Dora “The Explorer” Marquez In WWII

Hola, mi nombre es Dora “The Explorer” Marquez.

You may know me as “an icon not only for kids, but for anyone who needs to feel represented” (Gomez), but what you may not know is that a lot more went on in my life than what my television show lets on.

Let me walk you through my story from the very beginning.

I, Dora Marquez was born on the day, September 1st, 1925 in the Peruvian Jungle, thanks to mis padres, Elena Marquez y Cole Marquez.

Growing up mi familia never had very much money, and sometimes I’d get teased for my old clothes and how my shirt was so little it began to expose my belly.

Nonetheless, I would consider myself far more than a content young girl living in the Peruvian Jungle with mi mama y mi papa, along with mis hermanos gemelos, Guillermo y Isabella.

I was at the time, visiting all mis primos, especially Diego every so often, and mi abuela was right next door if I ever wanted to come bake some suspiro de limena with her.

The one person I hardly ever got to see, but was still so insanely attached to as a young child, was mi bisabuela. Whenever she came to visit from Poland, she and I did everything together, from acting out our favorite movies, to pretending to be all sorts of different animals.

I loved animals when I was little.

She taught me all about them.

She also taught me that nothing lasts forever.

I should’ve listened.

I was only seven years old and it was the year 1932, on the 17th of September, when mi mama decided mi familia should visit mi bisabuela in her hometown in Auschwitz, Poland.

Mi bisabuela had pneumonia and was said to be in grave condition, so we had to try and cheer her up. After all, bisabuela always helped brighten up my days with her bright smiles, arepas, silly little songs, and harmonica playing when I felt down, so now it was time to do the same for her.

However, as soon as we got to her she was gone, lying forever asleep on the hospital bed. Mi familia was absolutely devastated, as mi bisabuela was just the kindest, sweetest woman you could ever possibly meet, and would stay up all night long caring for her patients as a nurse, reading them Shakespeare and feeding them her special tres leches recipe until they were better. Now that she was sick however, the nurses apparently decided she’d been in the hospital for too long and they needed to help others, so they pulled her off oxygen and let her die, without even telling us or letting us see her first...without even letting us say goodbye...not even a quick adios.

I was so angry I could’ve screamed right in their faces, “Bite a bear’s butt!”, but decided against it, only so I wouldn’t be locked up at seven in a foreign country I now despised. This was the worst first impression imaginable.

Like I mentioned earlier, mi bisabuela couldn’t possibly have been closer to me. I would sit on her lap for hours at a time, watching cartoons with her and we would tell stories to each other about imaginary stairs leading to heaven, but I never thought about how quickly she would climb them...how soon her time was truly coming to an end.

A memory I previously cherished was eating chocolate with mi bisabuela, but now I knew that she wasn't supposed to have it because she was diabetic, and that’s why she’d always been making me promise not to tell. The awful thing about it is I never did. I should’ve known. I should’ve said something. Deep inside I felt that it was my fault she was so prone to illness. I hated myself for this, and for not even saying a simple adios.

I hated myself even more that now we had her business and mi papa was actually happy about it. In mi bisabuela’s will, it was said that mi mama must help mi abuela run her pandaria once she was no longer able to, and so mi papa told mi mama that we must stay and we could all chip in to stop “Patricia’s Pandaria” from closing down. Mi papa said it was a chance of a lifetime to finally become rich and have everything we ever wanted, even a unicorn which he apparently believed I still thought existed.

Other than myself, another person I began to despise was mi own papa. Mi papa angered me so much, leaving mi beloved hermanos to mi abuela and Diego’s family for they were so very young and might never even know who their real parents were, and mi poor abuela should’ve come with us. How dare he make such important decisions without even having anyone else’s input first? What was with people around me not even caring about my opinions! I was a human too, after all!

We were all humans.

Almost all of us.

Mi papa just seemed to know nothing about me. He was so wrong about me. I used to like pink shirts and orange bottoms, but I’d grown out of that phase at five. FIVE, I TELL YOU! I was only being polite when I said I liked my wardrobe but that’s all that was even in it and I hated it! He always thought he was right but was always wrong! He thought WAY wrong if he thought I cared about wealth in a time like this, but little did I know, right now life was great in comparison to what I’d turn into in what felt like only second.

Absurd but true, life was great back then.

