Sometimes as I teach,
the lesson I'm trying to convey crystallises I think
more profoundly for me than it does for my students.
Today we were covering an article about Chiune Sugihara,
a Japanese diplomat in Lithuania during World War 2.
He issued more than 6000 visas for Jews
who had fled Poland allowing them to escape the encroaching Nazis,
and to enter Japan where they would be able to wait out the war,
decently treated by the Japanese.
Just before I tried to teach this lesson,
I had looked at one of the most affecting photographs I've ever seen;
of a drowned girl, hopelessly just below the clear calm surface of the Mediterranean.
I could tell from her proportions that she was about the same age as Leah-Lyd. (three)
She was in colourful, hopeful clothes;
African Sunday bests is what they brought to mind.
By most accounts, Chiune Sugihara
was someone who shied away from the fame his heroism had won him.
In fact, he may have died in obscurity
were he not sought out by one of the thousands he had saved.
A year before he died in 1986,
he made a speech where he shed some light on his motives
for putting his and his family's safety aside to help the refugees in Lithuania.
He said,
"It is the kind of sentiment anyone would have when he actually sees the refugees face to face, begging with tears in their eyes. He just cannot help but sympathise with them."
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