Looking back. Looking ahead. 2020-2025

150   SPEECHES | DESCENDANTS Descendants ©Flossenbürg Memorial / T. Dashuber Antoon Bink. That is the name of my grandfather. He was 31 years old when he arrived here, in Flossenbürg, and was forced to work. On his clothes, Antoon bore the number   H 89060. Antoon was arrested during the Rotterdam razzia in November 1944. After a long journey, he was taken off the train in Chem- nitz. There, something happened that left an unimaginable scar on him: They took away his name. The name his parents gave him. The name he was known by. The name his friends used to call him. The name by which he would be remembered after his passing. Instead, he was given a number; his identity was taken away from him. In the museum, here at the memorial site, there is a book containing the names of all the people who were imprisoned in this concentration camp. Last year, my sons, then 15 and 12 years old, saw the large number of names in the book, and I could see how deeply it affected them. So many stories behind the numbers, all individuals with their own history. One of the names in the book is my grandfather’s. He was one of the fortunate ones who made it back home alive. Antoon escaped during one of the death marches and eventually knocked on a door, at the home of the Zeller family. Anna, one of the daugh- ters, opened the door. Antoon asked for help and was hidden by the family in the hay barn. Anna and her family restored my grandfather’s identity and saved his life. The fact that good was done during those dark times, and that today, nearly 80 years later, good continues to be done by a group of people here in Flossenbürg, strengthens my belief that we must continue to tell the story to each other time and time again. Together, we must find ways to keep telling the story, as it changes and evolves. * Jörg Skriebeleit, editorial note For me, the story of my grandfather Toon has transformed.   I have shaped it to fit both me and the present time. Unfamiliar with his tale, I began searching for fragments to complete his story. As the puzzle grew clearer, I embarked on my own jour- ney. The journey has been a physical one, but also a personal, inner journey where I could colour my grandfather’s story in my own way. His story became part of my own story. I walked over 1,100 kilometres, tracing Antoon’s footsteps from Rotterdam to Flossenbürg. Along the way, I passed through Chemnitz. In the summer of 2019, on a Saturday afternoon,   I attended a service at the Jacobi Church. This service was   dedicated to recently departed family members, and relatives were invited to write the name of their loved one in The Book of Names. I wrote Antoon’s name in the book, there, in Chem- nitz. In the place where they took his name from him, I could give it back to him. Giving him his name back there felt like an act of justification. Last year, I completed the final 25 kilometres of my journey.   All that time, I carried my grandfather’s camp number with   me in my backpack. He had kept that piece of fabric with the   number on it all his life. It has never been washed. The dirt from his time in Flossenbürg literally still clings to it. When I arrived at the memorial site and concluded my journey, I handed the number to Jörg*, the director of the memorial site. I left the number here, at the place where it belongs. That part of Antoon’s story is now complete. The story is changing. Not literally, but the way we must   continue to tell the story does change. Flossenbürg’s place in history is changing. The impact of the stories of all those   people who were imprisoned here is changing. The legacy we carry is changing. The commemorations are changing.   Youp Zwolschen 79th anniversary  of the liberation of Flossenbürg  21 April 2024