THE NEW HIP
Fortunately the hip operation has been done in Assen. It is great to be back home again, everything is going all right. Though I had to get used to moving about on two crutches, as well as sleeping on my back. On August 12 the surgery took place and on August 17, I was already going home to Zeeland, it was long a drive.
In 2006 I had a knee operation in Assen, a cataract operation in 2007 in Zeeland, this hip surgery in 2008, hopefully nothing in 2009, but you never know.
The Wilhelmina hospital in Assen is doing great, it’s a joint care institution.
There are five orthopedic surgeons, super anesthetists and very friendly nurses.
I haven’t felt the epidural, I lay on the operation table with two pillows under my head and an oxygen tube. Occasionally you see your leg go back and forth and you hear them sawing and hammering. Three nights after the surgery you are allowed to go home, it is incredible. Tomorrow is the third week.
I have been to the viewing day of the auction and with my rollator to C1000, the supermarket.
My dear husband is taking perfectly care of us and with the hired help, who is coming for 2½ hours each week, we manage fine.
So I continue writing my stories.
Dinkie
Friday, August 1, 2008
maandag 27 december 2010
A VERY DANGEROUS PROJECT.
A DANGEROUS PROJECT
We arrived in Lagos, Nigeria with two cats and a 13 year old child. The first thing that happened in this terrible country, Willem was detained when passing the passport control. His vaccination papers were not okay. Someone of HBG was supposed to meet and help us with everything, but he or she didn’t show up.
Then a Nigerian took one of my cats, their vaccination was also not in order. My heart was in my throat, I was so nervous and sweat was gushing from me. I kept myself brave for Andy’s sake, it will be all right. Meanwhile the arrival hall was nearly empty and we just stood there. Willem surrounded by cops and I sitting on our lugage with my child and one cat. Further on I heard my other cat meowing piteously, they were thirsty. The temperature rose and the Nigerians were grinning at us.
Finally the HBG man arrived. Sorry, sorry, there was so much traffic, we went so slow. After talking and talking for half an hour and paying all was settled. Happily we went to the bus with both of our cats. We lived on a compound completely surrounded by a wall. Opposite our house was the house of the ITT man, who worked for an Italian company. In front of his house were 12 men, who lived in the garage. Despite the wall around our houses, despite the guard in the house near the gate, this ITT man thought he needed 12 more men from Niger to guard him. It wasn’t very promising. Between the houses was also grass and trees. In one of the trees in front of the 12 men hung a skinned monkey, my stomach turned. You wouldn’t believe what I have seen these Niger men do, it is unbelievable, they ate everything. In the beginning I was scared of these Arabic looking men, with their black capes, indigo blue turbands and long curved swords, very impressing. All day long there was a coming and going of these figures. We also had a day- and night guard, a Hausapappa, an old Muslim man, also Arabic. I estimated him 60 years. From experience of my earlier visit 7 years before, I knew that these men are very reliable and soon he had a good contact with the 12 men on the other side. We gave our guard a hot meal twice a day. One day he came to me and showed me his hand, which was infected and swollen. I understood that he wanted me to give him something to cure it. I gave him some penicillin cure, which I always have ready to take at home. You can buy it there without a prescription. After 7 days the hand was better and he was happy.
One night, we had been away to the site the whole day where the actual work was done, finishing the airport project Port Harcourt, there was a hard bang on the door. We woke up while the pounding continued. There is someone at the door, I said. We walked through the large gate at the bottom of the stairs, which we had to open first, before reaching our barred front door and saw our Hausappapa. He gestured that we had to open the door. Okay, okay, Willem said and carefully opened the door. Our guard gestured that we had to follow him to the other side. We didn’t understand him, there was a man with him from the other side, we had to come with him. Dress well, Willem said, they are Muslims. We didn’t want to go but finally, after taking good care I was very proper dressed, went to the other side in the pitch dark. There was a man on the ground moaning with pain. They pointed to me, that I had to do something. My God, Willem said. They want you to treat him and when he dies it is our fault. But we couldn’t refuse either with all those men standing around us with their daggers and swords. What now, I said. What are we going to do? As a woman you can’t touch him. How do I know what is wrong with him. Willem said: the safest thing you can do is give him a cure for worms. They always do that at the site as well, it works perfectly and at least it can do no harm. Later in the day you can always say that a real doctor has to come. Okay Willem, that seems an excellent idea. Will you get the worm cure? There I stood in dark Africa alone with 12 men with swords. The worm cure was given with lots of water and we went quickly back to our house locking everything. When next morning we carefully looked outside, we were amazed to see 12 men with happy faces. The man was cured. So, Willem said, they were right at the site, most of the people here have worms. We regularly gave them frozen chickens, pillows and a lot more of other things and we have felt always safe with them around us. They were extremely nice and took good care of us as we took good care of them with a lot of food.
A follow up on this story is about calling to Holland through radio Scheveningen on a dredger on the river Warrie in Port Harcourt, Nigeria.
Dinkie
We arrived in Lagos, Nigeria with two cats and a 13 year old child. The first thing that happened in this terrible country, Willem was detained when passing the passport control. His vaccination papers were not okay. Someone of HBG was supposed to meet and help us with everything, but he or she didn’t show up.
Then a Nigerian took one of my cats, their vaccination was also not in order. My heart was in my throat, I was so nervous and sweat was gushing from me. I kept myself brave for Andy’s sake, it will be all right. Meanwhile the arrival hall was nearly empty and we just stood there. Willem surrounded by cops and I sitting on our lugage with my child and one cat. Further on I heard my other cat meowing piteously, they were thirsty. The temperature rose and the Nigerians were grinning at us.
Finally the HBG man arrived. Sorry, sorry, there was so much traffic, we went so slow. After talking and talking for half an hour and paying all was settled. Happily we went to the bus with both of our cats. We lived on a compound completely surrounded by a wall. Opposite our house was the house of the ITT man, who worked for an Italian company. In front of his house were 12 men, who lived in the garage. Despite the wall around our houses, despite the guard in the house near the gate, this ITT man thought he needed 12 more men from Niger to guard him. It wasn’t very promising. Between the houses was also grass and trees. In one of the trees in front of the 12 men hung a skinned monkey, my stomach turned. You wouldn’t believe what I have seen these Niger men do, it is unbelievable, they ate everything. In the beginning I was scared of these Arabic looking men, with their black capes, indigo blue turbands and long curved swords, very impressing. All day long there was a coming and going of these figures. We also had a day- and night guard, a Hausapappa, an old Muslim man, also Arabic. I estimated him 60 years. From experience of my earlier visit 7 years before, I knew that these men are very reliable and soon he had a good contact with the 12 men on the other side. We gave our guard a hot meal twice a day. One day he came to me and showed me his hand, which was infected and swollen. I understood that he wanted me to give him something to cure it. I gave him some penicillin cure, which I always have ready to take at home. You can buy it there without a prescription. After 7 days the hand was better and he was happy.
One night, we had been away to the site the whole day where the actual work was done, finishing the airport project Port Harcourt, there was a hard bang on the door. We woke up while the pounding continued. There is someone at the door, I said. We walked through the large gate at the bottom of the stairs, which we had to open first, before reaching our barred front door and saw our Hausappapa. He gestured that we had to open the door. Okay, okay, Willem said and carefully opened the door. Our guard gestured that we had to follow him to the other side. We didn’t understand him, there was a man with him from the other side, we had to come with him. Dress well, Willem said, they are Muslims. We didn’t want to go but finally, after taking good care I was very proper dressed, went to the other side in the pitch dark. There was a man on the ground moaning with pain. They pointed to me, that I had to do something. My God, Willem said. They want you to treat him and when he dies it is our fault. But we couldn’t refuse either with all those men standing around us with their daggers and swords. What now, I said. What are we going to do? As a woman you can’t touch him. How do I know what is wrong with him. Willem said: the safest thing you can do is give him a cure for worms. They always do that at the site as well, it works perfectly and at least it can do no harm. Later in the day you can always say that a real doctor has to come. Okay Willem, that seems an excellent idea. Will you get the worm cure? There I stood in dark Africa alone with 12 men with swords. The worm cure was given with lots of water and we went quickly back to our house locking everything. When next morning we carefully looked outside, we were amazed to see 12 men with happy faces. The man was cured. So, Willem said, they were right at the site, most of the people here have worms. We regularly gave them frozen chickens, pillows and a lot more of other things and we have felt always safe with them around us. They were extremely nice and took good care of us as we took good care of them with a lot of food.
A follow up on this story is about calling to Holland through radio Scheveningen on a dredger on the river Warrie in Port Harcourt, Nigeria.
Dinkie
MY STAY IN EPE, HOLLAND.
OUR STAY IN EPE
It was a beautiful summer in 1950. I was 16 years old and went for a 10 days stay to my aunt Jo, my mother’s concentration camp friend, who in camp Solo was next to us with her son Adriaan. So I tease is wife, that I slept first with him. But to tell you, the truth is that he was younger and he was always teasing me together with my terrible brother My aunt lived in Epe on the Dellenweg, a road through the country with a house here and there, very lonely, completely at the outskirts. It even looked like Indonesia. A forest with trees everywhere and bushes, here and there a hidden house. At the very end a sandy path and then the beautiful heather. She lived almost at the end of this area near the heather. Fortunately, her house was one of two under one roof, each with its own area of forest. From the street a gravel road led to the front door and aside of her forest, a sandy path led to the garage.
It really was a lovely house of the thirties with deep basement, joining rooms with doors opening to the terrace. From the terrace you couldn’t see the street nor the neighbours due to all the trees, bushes and pine trees. Her house was beautifully decorated with lovely Indonesian furniture and lots of silver from Djokja. We cozily drank tea on the terrace. I unpacked my suitcase in the nice room with a view at the garden. At two o’clock the telephone rang, a totally shaken aunt Jo, told that her youngest sister had fallen and broken her leg and was being operated. There was no one to take over the leading of the pension in Bergen-binnen. Before I knew it aunt Jo left with her suitcase to Bergen-binnen. You’ll be fine, huh child, I will call you. Ex concentration camp people always have plenty to eat at home. Everything was packed, the basement was full with food and the fridge was filled, so there was no problem. It was deadly silent after she left. There I was all alone in Epe in the middle of nowhere with out knowing anybody, I felt very awfull. After listening to the radio for a couple of hours and hearing that bad weather was forecasted, I made something to eat for myself. There were meatballs ready in the casserole. I listened to the radio again hearing the forecast for heavy rains and heavy wind, etc. At 10 o’clock I went to bed. At midnight I sat straight on my bed. A terrible storm had erupted with thunder and lightning. It was so fierce that it scared the daylight out of me and I went shivering downstairs. I couldn’t find the light switch in the pitch dark room. The heavy curtains were closed. My parents were on holiday, I couldn’t call anyone it was 1950 and didn’t know what to do. Finally I found a light and sat there shivering. Flashing lights, thunder and lightning and suddenly heavy rain. My light went out, the power was gone. I didn’t know where the candles were and heard strange noises everywhere; cracking sounds and flapping of things. I searched for the telephone in the hallway and for the directory, I had to find someone to speak to.
