And not very far from there, stands the Stasi Museum.
I enter their cells, the interrogation rooms. I come from the
perspective of a Cuban who was detained in the same place, where a
window looking outward becomes an unattainable dream. One cell was lined
with rubber, the scratch marks of the prisoners can still be seen on
its walls. But more sinister seeming to me are the offices where they
ripped — or fabricated — a confession from the detainees. I know them,
I’ve seen them. They are a copy of their counterpart in Cuba, copied to a
T by the diligent students from the Island’s Ministry of the Interior
who were taught by GDR State Security. Impersonal, with a chair the
prisoner can’t move because it is anchored to the floor and some
supposed curtain behind which the microphone or video camera are hidden.
And the constant metallic noises from the rattling of the locks and
bars, to remind the prisoners where they are, how much they are at the
mercy of their jailer.
Yoani Sanchez/Jorge García Vázquez
Foto: Gedenkstätte Berlin-Hohenschönhausen
http://generacionyen.wordpress.com/2013/05/10/from-the-jewish-museum-to-the-stasi-museum/
No comments:
Post a Comment