo. Sixteen-year-old Refik Veseli came from a large Muslim family. When conditions worsened, Refik realized the severity of the situation. He begged his parents to allow the Mandils to seek refuge in their mountain home. Decades later, Refik told Gavra “It wasn’t whether to save the Jewish family, but how. How to move them and how to save them. How to, not whether.” Although being caught was certain death, the Veselis took the Mandils to their town on donkeys, slipping through the nights and hiding in caves during the days.
Life during the war was not easy. The looming cloud of discovery hovered above. Bombs almost destroyed the house, and Nazis roamed the neighborhood. Mosa feared discovery. Huddling together, he said to his son, “Soon the Germans will come to take us away. When the war is over take Beba. Don’t let go of Beba’s hand. You’re her big brother; you have to take care of her.” Recalling this in his video testimony, Gavra’s voice wavered. But the worst never happened. Despite hardship and danger, like many other Albanian Muslims, the Veselis believed in caring for others in need. Because of their strength, the Mandils were not part of Hitler’s final solution.
The Talmud says “And whoever saves a life, it’s as if he has saved an entire world.” As a teenager, having an impact on the world sometimes seems impossible. One lacks influence, authority, and resources. But Refik was able to make a difference although he had none of these powerful commodities. By marshalling courage and offering asylum, he and his parents saved the lives of an entire family.
Perhaps the most important lesson Refik teaches us, however, is one can only judge another on his humanity—not culture, religion, ethnicity, gender, or ability. Refik was exemplary, and he proved religion should not be a barrier between humans. Although religions can separate us, we must learn from our differences and grow as humans together. All major religions have a concept of the Golden Rule. The Talmud states, “What is hateful to you, do not do to others. This is the entire law; all the rest is commentary.” The Mahabharata says “This is the sum of duty: do not do to others what would cause pain if done to you. The New Testament: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” The Qur’an: “We have created you from male and female and made you nations and tribes, that you may know one another.” And the Dalai Lama, representing Buddhists, has summed it up well by saying, “Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.”
Refik Veseli died in 2001. His horror upon learning about the Darfur genocide against the ethnic Muslim black Sudanese can only be imagined. Daoud Hari was one of the victims. He first encountered violence at thirteen. Militants attacked his village, and he remembers “the world lit up and I saw men flying in pieces above me.” As a young adult, Daoud had a choice: he could take up a gun and fight back, or he could help in other ways. He used his English skills instead to translate thousands of stories of survivors to prove genocide was happening. If fate had allowed Refik to meet Daoud Hari, I believe he would have found a kindred spirit. Like Refik, Daoud was young and lacking in influence, authority, and resources, in fact, even more so than Refik. He was penniless, without a home. However, he knew stopping genocide was something bigger than him. Helping people recall their humanity was what mattered. “When others are suffering around you, your own suffering leaves your head,” he says. “All you can do is help them.” It is in these two men’s abiding codes of honor where we find true love and compassion.
Our story ends with another photo. Six people are walking side by side down a city street. Refik is there, staring at the camera, indomitable. Gavra, who walks in front of his father, cradles a bottle of wine, looking down with a carefree smile. It is Liberation Day, and perhaps they are on their way to a celebration. Mosa’s smile is the widest, filled with immense relief. There is a group energy here; they are a tour de force. Elated. They are free.