Night+Journey+Project

Journeys Journeys are meandering roads that consists of unexpected twists and turns. Some are pleasant while others are filled with trials and tribulation. In his memoir //Night//, Elie Wiesel recounts a period of his life that was imbued heartache; by the end, he had lost virtually everyone he loved and cared about. He vividly described the horrors of the concentration camp he was sent to as a teenager and the struggle to maintain his faith in God as well. As we accompanied Elie on his journey, we watched him become a stolid young man, so unlike the deeply religious boy he had been at the novel’s inception. I too took a journey of my own; driving for the very first time was an exhilarating yet somewhat terrifying experience that compelled me to step out of my boundaries. In retrospect, I now realize that it had been one of self-enlightenment and that of the real world. Even though Elie’s journey had more gravity than mine, it is true that we felt more mature by the end.

My journey is trivial compared to Elie’s. His was leaning more toward the spiritual side, for he was questioning why God hadn’t done anything to stop the atrocities that were taking place. Elie was so demoralized that he had grown to believe that he wouldn‘t make it out alive, but he had enough faith to fight for his life by refusing to let despair overcome him. He witnessed people get shot down like dogs, other succumb to starvation, and even see an innocent little boy linger in a world straddling life and death for nearly thirty minutes as he hung from a noose. He describes that moment in the quote, “And so he remained for more than half an hour, living between life and death, writhing before our eyes.” (Wiesel 65) That clearly stated what the author saw at the time, and he even goes to say that the life still hadn’t left the //pipel’s// eyes when he passed him. The disturbing image is ingrained in his memory and will never leave him. Fortunately, I had never been in his shoes. I didn’t have to wonder whether or not I was going to die tomorrow, or be so up close and personal with Death; I was worried about not ruining my mom’s van that day. I struggled with the internal conflict of trying to convince myself that what I was doing wasn’t impossible.

In some ways, our journeys were similar. Both of the events were a milestone in our lives and a transition from childhood to adulthood. He was forced to grow up at a young age to fend and care for his father, not the other way around, after he was thrust in a world in which every man was for himself. He hovered by his side as he watched the latter’s health deteriorate. The death of Elie’s father was the worst emotional blow that was ever afflicted upon him; he had lost the only family he had during his imprisonment at the concentration camps He never shed a tear over it, but it is evident that that moment of his life inflicted a wound that would never heal completely because nothing mattered much to him after that point. I also grew up in a way because my mother was teaching me something that only older teens and adults can do - drive. As I reflect on it, I think sitting in the driver’s seats made me feel more mature since I was finally old enough to give it a try. I also saw it as a key to more freedom, for that would enable me to pretty much go wherever I want without pestering my parents. The only difference, however, is that Elie became an adult while facing a stark reality and under much darker circumstances.

Indeed, our experiences made us older in a way. Once we reached the end of the road - Elie’s rocky, mine relatively smooth - we both had more knowledge about the real world and ourselves. He realized what the world was capable of while he tried come to grips with himself and what he observed along the way. He also struggled with himself, trying to decide whether or not to abandon his father during a time of need. On the other hand, I learned some useful rules of the road and I realized that driving wasn’t as easy as I previously thought. I had underestimated it and lost faith in myself, but with my mother’s urging, I was able to tough it out. The theme here is clear: if you lose faith in yourself, you won‘t accomplish anything. If Elie lost faith completely and allowed himself to die, he wouldn’t have survived the Holocaust. If I had given up that day, I would have been even more nervous about driving than I had been before. My journey was a leisurely stroll in the forest; Elie’s a laborious trek through the woods with tragedies lurking in the shadows and jumping out at him every which way without reprieve. A journey can be an extremely difficult time during one’s life, but once you reach the end of that road you start the next one a wiser person.