How Everything Changed

For nearly seven years mi familia was financially thriving, despite the empty hole I endlessly felt in my heart, like I knew mi mama too, felt in hers. We had been utilizing our six figure budget by visiting our familia in Peru and sending them money when food was scarce. People from all over Poland who wished to try some Peruvian food came dashing to our tasty pandaria’s steps every single day to fund our budget and though I still felt guilty and grief, being reminded by her by the business every day, I have to say, things were going better than I could’ve ever expected. I made friends, and not just those fake ones, but real friends called Sarah and Eliana, who’d sing and dance and talk to me for hours about things my parents called “rubbish”, a word they learned from visiting England. I also learned Polish from Sarah, who taught me every day after escuela using flash cards, until I could fluently speak it. I got my own monkey called Boots and we went on adventures together in South America on visits. I was even occasionally having teenage talks with my parents and they finally began listening. People smiled at me instead of hating me like they did at my old school, Pamploninas in Peru, calling me chubby because I wore old shirts that hadn’t fit me since I was three. We weren’t poor but we still were struggling. Now we didn’t have to worry about that kind of stuff at all. I guess there are some ups to not having as much of a tight budget.

Poland had kind of started to grow on me like my pink shirts and orange bottoms.

First impressions aren’t everything, I guess.

I started to feel accepted, and truly happy.

I began to feel at home.

Then, the Nazis came about.

What was your worst gift for your cumpleanos? Embarrassing panties with a poop emoji on them? Well, on my fourteenth birthday, September 1st, 1939, my only gift was losing everything. Absolutely everything.

It was this day some idiotas called the Nazis decided to bomb Poland, “with an advance force consisting of more than 2,000 tanks supported by nearly 900 bombers and over 400 fighter planes” (United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Washington, DC).

Though el pandaria wasn’t physically damaged by the bombing, customers were no longer coming about, for they were in fear of their lives, as many had Jewish backgrounds and may never see the light of day again if they rushed to see it only minutes too soon.

Who’d have known that my family, was too, at risk of being sent off to one of

Auschwitz’s grotesque concentration camps?

I certainly didn’t.

Just later that day, after our “work day” had ended, I checked the mailbox. In it I found a letter addressed to mi mama. On the back it said, From the ‘Nazi Political Party’. First off...political party!? More like a Poop Party! And secondly...oh boy, what did they want now!?

The Nazis destroyed everything when I, after years of wanting more, was just finally starting to become content. I was happier than I’d been for years until they came into my life, even daring to lick a stamp with their devil saliva that I might touch and become infected with their Nazi-ness...and all this on a day that was supposed to be special but now no one even seemed to remember!? How dare their ugly butts and fake mustaches do something like this!

I almost ripped the entire letter right in half right then and there, but then at the last second decided to spare it, but only long enough for me to snoop and see what was in it.

The contents inside were written in Polish, but luckily that was something I could now read, thanks to Sarah.

It read:

Sra. Marquez,

If you have received this letter it means you are registered as Jewish heritage in the state of Poland by blood. It is asked of you to report no later than the date, September 2nd, 1939 to the nearest Auschwitz camp to you. There will be no questions asked, just proceed to pack up minimal food, water, and clothing in a small baggage, and you’ll be picked up tomorrow. If you haven’t reported by tomorrow, with any blood relatives or housemates of yours in Auschwitz, further actions will be taken, including a full inspection of your home. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation. Auf wiedersehen!

Sincerely,

The Nazi political Party

German Administration

No way. This was a mistake for sure. It was horrible to think because it really shouldn’t have mattered, but...the fact was, there was no Jewish heritage in my family. Not a single drop. We were Peruvian, one hundred percent.

Everything was going to be just fine. Mi mama was going to be just fine. Right?

What if it wasn’t going to all be alright though? What if I was wrong? What if...what if something terrible was about to happen?

I began to break down and ugly cry horribly ugly tears, for they’d been caused by the horribly ugly Nazis and their horribly ugly butts, after all.

If it was the end for mi mama though, this time I wanted to do it right.

Just an hour later mi mama and mi papa walked through the door, and I raced towards mi mama and pulled her into my arms as tightly as I could and said, “Adios mi amor. Adios mi mama. Adios!”, but all I got back was a snicker.

“Dora, what are you doing?” she asked, with a confused look written all over her face.

“Si, Dora. What is this? Business isn’t going that bad! Don’t worry!” Mi papa added.

