The Kiwi Who Was German: Search for Identity Reveals World War II Crime
New Zealander George Jaunzemis spent 30 years searching for his true identity. Now, with the help of the International Tracing Service of the Red Cross, he finally knows who he is. But his story, which involves a World War II crime, turns up more questions than answers.
They were standing behind a rustic fence on a small street in the eastern German city of Magdeburg, men in ironed shirts and women in blouses, waving to George Jaunzemis as he got out of the car. He felt them touching his arms and slapping him on the back, and he heard their voices, which seemed nearby and distant at the same time. He looked around at these people he didn't know, and yet many of them knew him.
They served traditional crumb cake on the patio behind the house. Jaunzemis ate some cake, answered questions and asked some of his own. He sat on the green artificial turf and held his glasses tightly in his hands. He looked around a second time. He didn't recognize the house. But when he stood in the garden later on, surrounded by the fruit trees and with the wind blowing, he thought that perhaps he had been in this place once before.
He had spent half of his life without knowing where he came from, and without memories of his childhood days. In this garden in Magdeburg, some of it returned, but it was more like a distant, colorless memory, like something in a dream.
He says that he often had the feeling that something wasn't right about the story that supposedly was his life. "I spent 32 years searching," says Jaunzemis.
He had no birth certificate, no information -- and no past. Then, in the 33rd year of his search, he received a brown envelope in the mail in Riga, Latvia, where he lives. It was the envelope that brought him to meet these people behind the rustic wooden fence.
The envelope is now lying in front of him on the coffee table in his apartment in Riga. Jaunzemis has entered the dates and places from the documents in the envelope into a timeline on graph paper: Riga, Magdeburg, Brussels, Munich, Christchurch. He wants to set things straight about his life.
The search is over, as is the desire to know. At 70, George Jaunzemis finally knows who he is.
A Story with a Beginning and End
Jaunzemis speaks quietly and slowly about his biography, occasionally glancing at the graph paper. He still has to practice his biography. He is an old man with round shoulders and soft, rosy skin. He is wearing a T-shirt with an image of colorful palm trees and the name of the city where he grew up: Christchurch, New Zealand. From New Zealand, he moved to Riga, where the winters are dark and last six months, and where the snow doesn't melt until April. His wife Vija listens to him talk. He met her during the search for his life, and she is the reason he now lives in Latvia.
Vija Sarmite had responded to an ad Jaunzemis had placed in a Riga newspaper in 2000. The ad said that he was looking for someone who could help him find his family. "I am responding to your ad because I like archives," Vija wrote.
Who am I? A person wants to know where he or she comes from, and who their mother, father and grandparents are. They want to be able to tell a complete story about themselves, with a beginning and an end. It's an understandable human desire, especially in the confusing modern world in which relationships are often tentative.
People need exact place names and reliable numbers. They want answers to all their questions, believing that these answers will lead them to their true story. Who are my parents, and who are my siblings? What is unique about me? What is my identity?
Killed in the War
Jaunzemis had been searching for his real identity since his mother died in New Zealand in 1978. She was Latvian. She spoke very little about his father, except to say that he had been killed in the war, and that the rest of the family was also dead. There were times when he didn't believe her.
"Mother: Anna Jaunzemis from Riga."
"Father: Jaunzemis, officer, killed in the war."
That was the information Jaunzemis provided to Vija Sarmite, his new assistant. She got to work in the Riga archives. First she began searching for his father. She found a man named Jaunzemis who seemed to match the description, a captain named Alexander. She found out where he was buried and wrote a second letter. Jaunzemis came to Riga, and he and Sarmite took flowers to the captain's grave.
But according to the gravestone, the captain had died in Australia, which meant that he couldn't be George's father.
Jaunzemis stayed in Latvia for four more weeks. He helped Vija with the research, and sometimes they went for walks in the small park in front of the apartment building. Vija was in her early 60s and had been in an unhappy marriage for the last 30 years. She had three children, all grown and living on their own. George, a retiree from Christchurch, had been a flight sergeant and airplane mechanic with the Royal New Zealand Air Force, and now he was leading a quiet life in retirement. Once a week, he would treat himself to a meal of fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, with ketchup and mayonnaise, which he would eat while walking.
In Riga, he went to the archive with Vija, and she invited him over to her apartment for coffee and chocolate cake. Finally, at the end of his Riga trip, she gave him a very personal letter and told him not to open it until he was in the plane. When the flight landed in New Zealand, he called Vija and told her that he was going to book a flight back to Latvia immediately. He sold his apartment in Christchurch, gave away his furniture, packed his records and some of his clothes, and went back to Riga to be with Vija. She got a divorce. And then they married.
Living His Own Story
Jaunzemis, now an old man, gets up from his sofa, goes to the kitchen and returns with plates and cups. He sets them carefully on the table, places the spoons on the saucers and pours the coffee. Everything is shaking, including the old man. He stands there, like a schoolboy, in his socks on a thick carpet. He isn't used to entertaining guests. He has never had any. But he can still learn how to do it, he says, so he's practicing.
He has decided to live his own story now. For a long time, he didn't know which aspects of his personality were the result of genetics and which ones were shaped by his environment. Now he knows.
In 2002, he and Vija went to the central registry for personal data. They discovered that there was no record of a child named George Jaunzemis having been registered with the authorities in Riga, where his mother was from, in the year of his birth, 1941. They also checked the city's hospitals, but found no information there, either.
Finally they went to the national archive and found an Anna Jaunzemis who was born in 1893, not in 1901, as they had assumed. She had been baptized in the St. Peter and St. Paul Church. They also found addresses. Anna's name reappeared in a 1944 record book for an old building at Alberta Street 8, a cobblestone street, but there was no entry under the "Child" heading, which meant that there was no evidence of a child named George who had been born in 1941.
It was at that moment, says Jaunzemis, that he seriously considered for the first time that perhaps he wasn't the child of the woman he had believed to be his mother until then.
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