Then suddenly the doorbell, I stood frozen, who could that be, my immagination hiting stampede. There was a small window in the door and I looked through it, seeing a big man with a raincoat and an umbrella. He turned around and pointed at the door. It took me sometime before I dared open it because I was afraid. The man came inside and said: “child, you must have been very frightened here all by yourself, please don’t be afraid now”. I am the neighbour and will sit with you until the worst is over”.
First he put in new fuses and turned on all the lights, then he made us a cup of tea and sat with me. The weather hasn’t been this bad in years, he said.
I estimated him about 70 years. He saw that I was still upset. He told me that aunt Jo went to see him before she left and that he was a retired headmaster of a primary school in Rotterdam and that he lived next door with his wife, who was older than him. Before we knew it, it was 02.00 a.m. and after checking everything again he went home.
Thanks, to this dear teacher I had a very nice time at the Dellenweg. Every morning he came to drink coffee with me on the terrace and we talked about all sorts of things. In the afternoon we went for a walk and he told stories about every bird, every tree and every bush we saw. In the evening he also came often for a couple of hours to keep me company on the terrace, while embroidering beautiful tablecloths. He radiated a serenity I had never experienced with anyone before nor after. During all this time, he also took care of his wife, who was ill. This wise man is never completely disappeared from my mind, nor the things he taught me. When aunt Jo came back after a week she found a clean house and a cheerful and happy teenager.
Dinkie
It was a beautiful summer in 1950. I was 16 years old and went for a 10 days stay to my aunt Jo, my mother’s concentration camp friend, who in camp Solo was next to us with her son Adriaan. So I tease is wife, that I slept first with him. But to tell you, the truth is that he was younger and he was always teasing me together with my terrible brother My aunt lived in Epe on the Dellenweg, a road through the country with a house here and there, very lonely, completely at the outskirts. It even looked like Indonesia. A forest with trees everywhere and bushes, here and there a hidden house. At the very end a sandy path and then the beautiful heather. She lived almost at the end of this area near the heather. Fortunately, her house was one of two under one roof, each with its own area of forest. From the street a gravel road led to the front door and aside of her forest, a sandy path led to the garage.
It really was a lovely house of the thirties with deep basement, joining rooms with doors opening to the terrace. From the terrace you couldn’t see the street nor the neighbours due to all the trees, bushes and pine trees. Her house was beautifully decorated with lovely Indonesian furniture and lots of silver from Djokja. We cozily drank tea on the terrace. I unpacked my suitcase in the nice room with a view at the garden. At two o’clock the telephone rang, a totally shaken aunt Jo, told that her youngest sister had fallen and broken her leg and was being operated. There was no one to take over the leading of the pension in Bergen-binnen. Before I knew it aunt Jo left with her suitcase to Bergen-binnen. You’ll be fine, huh child, I will call you. Ex concentration camp people always have plenty to eat at home. Everything was packed, the basement was full with food and the fridge was filled, so there was no problem. It was deadly silent after she left. There I was all alone in Epe in the middle of nowhere with out knowing anybody, I felt very awfull. After listening to the radio for a couple of hours and hearing that bad weather was forecasted, I made something to eat for myself. There were meatballs ready in the casserole. I listened to the radio again hearing the forecast for heavy rains and heavy wind, etc. At 10 o’clock I went to bed. At midnight I sat straight on my bed. A terrible storm had erupted with thunder and lightning. It was so fierce that it scared the daylight out of me and I went shivering downstairs. I couldn’t find the light switch in the pitch dark room. The heavy curtains were closed. My parents were on holiday, I couldn’t call anyone it was 1950 and didn’t know what to do. Finally I found a light and sat there shivering. Flashing lights, thunder and lightning and suddenly heavy rain. My light went out, the power was gone. I didn’t know where the candles were and heard strange noises everywhere; cracking sounds and flapping of things. I searched for the telephone in the hallway and for the directory, I had to find someone to speak to.
Then suddenly the doorbell, I stood frozen, who could that be, my immagination hiting stampede. There was a small window in the door and I looked through it, seeing a big man with a raincoat and an umbrella. He turned around and pointed at the door. It took me sometime before I dared open it because I was afraid. The man came inside and said: “child, you must have been very frightened here all by yourself, please don’t be afraid now”. I am the neighbour and will sit with you until the worst is over”.
First he put in new fuses and turned on all the lights, then he made us a cup of tea and sat with me. The weather hasn’t been this bad in years, he said.
I estimated him about 70 years. He saw that I was still upset. He told me that aunt Jo went to see him before she left and that he was a retired headmaster of a primary school in Rotterdam and that he lived next door with his wife, who was older than him. Before we knew it, it was 02.00 a.m. and after checking everything again he went home.
Thanks, to this dear teacher I had a very nice time at the Dellenweg. Every morning he came to drink coffee with me on the terrace and we talked about all sorts of things. In the afternoon we went for a walk and he told stories about every bird, every tree and every bush we saw. In the evening he also came often for a couple of hours to keep me company on the terrace, while embroidering beautiful tablecloths. He radiated a serenity I had never experienced with anyone before nor after. During all this time, he also took care of his wife, who was ill. This wise man is never completely disappeared from my mind, nor the things he taught me. When aunt Jo came back after a week she found a clean house and a cheerful and happy teenager.
Dinkie
EVACUATION OF INDONESIA TO HOLLAND.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
EVACUATION OF INDONESIA TO HOLLAND
From our beautiful ship, the Klipfontein, we left with a freight train for Attaca, a town in the interior of Egypt.
The journey was long and all you could see everywhere was sand. It was extremely hot, but we enjoyed it. Finally we were sitting in something that didn’t move, as it felt that our bodies were still rocking back and forth. The carriages were open and you could just stand in a warm breeze.
Then suddenly we saw a huge tent camp and also barracks which were surrounded by a large, high fence. It was familiar to us, but instead of Japanese there were Englishmen and Americans who guarded the big camp. Everywhere you saw white prisoners in striped suits. No one understood what was happening. We had to get out and had to go into the camp. Lots of striped men came to us and respectfully escorted us to the large tents. They spoke a language I didn’t understood. They are German, my mother said. They are German prisoners of war and they have to help us. My mother had been on a boarding school in Berlin when she was young and could speak fluent German.
As soon as she started a conversation with one of them, a guard ran to her and started yelling at the German. We were shocked and walked quietly behind the man into the huge tent. Inside the tent it felt like heaven, tables full of food and nice English women. We sat at one of the tables and we could eat and take as much as we wanted. And that is what we did. All mothers warned us in vain not to eat too much as we weren’t used to it. In one part of this huge tent there was also a playground with swings and roundabouts. All this was operated by the same men in their striped suits. Furthermore, there was a merry band playing American music. Also the band was formed by the same prisoners.
If you wanted to use the swing one of the men came to push you, it was great, as they ran after us like dogs. It was the world upside down. Many children were commanding them and showed improper behavior. After we had enjoyed all of it, we were called and had to move to another part of the huge tent. There we got warm clothes, socks, underwear, a coat, sweaters and shoes and lots more. We were also given blankets. To this day I still have saved this a pure wool Attaca blanket, even my children know where it’s coming from.
Each with a large duffel bag and suitcases filled with stuff, we went back to the ship by train in the dark (there it’s already dark at 6.00 p.m.). Overtired and a lot of us also feeling very sick of all the food we had gotten. The ship’s doctor, my foster father on board, had his hands full for days to help the very sick people. Coming from concentration camps our stomachs were not used to all the food we ate. Two children even died of this.
For years we have had the pleasure of the winter coats and all the lovely warm clothing. This was my first encounter with the cold and the last for several years with the heat.
Dinkie
EVACUATION OF INDONESIA TO HOLLAND
From our beautiful ship, the Klipfontein, we left with a freight train for Attaca, a town in the interior of Egypt.
The journey was long and all you could see everywhere was sand. It was extremely hot, but we enjoyed it. Finally we were sitting in something that didn’t move, as it felt that our bodies were still rocking back and forth. The carriages were open and you could just stand in a warm breeze.
Then suddenly we saw a huge tent camp and also barracks which were surrounded by a large, high fence. It was familiar to us, but instead of Japanese there were Englishmen and Americans who guarded the big camp. Everywhere you saw white prisoners in striped suits. No one understood what was happening. We had to get out and had to go into the camp. Lots of striped men came to us and respectfully escorted us to the large tents. They spoke a language I didn’t understood. They are German, my mother said. They are German prisoners of war and they have to help us. My mother had been on a boarding school in Berlin when she was young and could speak fluent German.
As soon as she started a conversation with one of them, a guard ran to her and started yelling at the German. We were shocked and walked quietly behind the man into the huge tent. Inside the tent it felt like heaven, tables full of food and nice English women. We sat at one of the tables and we could eat and take as much as we wanted. And that is what we did. All mothers warned us in vain not to eat too much as we weren’t used to it. In one part of this huge tent there was also a playground with swings and roundabouts. All this was operated by the same men in their striped suits. Furthermore, there was a merry band playing American music. Also the band was formed by the same prisoners.
If you wanted to use the swing one of the men came to push you, it was great, as they ran after us like dogs. It was the world upside down. Many children were commanding them and showed improper behavior. After we had enjoyed all of it, we were called and had to move to another part of the huge tent. There we got warm clothes, socks, underwear, a coat, sweaters and shoes and lots more. We were also given blankets. To this day I still have saved this a pure wool Attaca blanket, even my children know where it’s coming from.