This infuriated me! All mi papa ever seemed to care about was his stupid buisness! All those stupid talks where he pretended to understand me might’ve seemed real at the time, but now that I looked back I realized that he never really even tried to understand me! It was all about him! It always was! Him and his stupid, stupid buisness that wasn’t even his in the first place! It wasn’t even his relative’s in the first place! I hated this stupid obsession with this stupid buisness! I hated this new him! This wasn’t him! This was greed!

I was done with this greed, and done with this familia.

I raced out the door, crying and screaming the word “Adios!” just once more, throwing the letter in mi mama’s face. Adios.

As soon as I stepped out the door I saw my friend, Sarah, also in tears.

“You too, huh?”, she asked.

“What do you mean?” I mumbled under my breath.

A Frustrated Mi

“I mean...you know…”

“What!?” I angrily exploded.

“I...you...are you part Jewish?” she interrogated, looking a bit hurt at my tone.

“I...I don’t know…” I honestly responded.

“Did you get a letter?”

“Yes.”

An astonished look was now plastered across her face, which soon turned into a more serious one.

“Come with me.” She told me, grabbing my arm and pulling me across a short bridge on the lake. “Stay here while I get your parents. You can’t go back over the bridge, you understand? Someone will be there to assist you in a second. Oh, and here’s some lemonade if you’re thirsty. Przepraszam, Dora. Przepraszam.” she told me all at once, handing me the glass of lemonade.

Sorry for what? It wasn’t her fault...

For the next two hours I waited, and waited, and waited, the remaining day going by without me, until it didn’t wait any longer and the daylight turned to night.

I couldn’t wait anymore.

Something was up.

I jugged down the lemonade then began choking. I drank it too fast.

I then crossed the bridge to go back and tiredly walked back. It was like some sort of tired spell had just been cast over me, and it was working fast, but I had to push through it. I just had to…

I didn’t.

I fell asleep in the middle of the road in front of what looked like a hanging scene and I really, truly didn’t want to, but, at that I laughed. I just couldn’t help myself. Something was really off about me right then.

I awoke in some sort of strange looking cabin with a girl with piercingly stone cold eyes staring directly into mine. If I hadn’t remembered Sarah’s sweet, innocent eyes and the loving looks she’d given me, I might even have thought it was her. She then screamed something in German. I didn’t know German. All I knew was after that she slapped me across my cheek, so hard I heard ringing in my ears and felt like collapsing and lying on the floor to die. Instead I began throwing up (that lemonade was the culprit for sure! How old were those lemons anyways!?), which only made her more mad, prompting her to strip me naked and toss me like I was an object, or a little rubber ball, into a smoky room I could hardly breathe in.

Ms. Meany Pants then locked the door on me with what I desperately hoped was sleeping people on the ground. I coughed, and coughed, and coughed. For a second I even accepted the fact that this was the end and that this is where I’d take my last breath, and not even an adequate one at that. Then, suddenly a girl ever so generously handed me her gas mask. I looked at her and I saw the clear resemblance, even through all the smoke and haze…but...it..it couldn’t be…

“Sa-Sa-...Sarah?” I choked out.

“Please, Dora...forgive me…” She muttered, coughing in between words.

“Wha-what?” I asked, confused, quickly taking a deep breath into the mask and then forcing it onto Sarah. We took turns between talking with the mask.

Crying, Sarah looked me in the eyes saying, “I had to Dora. I’m so sorry. I lied to you. Come. I have a key...we need to get out of here...you need to at least know the truth, even if it, quite literally kills the both of us!” Sarah spoke quickly, handed me a towel to cover myself as well as putting one on over herself, then grabbed my arm just as she did before. I trusted her last time, but now I wasn’t so sure. I had no choice though, so I allowed her to lead me out of the building.

Sarah proceeded to drag me into yet another room, forcing me into filthy Nazi clothing. I resisted but she told me it was my only chance. They couldn’t know I was anything else or I was dead, and I didn’t even need to ask who ‘they’ were.

Dressed in the disgusting real life poop emojis of ensembles, hers even, disturbingly enough, with her last name, Wagner attached to it, the two of us walked off the camp entirely unnoticed, with the exception of a couple smiles, ironically enough.

Sarah then held my hand, and we walked miles and miles without even saying a word to one another.

