
I could see her hair billowing in the wind as she ran to greet us. A few inches taller, but with the same gentle smile, ten year old Albanian refugee, Daniella, lovingly ran into my arms. I remembered her from the previous summer, where we spent many nights together dancing and storytelling. Since that time, I have often wondered if I made a difference in her life.
In the summer of 2006, after turning sixteen, I was a work camper with the American Friends of Le College de Cevenol, an international center for refugee families, in Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, a charming French village. This program dates back to World War Two, when the local Pastor, André Trocmé, inspired the Huguenot civilians to save approximately five thousand Jewish children during the holocaust. I have lost many members of my family during the Holocaust. Knowing the connection this program has with saving Jewish children inspired me to travel to France to help sustain the work of this dedicated community. However, this trip was my first experience traveling alone to a foreign country and my concern was that I could comprehend the language but not yet speak it fluently. Once in Le Chambon, I worked side by side with the current refugees varnishing, painting, shoveling, and gardening to restore the collège.
After returning home, I expressed to the director of the camp, Professor Tito Craige, how this initial experience deeply affected me. Not only was the work gratifying, but I had so many new experiences that I felt redefined as a person. I had departed for France fearful of the unexpected, but returned as a more independent, motivated, and confident person and leader. After several conversations, Professor Craige offered me the position of Associate Director for the following summer. I was honored and accepted this rare opportunity to return to Le Chambon and reconnect with the current refugees with whom I longed to develop stronger relationships.
When I arrived the following summer 2007, the many refugees still living there recognized me and we happily reunited. I felt I had established a place for myself in this caring and compassionate community. As Associate Director, others depended on me to plan interesting and stimulating activities. The most profound experience for me was when I created time with the refugees to document their journeys to Le Chambon. Now being fluent in French, we spoke about the horrors and violence that surrounded them daily in their former countries, and the hardships which they are still struggling with. I respected every family member for the courage they embodied while living through such devastating situations. My heart ached for Daniella as she cried, "j'avais peur," "I was scared." I thought of the children in my family in Poland, in 1939, and how terrified they must have felt when the Nazi's came banging on their doors.
Since my childhood, I have heard stories about my great-grandparents and their families who were murdered in the Holocaust, but I did not know the details of their struggle. Listening to the refugees' stories and seeing their faces as they spoke to me made my deceased relatives come alive. Through Daniella's traumatic experiences I could now at least begin to understand what my relatives had faced. To help Daniella helped me feel like I was helping them, too. I learned that no matter how many heartaches or hardships a family undergoes they must stay together, physically, as it is for the refugees, or spiritually, as it is for me.
On the day of my departure Daniella cried. I cried too, for her and for my family. I held Daniella in my arms and whispered, "je vais retourner," "I will return."