Each with a large duffel bag and suitcases filled with stuff, we went back to the ship by train in the dark (there it’s already dark at 6.00 p.m.). Overtired and a lot of us also feeling very sick of all the food we had gotten. The ship’s doctor, my foster father on board, had his hands full for days to help the very sick people. Coming from concentration camps our stomachs were not used to all the food we ate. Two children even died of this.
For years we have had the pleasure of the winter coats and all the lovely warm clothing. This was my first encounter with the cold and the last for several years with the heat.
Dinkie
dinsdag 14 december 2010
CARD READING IN SOLO
CARD READING
Walking through the corridors of Camp Solo, women and children everywhere, it was incredibly full. The new camp wasn’t ready yet. Hundreds of women and children were waiting here for this new camp, when suddenly the news came that all boys from 10 years on would be taken away. No one knew where they would go to. What than happened I will never forget, it will be burned for ever in my memory, it was the worst thing I've ever seen. Women weeping and frightened boys, only ten years old and very afraid. They had already lost their fathers and now they didn’t know where they were going. Nobody knew. Those two days were hell for everyone. Then came the dreaded morning, big trucks arrived. There they were all together, 10 years and over, shivering with fear, some boys began to cry loudly, some ran back to their mothers and hat to be dragged away. Mothers stood there in despair, some began to scream and were quickly dragged away by other women. Then suddenly the trucks drove away taking your only son, brother or eldest son. An hour later it was all over, it became deadly silent in the camp. All you heard was many women crying, some screaming. It took weeks before they could cope. Then the new camp was ready and we all got some rest and an overview. All mothers though were anxious to know what had happened to their sons, so they were looking for a fortune teller or someone who could read cards, there were two of them.
For a little bit of sugar or something else they would read cards and tell you about your son, husband, etc. As time passed and certain things came out, such a card reader became more credible. They had a days work doing it. Because I was often bored, I always sat with the card readers and followed everything they did. I remembered everything of every reading. Slowly I learned to see for myself what would happen to the people and also saw the things the fortune teller concealed from them, if she saw something very bad happening to them. I thought that was very nice of her. If you follow the readers for days and weeks, it all becomes clear and you immediately could verify what was said was true. Everyone was so close by and everything went like wildfire, especially when a prediction was really happening.
Much later, in Holland as a girl of 15, 16 years old and in love, you wanted to know whether everything would be all right, so I started reading the cards for myself at first and later also for my friends. Soon my reputation as fortune teller became known. My whole life I have been reading cards for friends and acquaintances for free. I still do read cards sometimes, when one of my friends is ill or something very unpleasant is happening, just for myself to see what turn it takes. There has been a time,that to many friends called and ask me to do it so many because it was always coming true that it became all too much for me. I stopped then and now I am older, 75 and I do it whenever I want to know what happens to some one who is dear to me. I just do it for very good friends. They often asked me why I didn’t charge any money for it. My answer is: when I really do a good reading, then that is a gift.
Dinkie
Walking through the corridors of Camp Solo, women and children everywhere, it was incredibly full. The new camp wasn’t ready yet. Hundreds of women and children were waiting here for this new camp, when suddenly the news came that all boys from 10 years on would be taken away. No one knew where they would go to. What than happened I will never forget, it will be burned for ever in my memory, it was the worst thing I've ever seen. Women weeping and frightened boys, only ten years old and very afraid. They had already lost their fathers and now they didn’t know where they were going. Nobody knew. Those two days were hell for everyone. Then came the dreaded morning, big trucks arrived. There they were all together, 10 years and over, shivering with fear, some boys began to cry loudly, some ran back to their mothers and hat to be dragged away. Mothers stood there in despair, some began to scream and were quickly dragged away by other women. Then suddenly the trucks drove away taking your only son, brother or eldest son. An hour later it was all over, it became deadly silent in the camp. All you heard was many women crying, some screaming. It took weeks before they could cope. Then the new camp was ready and we all got some rest and an overview. All mothers though were anxious to know what had happened to their sons, so they were looking for a fortune teller or someone who could read cards, there were two of them.
For a little bit of sugar or something else they would read cards and tell you about your son, husband, etc. As time passed and certain things came out, such a card reader became more credible. They had a days work doing it. Because I was often bored, I always sat with the card readers and followed everything they did. I remembered everything of every reading. Slowly I learned to see for myself what would happen to the people and also saw the things the fortune teller concealed from them, if she saw something very bad happening to them. I thought that was very nice of her. If you follow the readers for days and weeks, it all becomes clear and you immediately could verify what was said was true. Everyone was so close by and everything went like wildfire, especially when a prediction was really happening.
Much later, in Holland as a girl of 15, 16 years old and in love, you wanted to know whether everything would be all right, so I started reading the cards for myself at first and later also for my friends. Soon my reputation as fortune teller became known. My whole life I have been reading cards for friends and acquaintances for free. I still do read cards sometimes, when one of my friends is ill or something very unpleasant is happening, just for myself to see what turn it takes. There has been a time,that to many friends called and ask me to do it so many because it was always coming true that it became all too much for me. I stopped then and now I am older, 75 and I do it whenever I want to know what happens to some one who is dear to me. I just do it for very good friends. They often asked me why I didn’t charge any money for it. My answer is: when I really do a good reading, then that is a gift.
Dinkie
woensdag 1 december 2010
Camp Solo Event
Solo was a large CONCENTRATION CAMP.
The camp existed of two parts, one part was a former psychiatric hospital and the new section with lots of barracks was newly build for many prisoners. In one of those barracks we slept, my mother, brother and I. Everybody had exactly 45 inches, all lined in a long line. Opposite were your suitcases with your stuff. In front of the suitcases was a large aisle. At the other side it was the same. Every morning we had to take the roll call. In the evening we had to be inside the barracks at 9 o’clock otherwise you were caught and you would be beaten. Sometimes there were important visitors. It were scary, severe Japanese, hung with medals, who came inspecting if everything was allright. A disaster it was. Everything had to be clean and perfectly tidy, we then had to take roll calls for long hours. They loved that.
We played cards on our beds. Next to us Adriaan slept with his mother, who became my mother’s best friend and remained so for the rest of her life.
Once I laughed so hard that I fell backwards with my head on our suitcases. I was unconscious, vomited and had a concussion. I had to lay flat. Exactly at that time the important visitors came and everyone had to be present at the roll call. Deadly quiet I lay there, all alone in the large barrack, frozen with fear. The door flew open and three Japs came in. One walked on the beds on the other side and one on my side with a Samurai swords pricking in everything. I saw his shining boots come closer. I lay there without moving, but made sure that he could see me. Imagine, he could put me to death with that sword. I looked at him tensely as he came closer and closer. Suddenly he was in front of me, standing with his boots on both sides of my body. With his shining sword he started yelling at me (they always did). I was too afraid to cry. He yelled something to the other Japs en started pricking with his sword around me. He also took my doll and pulled her head off and looked inside her. They were looking for hidden jewels and money. I smelled his breath, when he bent over me again. He grinned and barked something to me in Japanese and finally left, waving his sword. That I, as a 9 year old, didn’t wet my pants is a miracle. After this I never stayed alone in my bed even when I was very ill. As far as I am concerned I was very lucky to have survived this event.
Dinkie
The camp existed of two parts, one part was a former psychiatric hospital and the new section with lots of barracks was newly build for many prisoners. In one of those barracks we slept, my mother, brother and I. Everybody had exactly 45 inches, all lined in a long line. Opposite were your suitcases with your stuff. In front of the suitcases was a large aisle. At the other side it was the same. Every morning we had to take the roll call. In the evening we had to be inside the barracks at 9 o’clock otherwise you were caught and you would be beaten. Sometimes there were important visitors. It were scary, severe Japanese, hung with medals, who came inspecting if everything was allright. A disaster it was. Everything had to be clean and perfectly tidy, we then had to take roll calls for long hours. They loved that.
We played cards on our beds. Next to us Adriaan slept with his mother, who became my mother’s best friend and remained so for the rest of her life.
Once I laughed so hard that I fell backwards with my head on our suitcases. I was unconscious, vomited and had a concussion. I had to lay flat. Exactly at that time the important visitors came and everyone had to be present at the roll call. Deadly quiet I lay there, all alone in the large barrack, frozen with fear. The door flew open and three Japs came in. One walked on the beds on the other side and one on my side with a Samurai swords pricking in everything. I saw his shining boots come closer. I lay there without moving, but made sure that he could see me. Imagine, he could put me to death with that sword. I looked at him tensely as he came closer and closer. Suddenly he was in front of me, standing with his boots on both sides of my body. With his shining sword he started yelling at me (they always did). I was too afraid to cry. He yelled something to the other Japs en started pricking with his sword around me. He also took my doll and pulled her head off and looked inside her. They were looking for hidden jewels and money. I smelled his breath, when he bent over me again. He grinned and barked something to me in Japanese and finally left, waving his sword. That I, as a 9 year old, didn’t wet my pants is a miracle. After this I never stayed alone in my bed even when I was very ill. As far as I am concerned I was very lucky to have survived this event.
Dinkie
Another Remarkable Event.
ANOTHER REMARKABLE EVENT
1963. We lived in Moordrecht, the children were 7, 6 and 5 years old. We had a normal newly built house in a neighbourhood with many children and a very good physician.
Walter, our eldest son, never had a problem, but the two girls were ill often. Every year they had ear- and throat infections and high fever. After consulting our physician, it was decided that their tonsils had to be taken out. So we went to the hospital in Gouda. They had to stay there overnight.I went through the procedure with them for many hours, to show them what exactly would happen with them every step of the way, so there would be no surprises for them. Then I had to bring them. It was the first time they didn’t sleep at home, which was terrible most of all for me. At six o’clock the next day I was dressed and at seven I went to the hospital and by nine o’clock we were home again. The youngest, Elizabeth was pale but healthy and happy. Arlette was still very ill. At the end of the afternoon she had a very high fever. She cried and she felt sick. Suddeny she vomited, it was terrible, blood and blood clots everywhere. Hysterical I called the physician and told him what had happened. He was with us in a jiffy, he looked at her, cursed and said: “a bleeding”. Put her immediately flat on her back and put a bucket beside her. Blood ran with a small trickle from her mouth into the bucket. What you’re going through in that moment is indescribable. He called the hospital and consulted the surgeon. He was very angry and before I knew it he had also called a neighbour who had been a nurse because the surgeon was coming to our house and insisted that there had to be a trained nurse present when he came. Arlette couldn’t be moved.
