The Girl In The White Headscarf
During a roundup in Eindhoven on Tuesday, May 16, 1944, a young girl was arrested. Three days later, she, along with her family, was deported from Camp Westerbork to Auschwitz-Birkenau in a freight car on a train.
Once the train in Westerbork was about to leave, the girl cautiously peeked out between the train doors. On that day, the Jewish prisoner Rudolf Breslauer was filming the transport under the camp commander's instructions. The girl's interest was piqued by the camera, leading Breslauer to capture her on film. 'Step away from the door, you might get stuck,' her mother yelled, prompting the girl to retreat back into the wagon. Shortly after, the train departed for Poland.
White headscarf
After the Second World War ended, Breslauer's film footage resurfaced, featuring a memorable scene of a Jewish girl cautiously peering out of the train. Lasting for just seven seconds, the image captured her youth and the white headscarf she wore, but her identity remained a mystery.
The image of the young girl became widely recognised as "The girl with the headscarf" over time. After journalist Aad Wagenaar saw the footage, he became fascinated by her and embarked on a quest to uncover her true identity. Upon investigating the wagon number visible in the footage, Wagenaar revealed that the girl was not among a group of Jews as initially believed, but rather one of the 245 Sinti and Roma individuals deported from Westerbork to Auschwitz on 19 May. For a long time, the unidentified girl's image symbolised the Dutch persecution of Jews.
Born under the caravan
Wagenaar discovered that the girls name was Settela Anna Maria Steinbach was born on 23 December 1934 in Buchten, South Limburg, under a caravan. Her father, a merchant who also played the violin at fairs and village gatherings, named her. In Eindhoven on 16 May 1944, she was taken into custody, and at Camp Westerbork, her hair was forcibly shaved off. She felt embarrassed by this act, leading her to wear a white headscarf. Tragically, Settela passed away in Auschwitz at the tender age of nine, unaware that her memory would endure in a remarkable manner.
Documenting deportations
Deportation films offer a unique glimpse into the Holocaust, serving as a scarce form of evidence. These films were predominantly commissioned by German officials, thus providing a perspective primarily from the viewpoint of the Holocaust perpetrators. Typically, these films were intended for internal use or as propaganda for the German populace. Regardless of their purpose, all recordings are influenced by the camera's viewpoint and the individual operating it. Due to their limited perspective, postwar documentaries that heavily rely on perpetrator footage have faced criticism.
This movie serves as a multifaceted document. It was requested by those responsible for the deportation and produced by a Jewish inmate to capture the events involving the Romani community. Can we perceive this duality and intricacy within the film's viewpoint? Breslauer's camera briefly focuses on specific individuals, yet it also functions as an objective account of the deportation procedure. How should we interpret this material? Is it solely a document from the perpetrators' perspective, or can it be considered a primary source crafted by a fellow victim of Nazi persecution? Is it conceivable for a document to embody both roles simultaneously?
A total of 245 gypsies were ultimately deported, including Settela’s mother, two brothers, two sisters, aunt, and three cousins, all of whom perished. Settela’s father passed away soon after the war. The exact number of persecuted gypsies in Europe remains uncertain, with estimates ranging from 200,000 to 1.5 million.
This is the raw footage of that day. We meet Settela at around the 2:16 mark.
Kommentarer