RLOPCUkraineBlog: Behind the Doors of 'Number One'

How often we walk through our cities and towns, past buildings that display no sign of their purpose. I never ask myself what is behind the door of the yellow house on the corner or the imposing building on the main street. We might actually be surprised or shocked at what goes on behind closed doors and high walls. This is certainly the case with One Lonstsky Street in Lviv. Starting in 1918 with the Polish and ending in 1991 when the KGB skipped town for good, this nondescript building with the high walls was a prison and, virtually, a death camp for political prisoners. Today, if you know where to go, it is a museum of remembrance for future generations. I was lucky enough to read a few guidebooks and look at some maps so I knew where to find the National Museum and Memorial to the Victims of the Occupation. (http://www.lonckoho.lviv.ua/)

Much like memorials to the Holocaust in Riga, memorials to those killed by the NKVD and its successor, the KGB, are often difficult to find. Whether it's from a conscious decision (http://www.lucorg.com/news.php/news/4554), negligence, or a will NOT to remember, I am unsure. Either way, it took some time to make my way to the museum on a street I had walked upon in January. At that time I was looking for the Cat Cafe but little did I know that the building I was standing beside while waiting for a tram was the same place the NKVD killed between 1,300 and 1,700 political prisoners in late June 1941 as the Germans were preparing to roll into town. Many of these prisoners were Ukrainian nationalists, from religious orders, or people at the wrong place at the wrong time. (http://www.kyivpost.com/article/content/ukraine/lviv-museum-recounts-soviet-nazi-atrocities-66675.html). It's not surprising I didn't identify the place as a museum since there were no markings on the wall besides a wreath adorned with blue and yellow ribbons and flowers. (Clue #1) The real entrance is around a side street where you find an entrance with some printed information and a flag over the door.

When I went to the museum on a Saturday afternoon, I was one of the only people there. It was free of charge and a man in what I took to be a police officer's uniform let me in with a polite greeting. Once inside the place looked as it should, uncared for. The wooden floors creaked and paint was peeling from the walls. I had a feeling that this was intentional as much as for a lack of funds to pay for renovations. Either way, the effect was chilling. There was no doubt this was a prison. Walls were papered over to keep out the sun and cobwebs filled what passed for toilets. Then there was the door leading out to the courtyard. While there were plenty of exhibits in English, many were not. I was trying out my Ukrainian when I was approached by an older woman who appeared to work there. Oksana, as she was called, initial spoke to me in Ukrainian but soon switched to English. As we chatted she offered to show me around. She was a wealth of information and her English was very good despite her objections to the contrary. What she could not explain in English she said in Ukrainian and we split the difference. I was thankfully she offered to show me around as I got to see some places that are not open to the public; including the basement where the condemned waited to die.

I will not go on and on but it was an important experience on my trip to Lviv. This is a city that has been tossed between the Poles, the Soviets, the Germans, and the Soviets once more. The previous governments still do not seem to want to invest in these types of memorials to events that need to be remembered and discussed. It has been suggested that recent events in Ukraine could have been prevented or altered if discussions about the Soviet past had been taking place. (https://euromaidanberlin.wordpress.com/2014/04/01/kgb-archives-in-ukraine-will-be-open-to-public/) Regardless, this is a place that more people, especially Ukrainians, need to see.