Deadly quiet my little darling lay there with the small trickle of blood coming out of her mouth and I saw her getting paler by the minute. I have never been so afraid. The surgeon came and I stayed at her headside. He made me quiet, white and darling Arlette opened her mouth and without her uttering any sound, he burned the wound in her throat. The nurse went down and was gone, but our physician stood next to the surgeon and helped him. The bleeding stopped. They listened to her lungs as she had gotten blood in her lungs. I have never seen a physician so angry. She got an injection of penecilline. Together we put her to bed and I stayed with her to look after her and making sure the bleeding didn’t return. She was only allowed to have a teaspoon of water every now and then, nothing more. She lay there perfectly still for hours. At 11.00 hours p.m. I ran down the stairs, out of the door to my left neighbour (we hadn’t spoken to each other for two years). I rang the bell and she opened the door. I said: you have been to Lourdes haven’t you? Yes,Yes she said. I asked: did you bring back some water from Lourdes? Yes, Dinkie, I did, she responded. May I please have some of it, I asked. Of course, she said and put water out of the Lourdes bottle in a cup and gave it to me. Good luck with your little Arlette, she said. Thank you, I answered. I ran back home and went quietly back to my little girl and asked if she was asleep. No mamma, she said. Okay dear, do you want some water? Don’t talk just nod. She nodded. I gave her, praying in silence, some of the Lourdes water and repeated that every 3 hours. At 8 o’clock in the morning she woke up. To my surprise she looked good. Smiling she asked me if she could get out of bed. Stunned I looked at her, everything seemed okay even the fever was gone. I cried with joy, she was allright. I washed her and gave her clean clothes and put her very carefully to bed again. Our physician came around 9 o’clock and was amazed to she her so cheerful. He asked her to sit with her face to the window and looked at her throat. This is very strange, he said after also taking her temperature, the fever is also gone.
He turned around and listened to her lungs, looked at me and literally said: a miracle has happened.
I can’t see anything in her throat anymore, the fever is gone and her lungs are much better. She has to finish the antibiotics, but it is unbelievable, this is really remarkable. He walked away shaking his head. My heart was overflowing with joy.
I went back to my neighbour and told her what had occurred. We stayed friends for as long as we lived in that house. My deep gratitude for this absolute miracle has always stayed with me. Now you can find more of Arlette’s doing on the website HYPERLINK "http://www.yogadoen.nl" www.yogadoen.nl .
Dinkie
Thursday, May 15, 2008
ECKHART TOLLE
Being in the classroom with Ophra and Eckhart Tolle with a million other people, it’s unbelievable. People from all over the world participate and follow the lessons. Via Skype questions are being asked from all countries, such as Russia, Ireland, Hawaii, Hongkong, etc. What a special feeling it gives you, knowing that all these people are doing the same thing, all trying to be more understanding, feel more freedom and more feelings for each other and the world. Especially letting your own ego go, all together. Eckhart Tolle’s book (A new world) and his explanation give you the feeling that it is that simple, everyone can do it and should try it.
Dinkie
1963. We lived in Moordrecht, the children were 7, 6 and 5 years old. We had a normal newly built house in a neighbourhood with many children and a very good physician.
Walter, our eldest son, never had a problem, but the two girls were ill often. Every year they had ear- and throat infections and high fever. After consulting our physician, it was decided that their tonsils had to be taken out. So we went to the hospital in Gouda. They had to stay there overnight.I went through the procedure with them for many hours, to show them what exactly would happen with them every step of the way, so there would be no surprises for them. Then I had to bring them. It was the first time they didn’t sleep at home, which was terrible most of all for me. At six o’clock the next day I was dressed and at seven I went to the hospital and by nine o’clock we were home again. The youngest, Elizabeth was pale but healthy and happy. Arlette was still very ill. At the end of the afternoon she had a very high fever. She cried and she felt sick. Suddeny she vomited, it was terrible, blood and blood clots everywhere. Hysterical I called the physician and told him what had happened. He was with us in a jiffy, he looked at her, cursed and said: “a bleeding”. Put her immediately flat on her back and put a bucket beside her. Blood ran with a small trickle from her mouth into the bucket. What you’re going through in that moment is indescribable. He called the hospital and consulted the surgeon. He was very angry and before I knew it he had also called a neighbour who had been a nurse because the surgeon was coming to our house and insisted that there had to be a trained nurse present when he came. Arlette couldn’t be moved.
Deadly quiet my little darling lay there with the small trickle of blood coming out of her mouth and I saw her getting paler by the minute. I have never been so afraid. The surgeon came and I stayed at her headside. He made me quiet, white and darling Arlette opened her mouth and without her uttering any sound, he burned the wound in her throat. The nurse went down and was gone, but our physician stood next to the surgeon and helped him. The bleeding stopped. They listened to her lungs as she had gotten blood in her lungs. I have never seen a physician so angry. She got an injection of penecilline. Together we put her to bed and I stayed with her to look after her and making sure the bleeding didn’t return. She was only allowed to have a teaspoon of water every now and then, nothing more. She lay there perfectly still for hours. At 11.00 hours p.m. I ran down the stairs, out of the door to my left neighbour (we hadn’t spoken to each other for two years). I rang the bell and she opened the door. I said: you have been to Lourdes haven’t you? Yes,Yes she said. I asked: did you bring back some water from Lourdes? Yes, Dinkie, I did, she responded. May I please have some of it, I asked. Of course, she said and put water out of the Lourdes bottle in a cup and gave it to me. Good luck with your little Arlette, she said. Thank you, I answered. I ran back home and went quietly back to my little girl and asked if she was asleep. No mamma, she said. Okay dear, do you want some water? Don’t talk just nod. She nodded. I gave her, praying in silence, some of the Lourdes water and repeated that every 3 hours. At 8 o’clock in the morning she woke up. To my surprise she looked good. Smiling she asked me if she could get out of bed. Stunned I looked at her, everything seemed okay even the fever was gone. I cried with joy, she was allright. I washed her and gave her clean clothes and put her very carefully to bed again. Our physician came around 9 o’clock and was amazed to she her so cheerful. He asked her to sit with her face to the window and looked at her throat. This is very strange, he said after also taking her temperature, the fever is also gone.
He turned around and listened to her lungs, looked at me and literally said: a miracle has happened.
I can’t see anything in her throat anymore, the fever is gone and her lungs are much better. She has to finish the antibiotics, but it is unbelievable, this is really remarkable. He walked away shaking his head. My heart was overflowing with joy.
I went back to my neighbour and told her what had occurred. We stayed friends for as long as we lived in that house. My deep gratitude for this absolute miracle has always stayed with me. Now you can find more of Arlette’s doing on the website HYPERLINK "http://www.yogadoen.nl" www.yogadoen.nl .
Dinkie
Thursday, May 15, 2008
ECKHART TOLLE
Being in the classroom with Ophra and Eckhart Tolle with a million other people, it’s unbelievable. People from all over the world participate and follow the lessons. Via Skype questions are being asked from all countries, such as Russia, Ireland, Hawaii, Hongkong, etc. What a special feeling it gives you, knowing that all these people are doing the same thing, all trying to be more understanding, feel more freedom and more feelings for each other and the world. Especially letting your own ego go, all together. Eckhart Tolle’s book (A new world) and his explanation give you the feeling that it is that simple, everyone can do it and should try it.
Dinkie
zondag 14 november 2010
Mr Lee.
MR. LEE
We lived high up in the mountains again. This time in the house of the grandmother of our neighbours in Surabaya. This dear grandmother, who was very happy we were living with her together with her grandchildren Wil, 10 years old and Eep, 13 years old, was suffering from a severe form of diabetes, had a nurse, a lovely Indonesian woman. My grandmother was with us too. My father stayed in the city to protect our house over there and worked as long as it was possible.
It was an uneasy time in Surabaya after the lost battle in the Pacific of the dutch army and losing a lot of our men. Many indonesian gangs went pillaging and murdering through the country. They were mainly targeted at Chinese and white people. Everyone was waiting for the Japs to come. It was an uneasy, anxious time.
Next door to us lived a wealthy Chinese, Mr. Lee. He was an old, rich, retired and very strange man. Mr. Lee’s front yard was wide and wild, only grass. In this grass 8 geese were living, very frightful geese.
His entrance was right next to our garden, a large iron fence around it and a gate with a high pergola. From this gate to the gate and the fence next to his house, which lay deep into the garden, was a path. If you opened the first gate, all eight geese flew up and attacked you, which was very hurtful. So you had to run for your life to the next gate beside the white house. This did not only happen to us, but also to the employees of Mr. Lee, what we found very amusing. His house was a low, wide white house, at the back of it was the entrance, which we had never seen.
Then the looting began (in Indonesian it is called rampokken), also in the mountains where we lived. Various shops owned by Chinese were set ablaze and several people were even found dead. Fear hit all of us to the heart. We were four defenseless women, four children and two trustful male employees, who were not young anymore. We were suddenly unable to get out. I remember that my mother read stories to us for hours. We got homework and had to draw. Not being allowed to go outside in the tropics is a severe punishment. At night you heard the shooting, it was really scary, specially as it came closer and closer.
“Elsie”, said my mother, “this is not good”. It became increasingly anxious and suddenly one morning also the staff did not show up. We were terrified. Usually if the staff stayed away, they knew something we didn’t know and so they stayed away. My mother had already asked everywhere if there was someone left to help us, without any result.
That awful day suddenly the phone rang, which shocked us to death. Luckily it was only Mr. Lee, who in very poor Dutch asked how we were doing. My mother told him that our employees left and that we were very afraid. He asked if we had a gun or other weapons. That we had not. He then asked my mother if she would allow him to help us. Yes please, said my mother, not understanding how such an old Chinese man could help us. Mr. Lee told us to make an opening in the hedge so we could come to his garden. With pain and difficulty all of us together succeeded to make an opening. While doing this we were attacked by the geese, which was making us crazy. They were so strong and false. When the opening was big enough we quickly covered it with a plate. Mr. Lee called again and asked if we were ready. Yes, my mother said, although we covered the hole with a plate to keep away the geese. “Okay”, said Mr. Lee and hung up the phone. We still didn’t understand how he could help us. That night we, all together, slept in the living room on the floor, allthough none of us really slept. Everything was shut tight, very stuffy in the mountains and it was deadly silent. At night the shooting began and it came closer and closer. At a certain moment we heard footsteps on the gravel. Wil’s grandmother started to cry: “we will be set on fire”.
