Sonia Wajsenberg: a legacy of optimism

Bernard Korbman OAM

Intelligent, cultured, with a great sense of humour, full of grace, beauty and dignity, compassionate, empathetic and fun-loving

All of these words, although fitting the late Sonia Wajsenberg well, do not do her justice. Sonia’s essence was captured in her eyes. Those wonderful, beautiful eyes truly were the windows to her soul. They captured the essence of this complex, gifted woman who faced her challenges with superhuman effort.

Sonia was born in 1923 in Bialystok, Poland. Her grandfather owned a substantial timber mill and hers was a large extended family. Sonia survived the Holocaust thanks to her husband Mietek, her mother-in-law and several Poles who helped them. Mietek smuggled Sonia out of the Bialystok Ghetto in 1943 and they survived the remainder of the Second World War living in Warsaw on Aryan papers. Apart from her aunt Rochl who had immigrated to Melbourne in 1939, her entire family, including her six-year-old sister Alla, was murdered by the Nazis. Rochl brought Sonia and Mietik to Australia after the war to begin a new life. Sonia always found the good in people and considered herself to be lucky.

Although she had suffered unbelievable loss, when she spoke of her youth and of Mietik, her white knight in shining armour, Sonia’s eyes twinkled. At those times, standing before me was a young woman not only full of joy and laughter, but also a woman of fight, strength and resilience.

Sonia was involved at the Jewish Holocaust Centre from its inception. She was a very special guide, as were all the members of the ‘Tuesday Team’, consisting of Sonia, Rosa Krakowski, Halina Zylberman, Pearl Recht and Willy Lermer.

Sonia was able to tailor her presentation according to her audience. She had a special appreciation of the notion of duty of care towards the students who attended the Centre. She did not want to frighten children and managed to talk about horrendous events without graphic descriptions. Sonia knew how to gain the students’ attention, especially when she talked about ‘running away with her boyfriend’ who had come to save her. After her presentation she was the most hugged guide I ever saw. Students cried with her, and wanted to know more about her boyfriend. However, above all else, they were no longer listening to just a history lesson given by an old lady. Instead they were engaging with a person who made time and generations disappear, and whose message was always about the sanctity of human life and the dignity of humankind.

It was a pleasure to work with Sonia. We all know that staff meetings can sometimes be a little brutal, but if Sonia wanted to discuss an issue, she would not wait for a meeting. She preferred to discuss things with the Tuesday Team or with me on a one-to-one basis, and in this way we were always able to resolve the issue at hand.

When Sonia became unwell but was still able to attend the Holocaust Centre, the Tuesday Team was absolutely devoted to her. They made sure that someone was with her at all times, took her out to lunch every Tuesday, as had been their tradition for many years, and called a taxi to take her home.

All who were privileged to know Sonia – including those students and adults who passed through the Centre or heard her speak at other places – will remember her legacy of optimism in a sometimes dark world; her belief that human beings are basically good; and her conviction that people should never be treated as a means to an end, but rather as an end in themselves.