At last, we finally arrived at...of all places, Eliana’s house, and there Sarah whispered to me, “You know that towel you were wearing before?” I nodded. “Well, you’re going to have to put it back on again, sorry.”, she apologized.

"What about you, though, Sarah?” I whined.

Sure, she’d put me through some...stuff, but I still wanted what was best for her. She was my friend, after all, and give or take she’d just saved my life.

“I’ll go in if you’ll share your towel for a minute, but only to tell you the truth. You deserve to hear it, even if you’ll hate me after it.” Sarah lamented.

We then got undressed behind the line of bushes in Eliana’s front yard, wearing only a single towel between the two of us, and hiding our previous outfits under the towel, then knocked on Eliana’s door quietly. Eliana then answered the door, familiar faces behind her…

“Mama...papa?” I sobbed.

“Dora!” Mi familia shouted all at once.

“But...how?” We all asked at the same time.

“Shhh…” Sarah said, closing the door behind her swiftly yet quietly, with a frightened look on her face.

“Not her!” Mi papa exclaimed.

“That little she-demon tried to kill us!” Mi mama followed.

“Sarah saved you guys!” Eliana rebuked.

“Don’t you get it...they had to believe you guys were dead so Sarah took you to the camp...then I swept in to pick you up while Sarah saved Dora so you guys wouldn’t all be together at once so it wouldn’t be so suspicious.”

“Sarah’s mama is a Nazi! I saw it with my own two eyes! It’s because of you guys that this is all even happening in the first place! If you really weren’t a Nazi you’d have saved them all! I don’t feel safe! Looks like we’re getting “special treatment” everybody! I thought it was safe here, but we’ve gotta get out of here! Elena, Dora, save yourselves! I’ve got this one!” Papa erupted, holding his fists in the air towards Sarah.

Sarah’s mom was a Nazi? So that’s why that lady looked so much like her…

Special treatment? Was dad right? Was it only a matter of time? Were we not really, truly safe?

Sarah was now sobbing. Loudly.

“I’m sorry! I never wanted any of this to happen!” Sarah blubbered.

“Stop! Just stop!” Eliana demanded. “We wanted to save more, but it was too dangerous and we only have a limited amount of supplies, you see…”

“You live in a mansion! Limited supplies!? Please! Wait...you’re a nazi too!?” Papa boomed.

“We’re not Nazis!” Eliana fired back. “Our parents have made some wrong decisions…”

“That’s the understatement of the century!” Mi papa insisted.

“My parents are dead, okay!? They left me millions of dollars in inheritance! You’ll be just fine! Are you happy!? Do you still not understand!? This is a safe haven now! No one’s going to check a Nazi’s house for Jewish people! We’ll try to help others but we’re not magicians! We’re fourteen!” Eliana spat out, tears streaming down her rosy red cheeks.

Silence.

“Oh…” Mama sympathized, making the first noise heard in that house in minutes, mousy as it was.

“How did they die?” Papa followed.

“In war.”, Eliana cried. “In a war for nothing.”

More silence.

Then, patting Eliana on the shoulder, Sarah proclaimed, “And...just to get it all out...I also have to tell you some secrets…You see, as you’ve probably figured out already, I’m not really Jewish, but German-Polish instead, but what you may not know is that your great grandfather was a Polish-Jew. Your great grandmother didn’t ever really have pneumonia. She was killed the same way as your great grandfather was, before you were even born...by my parents. Not even for having Jewish blood, but just for having been married to one. Your great grandparents were murdered in a secret gas chamber like the one you all were in earlier by the Nazis long before the war even began. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know...about you having Jewish heritage...or being related to...him...but my parents did...they’d been targeting you ever since you moved into your great grandma's bakery...I wish I’d known...I wish...I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry...I-”

It was a lot of information to take in, but Sarah was wrong when she told me I’d hate her after knowing the truth...it was the complete opposite, in all honesty.

Somehow just the part about mi bisabuela’s death not at all being my fault like I’d previously believed it to have been in itself, lifted what felt like a ton off my shoulder.

Thank you Sarah. Thank you.

“It’s not your fault.” I reassured her.

“But-”

“Sarah, please. You saved us. We’re safe now. Thank you. Thank you both.”, mi mama joined in, nudging papa just a smidge.

“Gracias.”, papa soothed, causing everyone in the room to let out huge grins of relief.

“But...what about you?” I asked Sarah.