“Hush”, said my mother. Stiffened we waited, more footsteps, rustling and then a bang. This is it, we will be set on fire. We heard an awful lot of footsteps, my mother held my grandmother. Then more huge bangs. Huddled together we waited. Then there was an awful noise, people were running and then everything was silent. We waited. An hour later our telephone went, we were shocked to death again, it was Mr. Lee saying: “Go back to sleep, there will be no more trouble”. My private army has driven them away from your property. Sleep well (“selamat tidoer” in Indonesian), my people will watch over the two houses. We couldn’t believe our ears, but indeed it remained quiet. We slept until late in the morning. In the morning our employees even returned. Everything was peaceful and normal. At night Mr. Lee’s private army watched over us, until everything in the village and beyond was back to normal, and than the police finaly took over, that gave us a peace of mind. My father was very worried when he heard the whole story.
We were very happy that this small, rich, old Chinese man, was so kind to rescue us. The next time when we were finaly able to go in to the street again, we ran throug the gate of mr.Lee's house followed by the fearful geese biting us, to bring him presents and flowers to thank him personally for saving our lives, his house was beautiful inside and full of antiques, he was gleaming all over, because he had surprised us.
We had to go back again, with the awful geese behind us making a terrible noise. After several weeks we had to go back to the city Surabaya, to my father, we were sad to leave this old nice man behind and also the dear grandmother, who just later before we all were put in to concentration camps, died. Thank God for here, no medicines in the camps. Dinkie.
We lived high up in the mountains again. This time in the house of the grandmother of our neighbours in Surabaya. This dear grandmother, who was very happy we were living with her together with her grandchildren Wil, 10 years old and Eep, 13 years old, was suffering from a severe form of diabetes, had a nurse, a lovely Indonesian woman. My grandmother was with us too. My father stayed in the city to protect our house over there and worked as long as it was possible.
It was an uneasy time in Surabaya after the lost battle in the Pacific of the dutch army and losing a lot of our men. Many indonesian gangs went pillaging and murdering through the country. They were mainly targeted at Chinese and white people. Everyone was waiting for the Japs to come. It was an uneasy, anxious time.
Next door to us lived a wealthy Chinese, Mr. Lee. He was an old, rich, retired and very strange man. Mr. Lee’s front yard was wide and wild, only grass. In this grass 8 geese were living, very frightful geese.
His entrance was right next to our garden, a large iron fence around it and a gate with a high pergola. From this gate to the gate and the fence next to his house, which lay deep into the garden, was a path. If you opened the first gate, all eight geese flew up and attacked you, which was very hurtful. So you had to run for your life to the next gate beside the white house. This did not only happen to us, but also to the employees of Mr. Lee, what we found very amusing. His house was a low, wide white house, at the back of it was the entrance, which we had never seen.
Then the looting began (in Indonesian it is called rampokken), also in the mountains where we lived. Various shops owned by Chinese were set ablaze and several people were even found dead. Fear hit all of us to the heart. We were four defenseless women, four children and two trustful male employees, who were not young anymore. We were suddenly unable to get out. I remember that my mother read stories to us for hours. We got homework and had to draw. Not being allowed to go outside in the tropics is a severe punishment. At night you heard the shooting, it was really scary, specially as it came closer and closer.
“Elsie”, said my mother, “this is not good”. It became increasingly anxious and suddenly one morning also the staff did not show up. We were terrified. Usually if the staff stayed away, they knew something we didn’t know and so they stayed away. My mother had already asked everywhere if there was someone left to help us, without any result.
That awful day suddenly the phone rang, which shocked us to death. Luckily it was only Mr. Lee, who in very poor Dutch asked how we were doing. My mother told him that our employees left and that we were very afraid. He asked if we had a gun or other weapons. That we had not. He then asked my mother if she would allow him to help us. Yes please, said my mother, not understanding how such an old Chinese man could help us. Mr. Lee told us to make an opening in the hedge so we could come to his garden. With pain and difficulty all of us together succeeded to make an opening. While doing this we were attacked by the geese, which was making us crazy. They were so strong and false. When the opening was big enough we quickly covered it with a plate. Mr. Lee called again and asked if we were ready. Yes, my mother said, although we covered the hole with a plate to keep away the geese. “Okay”, said Mr. Lee and hung up the phone. We still didn’t understand how he could help us. That night we, all together, slept in the living room on the floor, allthough none of us really slept. Everything was shut tight, very stuffy in the mountains and it was deadly silent. At night the shooting began and it came closer and closer. At a certain moment we heard footsteps on the gravel. Wil’s grandmother started to cry: “we will be set on fire”.
“Hush”, said my mother. Stiffened we waited, more footsteps, rustling and then a bang. This is it, we will be set on fire. We heard an awful lot of footsteps, my mother held my grandmother. Then more huge bangs. Huddled together we waited. Then there was an awful noise, people were running and then everything was silent. We waited. An hour later our telephone went, we were shocked to death again, it was Mr. Lee saying: “Go back to sleep, there will be no more trouble”. My private army has driven them away from your property. Sleep well (“selamat tidoer” in Indonesian), my people will watch over the two houses. We couldn’t believe our ears, but indeed it remained quiet. We slept until late in the morning. In the morning our employees even returned. Everything was peaceful and normal. At night Mr. Lee’s private army watched over us, until everything in the village and beyond was back to normal, and than the police finaly took over, that gave us a peace of mind. My father was very worried when he heard the whole story.
We were very happy that this small, rich, old Chinese man, was so kind to rescue us. The next time when we were finaly able to go in to the street again, we ran throug the gate of mr.Lee's house followed by the fearful geese biting us, to bring him presents and flowers to thank him personally for saving our lives, his house was beautiful inside and full of antiques, he was gleaming all over, because he had surprised us.
We had to go back again, with the awful geese behind us making a terrible noise. After several weeks we had to go back to the city Surabaya, to my father, we were sad to leave this old nice man behind and also the dear grandmother, who just later before we all were put in to concentration camps, died. Thank God for here, no medicines in the camps. Dinkie.
Wonderful Day At Dauwendaele
WONDERFUL DAY AT DAUWENDAELE
Yesterday we had a wonderful day (reunion) of the KJBB (Children from the Japanese occupation and the Bersiap 1941-1949) in Dauwendaele in Middelburg (province of Zeeland in Holland).
A lively band played led by Mr. E. Nutsman. We had a delicious lunch with Indonesian food, prepared by restaurant Surabya. There were also guest performance from the women’s vocal quartet “Nock on Wood”. They sang English songs from the forties. Everyone thought these ladies did surprisingly well, I admired what they did. It was a wonderful day and we old people have lustily sung, accompanied by the band, songs of our tropical past.
Every two years we look forward to this day. You enter the world of your youth and that makes you feel well. Now that you no longer need to participate in the hectic life, you have more time to think about the earlier times, spend far away in an other country. Those years have made a deep impression and are crystal clear in your memory.
It was mainly the living with your parents that the fundamentals of the rest of your life have shaped in such a beautiful and imposing country with its magnificent mountains, forests and coasts. I have no nostalgia for those days, but remember it with great pleasure. Also this day I will remember, Dinky.
Yesterday we had a wonderful day (reunion) of the KJBB (Children from the Japanese occupation and the Bersiap 1941-1949) in Dauwendaele in Middelburg (province of Zeeland in Holland).
A lively band played led by Mr. E. Nutsman. We had a delicious lunch with Indonesian food, prepared by restaurant Surabya. There were also guest performance from the women’s vocal quartet “Nock on Wood”. They sang English songs from the forties. Everyone thought these ladies did surprisingly well, I admired what they did. It was a wonderful day and we old people have lustily sung, accompanied by the band, songs of our tropical past.
Every two years we look forward to this day. You enter the world of your youth and that makes you feel well. Now that you no longer need to participate in the hectic life, you have more time to think about the earlier times, spend far away in an other country. Those years have made a deep impression and are crystal clear in your memory.
It was mainly the living with your parents that the fundamentals of the rest of your life have shaped in such a beautiful and imposing country with its magnificent mountains, forests and coasts. I have no nostalgia for those days, but remember it with great pleasure. Also this day I will remember, Dinky.
dinsdag 2 november 2010
A Remarkable Occurrence.
A REMARKABLE OCCURRUNCE
As written before, we landed in a neighbourhood in Malang. Imagine a large residential area surrounded by high fence with barbed wire, cars stolen by the Japanese, streets completely empty. In each villa 10 unknown people were dropped, can you imagine what that meant for the owners of the villa’s. People everywhere, who have to sleep, eat and bath in your house without being able to complain about it, because if you did you were put in jail. It created a lot of racket, as we also found out. The lady of the house was totally annoyed all her beautiful furniture and things being ruined, all those people who slept in her living- and dining room, a disaster.
My parents decided to live in their garage. My grandmother, unfortunately had to stay with the lady of the house, until also my father had to leave as well as all the men over 18 years. How my parents got it done, I don’t remember, but chests arrived one day with sewing boxes and books from our house in Soerabaja. My mother started a library in the garage and earned some money that way. At the front gate was a small market where locals were allowed to sell their goods to our Dutch women. We played outside a lot. In the middle of the residential area was a large park, a part of which was grass and a part was a wood with very small fir trees. We climbed a lot in these trees. A big boy of about 15 to 16 years was dominating all the children. He was long, slender and had a lot of curly red-blond hair. His name was Henk. He was a nice fellow and in love with one of the older girls, Jaennie. He had chosen me to be his “postillion d’amour”. I had to take his notes and wait for her to write a note back to him. I did this for as long as we lived there. To thank me for doing this I was the only one allowed to ride on the back of his bike, I was a girl of 8 years then. Behind the bike also a line of roller skating children, the last one of the line sometimes fell in a hedge, but was always able to join the line again.
