Life As A Roma During The Second World War

Before I start this story, I should first explain that I'm what's considered to be a "late blooming" psychic. My gifts didn't appear with until I was about thirteen years old. I went to bed one night a normal girl and woke up the next morning seeing spirits. I'm serious, one hundred percent.

Around that time was when I first discovered my most recent past life, thanks to a spirit named Nikolaus. It came in the form of a dream -- a very detailed, in-depth dream. I remember I was standing in some sort of train station with a group of people I recognized as my family, though they didn't look like the family I have now. They looked Indian. (By Indian I mean from India, not Native American.) My father was tall and somewhat overweight with a thick black beard rimming his ruddy face. My mother beside him was small, slender beauty with striking green eyes. I called them Daye and Dat. I had twin brothers who were significantly older than myself. I "knew" that I was about 17 and they were close to 25. Their names were Adam and Abel. I myself was called Nadja. We were standing by train tracks, huddled together for warmth. It was late autumn, early winter and snow was threatening to fall.

Then, the scene shifted to a few years later. It was hot and sticky and yet again, I was standing near train tracks. However, my family wasn't with me. Instead, I was in a large crowd of people who were all presumably waiting to get on a train. I felt very agitated, very angry. There were dogs barking, children crying, and everywhere, people were talking. There were so many languages being spoken all around me. Even though I didn't understand most of them, I could hear their tones. Every voice was fearful and tense. We didn't know where we were going and we didn't like it.

The train pulled up and everybody got on. It wasn't a normal passenger train. It was one used for transporting livestock. You could tell because there was still straw and filth inside. There were men in brown coats that helped us get in. They spoke German, a language I barely understood and didn't like. It was too rough on the ear, too guttural. I was put in a red car in the front corner by the door, packed in with far too many people. We couldn't move or sit down. We were in that train for perhaps two or three days. I can't be sure because I lost track of time.

I will never forget what I saw exiting that car. There was a giant tower, the biggest I had ever seen looming against the ominous grey sky. I was at the infamous death camp, Auschwitz-Birkenau. We were separated into two lines through a lengthy process. I had been in the "system" long enough that I understood if you went to the right, you were going to be killed. I wasn't examined like the other prisoners. The head officer took one look at me and told me to go to the right. The soldier at his side studied me for a long time in a way that unsettled me before it dawned on me. I knew him! He had recognized me. He was Nikolaus, one of my brothers' childhood friends.

Nikolaus examined my face, my eyes, my teeth, and my hands. He took note of the many callouses I had, most of which were from playing the cimbalom. Nikolaus and the head officer spoke for a while before finally coming to an agreement. I was allowed to step back into the line at the left. I was allowed to live.

As the accepted prisoners were being led through the camp, I was taken by Nikolaus to a separate area. My head wasn't shaved, nor was I given a tattoo or prisoner's uniform like the other people. I was sprayed with insecticide and led to a different part of the camp instead of the cell blocks. There was a cruel looking blonde woman who showed me to a room and left. Nikolaus explained briefly that he was sorry for the predicament I was in, but could think of no better alternative.

"This place is meant for death Nadja," he explained, "the work... It will kill you. The experiments will kill you. The people will kill you. As long as you're up here, you will be safe." Before I could ask him just what "here" was, he kissed my hands and left.

I soon found out that I had been placed in "Das KZ Bordell." (The camp brothel). I was allowed to wear civilian clothes, I had better food, and I worked a few hours in a garment repair shop during the early portion of the day. From about noon until 10 PM, I had to...well...you know.

Nikolaus was my most frequent visitor, though most of his visits weren't for my services. He was content with my companionship. One memorable event was when he brought me a gift. Before becoming an officer at Auschwitz, he had worked at an army base where he fixed tanks and other army vehicles. He was promoted in status when he fixed a radio and intercepted an Allied message. Now at Auschwitz, he had fixed a radio so that it would play music and smuggled it to me as a gift. My little room soon became a hiding place (of sorts) for Nikolaus. Whenever he had free time or was shirking duties, he would come and visit.

As one could imagine, somewhere along the line, Nikolaus fell in love with me. I daresay I returned the sentiment. However, it was quickly destroyed upon hearing a vicious lie (or rather half-truth) from one of the other brothel girls. Nikolaus had been caught doing "things" with three other women when he was supposed to be away on business. Nikolaus explained it to me (some 90 years later!) with a tinge of embarrassment. At that time, Hitler was promoting unmarried women to get pregnant and have healthy Ayrian babies for the Fatherland. There was a program where unwed women could be impregnanted by SS men (who were screened for a vast assortment of genetic problems prior to acceptance into the pary). Nikolaus was chosen by a few women and well... The rest is history.

Upon hearing that lie, my heart was broken. I was utterly convinced that he didn't love me because I was a Romani, a social dissident. In turn, I became very cold toward him. He and I fought a lot from that point on. I refused to let him come and see me. Finally, everything came to a boil. I was working in the garment shop when Nikolaus came in for routine inspection. He was making very snide comments toward me and the quality of my work and I finally had enough. I called him a long string of profane words in Russian, threw something at him, and told him I had found someone new (a lie). He snapped. Nikolaus came after me and struck me hard across the face. I fell to the floor, but he grabbed a handful of my hair and drug me across the shop to throw me outside. I landed hard on the ground and tried to get to my feet, but he had already grabbed his gun and had it aimed at my head.

"Stop! Stop! What are you doing?!" an unfamiliar voice called. Nikolaus looked up to see a lower ranking soldier named Kristopher running toward him. "Get a hold of yourself man! We are low on supplies. We can't afford to waste any! Wait until tomorrow, when the gas-wagons come!" Nikolaus could agree with that logic. He resolved to wait until tomorrow to "personally escort" me to my death. I escaped that night.

(I know it sounds unrealistic, but before you scoff, there were actually a LOT of escapes from Auschwitz, probably due to the fact that the prison was so large, the death toll was so high, and nobody really payed attention to the prisoners. From what I've read, there were about 300 escapes that are known of and documented and many more that are neither.)

To sum up the rest of this life, my escape with Kris was successful. We eventually settled in Belgium by the end of the war in Europe. Kris proposed to me in May of 1945. We were married in December and had twin boys named Alexandre and Bernard the following winter. Life was very peaceful for us. We basically lived off the land as my Romani ancestors had done for centuries. Bernard was often in and out of jail in his late teens and twenties. After he turned 23, we never heard from him again. Alexandre became a shopkeeper, got married, and had a daughter. As time went on, he too disappeared. Nikolaus died in November of 1970 as an alcoholic dishonored veteran. He was never tried at Nuremberg. Kris died in 1981 of a sudden heart attack. After his death, I was never the same. In the local village, I became known as the "crazy gypsy witch" who never left her house. Eventually, I died in 1990 of pneumonia.

In the current day, Kris and Nadja have both been reincarnated and live within 10 minutes of each other. Nikolaus is a spirit who has yet to cross over. Kristopher is now known as Shea and hasn't changed much since his last life. Nadja is now incarnated as a young Jewish woman named Kayla who loves history and wants to make sure that the story of WWII and the prison camps is never forgotten so it doesn't happen again.