“I...I don’t know what’s out there for me...and we really never do, do we? But...if we don’t ever see each other again...adios amigos.” Sarah directed towards all of us.

Then, just as Sarah was about to walk out the door, she came running back in and kissed my cheek, then smiled at me, grabbed her ‘poop emoji’ uniform, and dashed off.

I didn’t even know what to think...but I felt good about it. It was...great. Just great.

I never imagined myself with a girl in the past, and people said it was wrong, but it just felt so right. Nothing felt more right.

CONCLUSION

Every week or two we still got one or two more people to join our clan on average for the next two years because of my friends’ bravery, Eliana’s mansion of a house and endless budget upholding us all. Every so often Sarah would also hang out with us, and when the war ended on September 2nd, in the year 1945, we all had one huge celebration party, which included Sarah and my unofficial wedding day, where we vowed to never leave one another’s side.

We never did.

Now the day is September 17th, in the year 2021, and at the age of ninety six, I still wear my pink shirts and orange bottoms, as I’ve learned to love them once again, and both Sarah and I still live together in Peru where we moved to at twenty, right after the war. My parents moved back to Peru as well. We visited Eliana in Poland every holiday and during the summers she visited Peru.

One of our most notable achievements of the new century has been encouraging young girls and boys that they can do anything, through teamwork. We did so using art, as Sarah and I created a cartoon series called Dora The Explorer based on our adventures in South America together, where, you may not know, but I talk to Sarah the whole time about anything and everything you could possibly imagine in the show, just as we did in real life.

Sarah pushed me to do so many beautiful things in this life as I’ve been a teacher, a garage band lead singer, and children’s book author. Sarah has been so many things in life as well including a psychologist for PTSD people, particularly those who were previously involved in the war, a guitarist in our little band, a part time actress in theater, and, of course an anonymous animator (of our show). I personally believe however, something she’s never been is a Nazi. Mi Sarah? No. She was a hero in disguise as a butthead in her hideous, poop emoji like uniform.

As for Eliana y mi other amigos, mis primos, mis hermanos, y mis padres, they might all be gone, but I know they’re still right beside me, just like my angel, Sarah, who's now in the hospital dealing with fatal pneumonia. I know it’s her time and mine is coming soon too. I can feel it.

I can’t wait to climb the stairs to Heaven with her and see all of our lost loved ones.

I can’t wait to see what’s to come for us in the next life.

Adios my dear Sarah. Adios mi amor. Adios.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Note from the author, Emily C. Burgess:

This story was inspired by my favorite cartoon to watch as a child, Dora The Explorer, with the most amazing grandparents in the world, and their dedication to helping fight in WWII.

Dora was who I always wanted to be so much like as a child, as girls a lot of the time were portrayed as weaklings, and I wanted to see someone portrayed as doing the things I loved to do, and Dora was that girl. I loved nothing more than going on hikes with my brother’s Cub Scout troop, and I was so very devastated when I was told I could no longer participate because of their age, and my age becoming a “problem”. Girl Scouts just seemed to be all about crafts and cooking, but then Dora came along and inspired many of my fun walks, runs, and imaginary “adventures”, brightening up each day for me, for over four years straight.

Gracias, Dora. (for all that and also for teaching me some Espanol, which I claimed to know as a child because I watched you on the T.V. screen...)

This story was also inspired by my grandfather’s horrifying recollection of the war, and his ‘disguised’ partial German-Jew blood on his mother’s side.

Thank you so much everyone who helped fight off the actual, real-life monsters during WWII for making the world a better place, a quote I learned from Girl Scouts, which I still learned to love the community of, despite it not being exactly what I expected it to be like.

I found friends in Girl Scouts who accepted me on days where I felt no one understood me or even wanted to, much like how I portrayed Dora in this story...finally finding people who understood her, even when she felt they didn’t...sometimes your nose is just too long to see it, but it’s right in front of you. It always is.

Life is never how we expect it to be, afterall, but sometimes that’s the beauty of it. It always is.

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Works Cited

Guisell Gomez, et al. “Up Close with One of the Best Ever Latina Characters.” BeLatina, 30 Sept. 2019, belatina.com/dora-explorer-universal-icon/.

Michael Berenbaum, “Auschwitz.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc.,

www.britannica.com/place/Auschwitz.

United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, e encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/invasion-of-poland-fall-1939.