Despite the distress about our fathers, it was because of him, Henk, that we felt happy as a group. We talked a lot about the Japs, the departure of our fathers and the question on how to earn money, as none of our families recieved a salary. Families only received some milk, butter, a bit of sugar and some other things. When that was finished it was tough luck. My mother embroidered charming brooches and other beautiful things. I went from door to door to sell these and with that we also earned a little bit. Some days Henk accompanied me on his bike. After a couple of months this period came to an end and we had to leave for Solo. We all thought it was terrible and I remember that Henk, another girl and me talked one night until late to say goodbye and wish each other strenght.
Again we could only take so many things as we could carry and left this camp, also leaving our father behind, not knowing when we would evr see him again and what to expect next.
Years later, back in Holland, in 1953 when the dikes broke down and flooded one of Holland’s provinces, Zeeland, we, all the girls from the Haanstra teacher training college gathered together working and helping everywhere we could.
One of my best friends at that time was Riet, who lived in Leiden. With her I did a teaching practice in a nursery school in Leiden. Her boyfriend just broke up with her and she was very sad. I had a boyfriend too, later my ex.
At the end of every year we had a school dance in the “Burcht” in Leiden. It was something special, we had long dresses made for this dance and a big band was playing. We looked forward to it, except for Riet, who had no-one to accompany her. I asked my boyfriend if he couldn’t ask one of his friends to take her. As he didn’t really fancy to go with me alone, because he didn’t know anyone at the party, he was happy to ask one of his friends. I didn’t know any of his friends then, as I had just started going out with him. His friend first wanted to meet Riet, before going with her to the dance. Thus we arranged to go to the cinema, the four of us. Riet and I stood at the cinema in Leiden waiting for the boys and there was my friend and next to him someone who was very familiar to me. He had the same feeling. He was long tall and with red curley hair. I asked him: are you perhaps Henk from Malang?" Yes, he said and aren’t you Dinkie, the little girl with the pigtails?
There we were in Leiden me and my friend from the camp, who later married my friend Riet. For many years after, we saw a lot of each other, also later with our kids, arranged parties together and shared our worries. It always gave me a familiar happy feeling every time we were together. After 20 years we were both divorced and our lives went in seperate ways. Just before Henk died, he has been visiting us here in Zeeland and I could say goodbye to him, knowing I would not see him again as he was very ill. My friend, Riet who also lived in zeeland by this time, also died a couple of months after him. They both were very lovely persons and Ieft me with wonderful memories, gratefull to have known them both. Dinkie.
As written before, we landed in a neighbourhood in Malang. Imagine a large residential area surrounded by high fence with barbed wire, cars stolen by the Japanese, streets completely empty. In each villa 10 unknown people were dropped, can you imagine what that meant for the owners of the villa’s. People everywhere, who have to sleep, eat and bath in your house without being able to complain about it, because if you did you were put in jail. It created a lot of racket, as we also found out. The lady of the house was totally annoyed all her beautiful furniture and things being ruined, all those people who slept in her living- and dining room, a disaster.
My parents decided to live in their garage. My grandmother, unfortunately had to stay with the lady of the house, until also my father had to leave as well as all the men over 18 years. How my parents got it done, I don’t remember, but chests arrived one day with sewing boxes and books from our house in Soerabaja. My mother started a library in the garage and earned some money that way. At the front gate was a small market where locals were allowed to sell their goods to our Dutch women. We played outside a lot. In the middle of the residential area was a large park, a part of which was grass and a part was a wood with very small fir trees. We climbed a lot in these trees. A big boy of about 15 to 16 years was dominating all the children. He was long, slender and had a lot of curly red-blond hair. His name was Henk. He was a nice fellow and in love with one of the older girls, Jaennie. He had chosen me to be his “postillion d’amour”. I had to take his notes and wait for her to write a note back to him. I did this for as long as we lived there. To thank me for doing this I was the only one allowed to ride on the back of his bike, I was a girl of 8 years then. Behind the bike also a line of roller skating children, the last one of the line sometimes fell in a hedge, but was always able to join the line again.
Despite the distress about our fathers, it was because of him, Henk, that we felt happy as a group. We talked a lot about the Japs, the departure of our fathers and the question on how to earn money, as none of our families recieved a salary. Families only received some milk, butter, a bit of sugar and some other things. When that was finished it was tough luck. My mother embroidered charming brooches and other beautiful things. I went from door to door to sell these and with that we also earned a little bit. Some days Henk accompanied me on his bike. After a couple of months this period came to an end and we had to leave for Solo. We all thought it was terrible and I remember that Henk, another girl and me talked one night until late to say goodbye and wish each other strenght.
Again we could only take so many things as we could carry and left this camp, also leaving our father behind, not knowing when we would evr see him again and what to expect next.
Years later, back in Holland, in 1953 when the dikes broke down and flooded one of Holland’s provinces, Zeeland, we, all the girls from the Haanstra teacher training college gathered together working and helping everywhere we could.
One of my best friends at that time was Riet, who lived in Leiden. With her I did a teaching practice in a nursery school in Leiden. Her boyfriend just broke up with her and she was very sad. I had a boyfriend too, later my ex.
At the end of every year we had a school dance in the “Burcht” in Leiden. It was something special, we had long dresses made for this dance and a big band was playing. We looked forward to it, except for Riet, who had no-one to accompany her. I asked my boyfriend if he couldn’t ask one of his friends to take her. As he didn’t really fancy to go with me alone, because he didn’t know anyone at the party, he was happy to ask one of his friends. I didn’t know any of his friends then, as I had just started going out with him. His friend first wanted to meet Riet, before going with her to the dance. Thus we arranged to go to the cinema, the four of us. Riet and I stood at the cinema in Leiden waiting for the boys and there was my friend and next to him someone who was very familiar to me. He had the same feeling. He was long tall and with red curley hair. I asked him: are you perhaps Henk from Malang?" Yes, he said and aren’t you Dinkie, the little girl with the pigtails?
There we were in Leiden me and my friend from the camp, who later married my friend Riet. For many years after, we saw a lot of each other, also later with our kids, arranged parties together and shared our worries. It always gave me a familiar happy feeling every time we were together. After 20 years we were both divorced and our lives went in seperate ways. Just before Henk died, he has been visiting us here in Zeeland and I could say goodbye to him, knowing I would not see him again as he was very ill. My friend, Riet who also lived in zeeland by this time, also died a couple of months after him. They both were very lovely persons and Ieft me with wonderful memories, gratefull to have known them both. Dinkie.
The Ufo's Okay.
The Ufo's
Okay, a lot of people will be startled now, but as my father would say: “investigate everything and just keep the good things”.
In 1977 Willem and I were in Saudi Arabia in a camp (compound) in the middle
of the dessert, in Jubail, a place far from civilization. My son Andy was also with us and going to school there.
Imagine, in the middle of a huge sandpit, two camps (compounds) were built with walls around them. Again a camp, this time staying there out of free will. People living here were all working for a joint venture with Adriaan Volker, Hochtief (a German company) and CCC (a Libanese company). We were a mixed group one can say with also some English and Scots. It was quite an experience.
In this camp, we all lived in the same prefab houses. All houses were equally furnished, very simple. Under a shelter, we had a small terrace where you could only sit in the evening, due to the heat, during the day.
Later I will tell more about our life there in the dessert with all these wonderful people. The men worked really hard, building a harbour and were gone a lot.
For the women and the children there was a swimming pool, a general building and a small supermarket, where seldom there was anything to buy, because there was hardly any stock and when there was, it was very expensive. As there was hardly anything on TV or on the radio and no nice shops and no telephone,
the days were long and boring.
At that time in Holland people spoke about and were concerned about Ufo’s. Because of the many books and articles and all those people talking about it, I became also interested. One has to keep oneself informed. To form an opinion for myself whether I really believed in the phenomenon Ufo, I would absorb as much reading material as possible. I therefore had taken many books about Ufo’s. After reading them all, I still couldn’t form on opinion on how I though about it.
Then, there in the dessert, I started reading the last book on this topic, The Trojan Horse of John A. Keal, a scientific author, he wrote about: “Ufo’s, who are they, where are they coming from and where are they going to”. He wrote wonderfull and before I knew it, the story completely absorbed me, it was very exciting. In the small footnotes he wrote that while writing his enormous book, he encountered many strange things, including predictive dreams, which really came true. For instance, a telephone ringing day and night and when he picked it up, someone told him that a bridge would collapse and believe it or not, it really did. Often when he was called and picked up the phone there was no-one on the other side, this happened a lot at night when he was asleep, so that he felt as if he was guarded.
To my surprise, when reading this thrilling book, I received letters from my children in Holland, who lived in our house, writing that they went crazy by some idiot calling them at all times in the night. It was so bad that they even called upon the PTT (Telephone company) for help. While I was reading this book, I got more than one letter from them about this occurrence. The telephone company could not give them any information why this was happening, they couldn’t locate the caller either.
As of the moment that I finished the book, the telephone terror stopped and letters told me that there were no more calls at night, isn’t that strange Mam?
All of this amazed me and funny enough heard about two persons, who lived miles apart from each other, one in Curacao and one in England, who both claimed they had seen Ufo’s for real. The person from Curacao together with a lot other people claimed to have seen about a 100 flying over. The one from England had seen them very close by one night while they were driving home. They had been very scared.
My opinion on this phenomenon just lead us to give our sailing boat the name UFO. We have been very happy on this boat, so who knews.
Dinkie
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Okay, a lot of people will be startled now, but as my father would say: “investigate everything and just keep the good things”.
In 1977 Willem and I were in Saudi Arabia in a camp (compound) in the middle
of the dessert, in Jubail, a place far from civilization. My son Andy was also with us and going to school there.
Imagine, in the middle of a huge sandpit, two camps (compounds) were built with walls around them. Again a camp, this time staying there out of free will. People living here were all working for a joint venture with Adriaan Volker, Hochtief (a German company) and CCC (a Libanese company). We were a mixed group one can say with also some English and Scots. It was quite an experience.
In this camp, we all lived in the same prefab houses. All houses were equally furnished, very simple. Under a shelter, we had a small terrace where you could only sit in the evening, due to the heat, during the day.
Later I will tell more about our life there in the dessert with all these wonderful people. The men worked really hard, building a harbour and were gone a lot.
For the women and the children there was a swimming pool, a general building and a small supermarket, where seldom there was anything to buy, because there was hardly any stock and when there was, it was very expensive. As there was hardly anything on TV or on the radio and no nice shops and no telephone,
the days were long and boring.
