Yesterday in Prague we saw the buildings where Kafka lived, went to school and worked. One high point for me was visiting the New Jewish Cemetery in the suburb of Strasnice. In this damp, green, wooded place Kathi stood with one arm around Kafka's tombstone and told us how Dora collapsed on his grave the day of his funeral, & June 11, 1924. In a solemn procession, my friend Martin and I followed our other travel companions in laying stones on the grave for remembrance, as is the custom there.
Kathi at Kafka's grave by KPBS, on Flickr
But then Kathi livened up the moment by demonstrating how she had climbed over the locked cemetery gate during her first visit in 1985, when the Czech Republic was still under communist rule and the consequences for her research could have been grim. This gate is probably 10 feet tall, made of iron and equipped with spikes to guard against just exactly what she was doing. When she jumped back down, we laughed and cheered. I think Kafka would have been delighted.
Another favorite stop was the Kafka Museum , where the creators have presented the exhibits in surreal ways as if they had seen right into the mind of this enigmatic author. We looked down on some photographs through water; others balanced on piles of rock. Some documents lay behind screens. One projection display put our shadows into the action. Aisle after aisle of glass filing cabinets re-created Joseph K's "endless office." A glass case filled with photos of Dora credited Kathi's research, and her book was for sale in the museum shop. We all felt as if we were traveling with a rock star.
Today's experiences have been more sobering. On the daylong trip by motor coach from Prague to Krakow we stopped in Bedzin to see the castle in whose shadow Dora had grown up. Along the way Kathi pointed out the street where Dora lived in the same building with her father's suspender factory -- now just a grassy empty lot. As we rode on, Kathi read to us from her book, Kafka's Last Love , about how Dora's father had taken her to Krakow to attend a Jewish school, out of reach of Polish feminists, and about how instead Dora became an independent, politically aware young woman who eventually broke with her father altogether.
Kathi also read a passage about Dora's half-sister, Sara, who survived the concentration camps only to find that most of her family was dead and their home had been confiscated by new owners who slammed the door in her face. Not 10 minutes after Kathi stopped reading and closed the book the bus rolled through Olkusz and past a wall on which the words "Anty Jude" had been spray-painted. Next to that ugly phrase was the picture of a Star of David dangling from a hangman's noose. In this part of the world that is filled with reminders of man's inhumanity to man, here was evidence that the nightmare still isn't over.
Tomorrow's activity is a trip to Auschwitz. Originally I hadn't planned to take part. I've read enough books and seen enough movies to know exactly what happened there. But with all that I've learned in the past few days and in the desperate hope that this particular chapter of history never repeats itself, I feel drawn to make the pilgrimage. Besides, Taylor Peterson, at 14 the youngest member of our traveling party, has been studying the events of World War II in school and feels compelled to make the visit. I figure if she can be brave enough to go, then I can, too.
Respectfully submitted by Glenda Winders, a proud member of the Kafka Project's Magical Mystery Literary History Tour .
NEXT: Taylor Peterson, age 14, the youngest member of the Kafka Project's Magical Mystery Literary History Tour, reports on the concentration camp at Auschwitz.
