One of the “musts” listed on several Kaunas travel sites is the Sugihara House, the home and Consul office of Chiune Sugihara, Japanese diplomat (and spy) sent in the 1930’s to Kaunas, to keep an eye on the Nazis and Soviets. Both countries were sending troops toward Lithuania, and Japan wanted to know what was going on. Poles, both Christian and Jewish, were pouring into the country, fearing reprisals by both groups. When the Soviets moved into Lithuania in 1940, the refugees panicked, knowing they had to find a way to leave.
But where to? Palestine was controlled by the British, and they had closed borders, and the US, too, refused to accept war immigrants. Somehow, groups of them wound up in front of the Consul, begging for visas. Chiune, his wife Yukiko, and even their oldest son realized they had a moral obligation to help. But, how?
It’s all very complicated, but the Dutch colony, Curaçao, could be reached without a visa, and from there, it would be easier to immigrate—to Japan, Palestine, the US, Shanghai, etc. Sugihara received permission to write a certain number of transit visas to Curaçao. When those were gone, he asked his government’s permission to write more. Told no, he did it anyway.
In just six days, he wrote over 2,000 transit visas. Because some of them were for families, it’s estimated he saved over 6,000 lives. Even as he and his family were forced to leave, he was handing out transit visas.
There’s a lot to the story, and I suggest you look for more info—there are documentaries, fictional accounts (Night Angels), and a 2015 movie, “Persona Non Grata.”
BUT—that’s not the only reason I’m telling you this. Ted and I visited the Sugihara House, knowing only that he had saved many people from the Nazis and the Soviets. Ramūnas, the director, suggested we watch a short film about Sugihara’s work. Then he showed us around the ground-floor living quarters. All through the museum there are tiny hand signs that signal that a exhibit is interactive. We read about how his father wanted him to be a doctor, and kicked him out when he refused. We learned that he was a Samurai through his mother’s lineage. We “met” his second wife, Kikuyo, a poet in her own right.
Next door was the “war room’’ with videos and recordings of what was leading up to the war.
As we walked down the stairs to the Consul offices, we saw actual photos of some of those he helped, and heard their names.
In a side room, we read stories of Lithuanians who tried to help Jews. In Sugihara’s office, we saw what a transit visa looked like, and across the hall, we could have our photo put on one.
Along a second stairwell we saw photos of descendants of those he saved, and heard recordings of them saying their own names and the names of their ancestors saved.
All this, because in a most un-Japanese manner, Chiune Sugihara broke the rules—the LAW—and did the humane thing. We all know about Schindler, but the name Sugihara has not been as widely acclaimed.
This is a story of courage, of doing the right thing, no matter the consequences. And I applaud this small group of four who make sure we know about it: Ramūnas; and Jurgita, the CEO; Rokas, the museum curator; and Jenny, who has designed an audio tour leading the way from the hotel to the Consul, so you can learn what the refugees felt. They’re designing programs for school children to learn about this remarkable man and the time in history, doing all they can to keep this story and this museum alive. And they all made us feel welcome and at home.
I am in awe of Chiune and Kikuyo Sugihara. And I’m also in awe of Ramūnas, Jurgita, Rokas, and Jenny. You can learn more on Facebook and Instagram. The Sugihara House.
TY for sharing. I shouldn't be surprised at man's inhumanity to man, but somehow I am, and, then I am amazed at how just one person's courage can change the course of so many lives.
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