At that time in Holland people spoke about and were concerned about Ufo’s. Because of the many books and articles and all those people talking about it, I became also interested. One has to keep oneself informed. To form an opinion for myself whether I really believed in the phenomenon Ufo, I would absorb as much reading material as possible. I therefore had taken many books about Ufo’s. After reading them all, I still couldn’t form on opinion on how I though about it.
Then, there in the dessert, I started reading the last book on this topic, The Trojan Horse of John A. Keal, a scientific author, he wrote about: “Ufo’s, who are they, where are they coming from and where are they going to”. He wrote wonderfull and before I knew it, the story completely absorbed me, it was very exciting. In the small footnotes he wrote that while writing his enormous book, he encountered many strange things, including predictive dreams, which really came true. For instance, a telephone ringing day and night and when he picked it up, someone told him that a bridge would collapse and believe it or not, it really did. Often when he was called and picked up the phone there was no-one on the other side, this happened a lot at night when he was asleep, so that he felt as if he was guarded.
To my surprise, when reading this thrilling book, I received letters from my children in Holland, who lived in our house, writing that they went crazy by some idiot calling them at all times in the night. It was so bad that they even called upon the PTT (Telephone company) for help. While I was reading this book, I got more than one letter from them about this occurrence. The telephone company could not give them any information why this was happening, they couldn’t locate the caller either.
As of the moment that I finished the book, the telephone terror stopped and letters told me that there were no more calls at night, isn’t that strange Mam?
All of this amazed me and funny enough heard about two persons, who lived miles apart from each other, one in Curacao and one in England, who both claimed they had seen Ufo’s for real. The person from Curacao together with a lot other people claimed to have seen about a 100 flying over. The one from England had seen them very close by one night while they were driving home. They had been very scared.
My opinion on this phenomenon just lead us to give our sailing boat the name UFO. We have been very happy on this boat, so who knews.
Dinkie
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
About me
About me Dinkie
My website is about contacts with people who, just like me, have been in a Japanese concentration camp.
Problems which came to surface later, I dealt with myself. This blog tells you how I overcame these and how you can get old cheerfully. Homeotherapeutical medicines helped as well.
I will regularly write pieces about resolving things with my children and grandchildren. It might be of use to my readers as well. Relationships with daughters and sons and daughters- and sons in law are often tumultuous, therefore this item will also be addressed in my blog. I will also give some insight in recepis I use, book & film reviews and all other hobbies of mine, that give me a lot of pleasure. I am also interested in reincarnation and UFO's. Freedom is my highest priority, yours, Dinkie.
My website is about contacts with people who, just like me, have been in a Japanese concentration camp.
Problems which came to surface later, I dealt with myself. This blog tells you how I overcame these and how you can get old cheerfully. Homeotherapeutical medicines helped as well.
I will regularly write pieces about resolving things with my children and grandchildren. It might be of use to my readers as well. Relationships with daughters and sons and daughters- and sons in law are often tumultuous, therefore this item will also be addressed in my blog. I will also give some insight in recepis I use, book & film reviews and all other hobbies of mine, that give me a lot of pleasure. I am also interested in reincarnation and UFO's. Freedom is my highest priority, yours, Dinkie.
donderdag 21 oktober 2010
The Gurka's
THE GURKA’S
Slowly the feeling of freedom spread to Java, the war was over the japanees had lost,we were enjoying our freedom, with music and friends, who came to us from other camps, especially the man.
At that time we were in camp 9 or 11 in Ambarawa. It used to be a school for girls run by nuns. At the square before the camp was a church and many trees. Entering the camp you found yourself in the hall, here were also the kitchens and various other rooms.The whole school was situated on hill slope.
The Japs were living in the actual schoolbuilding, we where staying in the nuns convent and other buildings.
The first part of our camp started below and then went up. On the top was a large grass field surrounded by barracks, where many women and children lived and slept. At the end of the field were the toilets on the right and left was another huge barrack. Behind this barrack a small path with a long wall lead to a U formed galery. In the galery were very small rooms of circa 4 square meters. In those rooms we had to sleep with 8 people. In the middle of the U galery was a small building with toilets and two showers. At the end of the U was an open field reaching all the way up to the wall that surrounded everything.
In this open field was a nice tree, where we, the children, gathered and played. It was our area.
After the liberation men and boys came back. The first men and boys were welcomed with cheers.
Lots of other people visited our camp bringing sad and serious news of the other camps.
The Indonesian people did not accept the oppression of the whites anymore and tried to make this clear to murder or imprison the white people, who they found on their ways, looking for family members.
We enjoyed the return of the boys and men, among whom were doctors and technicians, who in turn could help us.
While sitting in that lovely tree, enjoying freedom all of a sudden three bullets flew around me. Falling out of the tree and hearing all women yell for their children, I realized that something was wrong, but what was not clear yet.
We ran to our rooms and ducked under the window sills laying flat on the ground while bullets flew around us. Suddenly we were attacked by Indonesian men, who came over the wall and drove us out of the rooms with rifles through the small corridors to the other side. There on the top of the grass field everyone ran as chickens without a head. The men came from everywhere with coloured faces, rifles and hand grenades. They besieged the large group on the grass field. In the surrounding buildings women barricaded the rooms with their beds and chests, but the Indonesians wanted them out also. Everyone had to go to the grass field. The rest of the angry men stood in half a circle yelling at us and pointing their riffles.
They became nervous because it took so much time to get everyone out. They were so nervous that they began to shoot.
The scenes that took place in front of our eyes was like a hollywood film. Everyone was running and fleeing in all directions. After a while we reached a toilet at the end of the field where we locked ourselves in. We stood there in mortal fear thinking that, after all the misery we had survived, we would now die anyway.
Then we suddenly heard a terrible noise and loud yells, this was it, this was the end. But someone shrieked: the Gurka’s, the Gurka’s. Nobody believed it until one of the Gurka's jumped off the roof of the toilet and grinned at us. He ran to the grassfield with his riffle. Everyone waited deadly quiet. The infernal racket was deafening. All you heard was yelling, shooting of machine-guns, all very scary. We felt our hearts thumping in our throats with fear but also with expectation, hoping they could save us.
My God, pugnacious they climed over the roofs, coming from everywhere and within an hour all was over. Deadly silence.
Silently everyone came out of their hiding places and after taking care of the wounded and counting the death, it hit us, we realized that we were liberated again.
A Scottish major was leading these incredible, well trained, strong and lightning fast and sometimes cruel fighters. The Indonesians they caught, found no mercy.
We thought: that is it, but from the woods on the hill the fighting started again.
Never will I forget, what the Gurka’s did for us. The way they came into action after a 3-day journey deadly tired and hungry after being warned by a couple of men from the camp that in the camp women and childred were murdered by the Indonesian. And then again fighting with bullets in their legs for another three days. The bullets were later removed, not in an operating theatre and without morphine, but somewhere in a hiding place with bullets flying over our heads. Never had I felt such admiration for those little men from India, who so heroicly saved women and children under the leadership of a Scottish major and a couple of English officers. Mind you the English were really great then.
With trucks we were taken from this dangerous camp and driven to Banjoebiroe and from there to Semarang to the coast. The whole way from Banjoebiroe to Semarang was bombed by an English warship from out of the sea, it looked as if someone had shaven a large path through the forest. Escorted by English soldiers in jeeps along side, behind and before us the women and children in the trucks covered with mattresses were brought to the coast. The soldiers were joking and singing all the time. We sang along and laughed a lot during this frightning journey. Once in a while we stopped and then the soldiers jumped out of the jeeps and started shooting back at anything that moved. When everything was quiet again we went on. Also in Semarang our stay with all those English was full of joy. They learned us to sing their songs, we were dancing and having fun with them. Thus the anxious days passed quickly. With a ship of the troops, the Amhurst Victory, we sailed to Batavia and from there, with a lot of other people we departed for Holland with the Klipfontein.
I am incredibly grateful of the heroic Gurka’s as well as the English soldiers and the great Scottish major. From the moment they rescued us until our departure to Holland they gave us many pleasant moments and the feeling of safety. Unfortunately I was never able to thank them personally for liberating us the second time.
Dinkie
Slowly the feeling of freedom spread to Java, the war was over the japanees had lost,we were enjoying our freedom, with music and friends, who came to us from other camps, especially the man.
At that time we were in camp 9 or 11 in Ambarawa. It used to be a school for girls run by nuns. At the square before the camp was a church and many trees. Entering the camp you found yourself in the hall, here were also the kitchens and various other rooms.The whole school was situated on hill slope.
The Japs were living in the actual schoolbuilding, we where staying in the nuns convent and other buildings.
The first part of our camp started below and then went up. On the top was a large grass field surrounded by barracks, where many women and children lived and slept. At the end of the field were the toilets on the right and left was another huge barrack. Behind this barrack a small path with a long wall lead to a U formed galery. In the galery were very small rooms of circa 4 square meters. In those rooms we had to sleep with 8 people. In the middle of the U galery was a small building with toilets and two showers. At the end of the U was an open field reaching all the way up to the wall that surrounded everything.
In this open field was a nice tree, where we, the children, gathered and played. It was our area.
After the liberation men and boys came back. The first men and boys were welcomed with cheers.
Lots of other people visited our camp bringing sad and serious news of the other camps.
The Indonesian people did not accept the oppression of the whites anymore and tried to make this clear to murder or imprison the white people, who they found on their ways, looking for family members.
We enjoyed the return of the boys and men, among whom were doctors and technicians, who in turn could help us.
While sitting in that lovely tree, enjoying freedom all of a sudden three bullets flew around me. Falling out of the tree and hearing all women yell for their children, I realized that something was wrong, but what was not clear yet.
We ran to our rooms and ducked under the window sills laying flat on the ground while bullets flew around us. Suddenly we were attacked by Indonesian men, who came over the wall and drove us out of the rooms with rifles through the small corridors to the other side. There on the top of the grass field everyone ran as chickens without a head. The men came from everywhere with coloured faces, rifles and hand grenades. They besieged the large group on the grass field. In the surrounding buildings women barricaded the rooms with their beds and chests, but the Indonesians wanted them out also. Everyone had to go to the grass field. The rest of the angry men stood in half a circle yelling at us and pointing their riffles.
