Self - Historian:
How long were you in concentration camps?
Heinz F.:
Altogether? I added it up once. I think eight and a quarter years.
Self - Historian:
What did you do when you got back?
Heinz F.:
When I came home? I worked in the family store that my brother was running. My father had already died.
Self - Historian:
Did you tell your brother or mother what happened in the camps?
Heinz F.:
I never spoke with my mother about it. I could have talked to my father, but...
Self - Historian:
Why not?
Heinz F.:
Shame. My mother never said anything. It's all about patiently carrying one's burden.
Self - Historian:
Shame, about what?
Heinz F.:
My mother? You mean my mother? Maybe it was from compassion, so she wouldn't offend me or make it even harder for me. Not even one word from her.
Self - Historian:
Today, it is hard to imagine, that you survived these horrible years, and came back and...
Heinz F.:
Couldn't talk to anybody about it? Yes, I never spoke to anyone about it.
Self - Historian:
Would you have liked to talk to someone?
Heinz F.:
Maybe, maybe with my father.
[breaks down and cries]

Self - Historian:
And later, could you speak with others?
Heinz F.:
Never. Nobody wanted to hear about it. If you would just mention one of those words, "Leave me alone with this stuff. It's over now and done with." Now for me too - it's all over. In September, I'll be 93. Thick skin, no?

Film

Paragraph 175 (2000)

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