They became nervous because it took so much time to get everyone out. They were so nervous that they began to shoot.
The scenes that took place in front of our eyes was like a hollywood film. Everyone was running and fleeing in all directions. After a while we reached a toilet at the end of the field where we locked ourselves in. We stood there in mortal fear thinking that, after all the misery we had survived, we would now die anyway.
Then we suddenly heard a terrible noise and loud yells, this was it, this was the end. But someone shrieked: the Gurka’s, the Gurka’s. Nobody believed it until one of the Gurka's jumped off the roof of the toilet and grinned at us. He ran to the grassfield with his riffle. Everyone waited deadly quiet. The infernal racket was deafening. All you heard was yelling, shooting of machine-guns, all very scary. We felt our hearts thumping in our throats with fear but also with expectation, hoping they could save us.
My God, pugnacious they climed over the roofs, coming from everywhere and within an hour all was over. Deadly silence.
Silently everyone came out of their hiding places and after taking care of the wounded and counting the death, it hit us, we realized that we were liberated again.
A Scottish major was leading these incredible, well trained, strong and lightning fast and sometimes cruel fighters. The Indonesians they caught, found no mercy.
We thought: that is it, but from the woods on the hill the fighting started again.
Never will I forget, what the Gurka’s did for us. The way they came into action after a 3-day journey deadly tired and hungry after being warned by a couple of men from the camp that in the camp women and childred were murdered by the Indonesian. And then again fighting with bullets in their legs for another three days. The bullets were later removed, not in an operating theatre and without morphine, but somewhere in a hiding place with bullets flying over our heads. Never had I felt such admiration for those little men from India, who so heroicly saved women and children under the leadership of a Scottish major and a couple of English officers. Mind you the English were really great then.
With trucks we were taken from this dangerous camp and driven to Banjoebiroe and from there to Semarang to the coast. The whole way from Banjoebiroe to Semarang was bombed by an English warship from out of the sea, it looked as if someone had shaven a large path through the forest. Escorted by English soldiers in jeeps along side, behind and before us the women and children in the trucks covered with mattresses were brought to the coast. The soldiers were joking and singing all the time. We sang along and laughed a lot during this frightning journey. Once in a while we stopped and then the soldiers jumped out of the jeeps and started shooting back at anything that moved. When everything was quiet again we went on. Also in Semarang our stay with all those English was full of joy. They learned us to sing their songs, we were dancing and having fun with them. Thus the anxious days passed quickly. With a ship of the troops, the Amhurst Victory, we sailed to Batavia and from there, with a lot of other people we departed for Holland with the Klipfontein.
I am incredibly grateful of the heroic Gurka’s as well as the English soldiers and the great Scottish major. From the moment they rescued us until our departure to Holland they gave us many pleasant moments and the feeling of safety. Unfortunately I was never able to thank them personally for liberating us the second time.
Dinkie
donderdag 7 oktober 2010
dinsdag 5 oktober 2010
The Holy Tree.
Once again we had a house in the mountains. This time also with a huge lawn around it. The lawn was completely surrounded by a fence. At one end the fence came a bit inward, behind that spot a lot of bushes were growing on a small hill. Behind the bushes stood an enormous tree. To give you an idea how large the tree was, it needed tree people with outstreched arms to embrace its trunk. In the middle of the lawn was our swimming pool, where we spent many days.
Almost every day we heard people going to the tree singing songs and praying. It appeared to be a holy tree. The Indonesian people brought the most delicious food, sweets and cookies and other things in bananaleaves, as an offer to their holy tree. It all looked and smelled wonderful. As we looked at it, it made our mouth water. Our “baboe”, the Indonesian word for household help, told us that if you brought food to the tree, nothing bad will happen to you.
One day we sneaked of through the fence to look at the tree closely. With amazement we looked at all the delicacies laying there. My brother said:”I would like to try some of this food when everyone is gone. I did not think that was a good idea and told him that when he did something terrible would happen to him. My brother looked at me in surprise saying: “do you really believe that rubbish?”
Of course we went back to the tree again, when everyone was taking a nap in the afternoon, in the Tropics it is custom to rest in the afternoon. Nobody was there and no one was in sight. My brother bent carefully forward to have a closer look at the food and select something he really liked. Before he could take something, we heard a loud rustle in the bushes. Although we were afraid of nothing, we actually were scared of snakes. We left quickly because we thought the noise came from snakes.
The next time we went, making sure no one saw us, my brother again tried to take some of the delicacies. Once more we heard the loud rustle, it was so loud that we stayed in our tracks very silently, seeing the bushes going back and forth. There is nothing said my brother. Yes, I said there is a probably a snake also eating something of the food.
We ran away then.
From that day onwards we have never been back to the tree trying to take something away. Instead we went to put some food there ourselves, hoping that it also protected us from bad luck and indeed it did, nothing really bad happened to us, we were all still alive and healthy. Dinky
Dinkie
Almost every day we heard people going to the tree singing songs and praying. It appeared to be a holy tree. The Indonesian people brought the most delicious food, sweets and cookies and other things in bananaleaves, as an offer to their holy tree. It all looked and smelled wonderful. As we looked at it, it made our mouth water. Our “baboe”, the Indonesian word for household help, told us that if you brought food to the tree, nothing bad will happen to you.
One day we sneaked of through the fence to look at the tree closely. With amazement we looked at all the delicacies laying there. My brother said:”I would like to try some of this food when everyone is gone. I did not think that was a good idea and told him that when he did something terrible would happen to him. My brother looked at me in surprise saying: “do you really believe that rubbish?”
Of course we went back to the tree again, when everyone was taking a nap in the afternoon, in the Tropics it is custom to rest in the afternoon. Nobody was there and no one was in sight. My brother bent carefully forward to have a closer look at the food and select something he really liked. Before he could take something, we heard a loud rustle in the bushes. Although we were afraid of nothing, we actually were scared of snakes. We left quickly because we thought the noise came from snakes.
The next time we went, making sure no one saw us, my brother again tried to take some of the delicacies. Once more we heard the loud rustle, it was so loud that we stayed in our tracks very silently, seeing the bushes going back and forth. There is nothing said my brother. Yes, I said there is a probably a snake also eating something of the food.
We ran away then.
From that day onwards we have never been back to the tree trying to take something away. Instead we went to put some food there ourselves, hoping that it also protected us from bad luck and indeed it did, nothing really bad happened to us, we were all still alive and healthy. Dinky
Dinkie
zondag 3 oktober 2010
How the war in Indonesie Started.
25th January 2008
How the war in Indonesia began
Before we knew, they were there, the small yellow coloured men, the Japanese. My parents were terribly afraid. A lot had already happened, the battle at the Java sea was lost, many friends lost their lives. War for an eight year old child is impalpable.
One night we were startled by a noise in the house. One of our servants, who went to his family we thought, stood severely injured in our back garden. My parents helped him. He was very seriously manhandled by the Japs they believed he was a spy. He told them about us and his work with us as a djongos. Fearing for his life, my parents hided him. It was time to flee, because the Japs would certainly come to search for him. In the middle of the night our parents woke us up. Outside in the garden were two ox carts being loaded very silently, no one spoke. My grandmother, Elsie, was also there. Very carefully making no noise the carts were filled with most of our belongings. When that was done, we left through the dark streets of Soerabaja in the direction of the mountains.
The wounded servant was also with us, laying in the last cart.
My father said: there are many barriers set up by the Japs on the main roads we have to be carefull. My heart turned in my stomach, because when a Jap caught you, they would interrogate you in their camps and that certainly would not be good. We had heard the most terrible stories about it.
So we took the very small village alleys and were as quiet as mice. The only noise to be heard were the cracks of the carts and the wip we sometimes had to use to get the oxes going. The carts rolled back and forth as well as the lamps hanging above them.
Finally, my father said: we have made it. We were on our way to Nongodjadjar, a holiday resort well known to us. Our servant got off and disappeared in the night.
Slowly we climbed up the road and heard the sounds of the woods. Next to every small village we passed, were small stalls, huts covered with bamboe, where one could drink coffee or eat rice, shish kebab or something else. People didn’t drink the coffee from cups, but slurped it from a saucer.
The smell of the charcoal mixed with the smell of the shish kebab was delicious.
We silently passed through this country I loved so much, with its beautiful scenery and well known sounds in the direction of the mountains. Now and then the moon lighted up the sky and you could see the breathtaking view.
Far away from the village Nongodjadjar my parents had rented a house on the slopes of the mountains. The house and its vicinity contained and provided everything, you did need. The house was squarely built and beautiful. On the ground floor was a kitchen, a storage room, a room with a breeding machine for chickens, a room to curdle milk or to make butter of yoghurt and a room with lots of tools.
In the kitchen a staircase led to the big square verandah, which was covered and fenced. On all four corners were telescopes, so we could see the mountains far away and the valley below. We often looked through them, specially when my father was due to arrive, so we could always see him coming up. He was still working in Soerabaja. He could only come over during the weekend, untill that was not possible any more. The verandah was great, we spent many hours there running and playing.
We also had a vegetable garden and a stable with a pig and a cow. The cow provided us with milk from which we also made butter. Further we had a lot of chickens. We used the incubator to breed them so we always had enough eggs and chicken meat. Behind all this was a huge cornfield. My brother and I hided ourselves there and created thus our own safe space. There we hoped to survive the Japs.
The fresh bread we could make, the milk and butter of our own cow made sure we had a good life. We were very lonely though. With our dog, Spankie, we walked in the mountains and had fun.
Every evening the spiritus lamps were lightened and we drank hot cacao. Sometimes my mother read us a story, if she was not too tired. Once in a while a local man from the nearby village came with groceries or the mail or to help my mother.
One day we were invited to a Javanese wedding in the nearby village. A wedding here lasts a day and a night. We slept in the village in one of the houses of a local resident, who was very kind to us. It was a wonderful party with lots of food, sweets in various colours and Indonesian puppets. People were dancing till late at night.
In the morning we went to the kali(river). In the kali, one does everything, such as washing yourselves, brushing your teeth and even doing your needs.
For months we stayed happily in our house in the mountains until one evening my father came back. He and my mother spoke for hours during this evening. Next morning we were told that we had to go back to Soerabaja and from there to Malang a town nearby. If we did not do that we would be killed by the Japs. Everything we owned was either sold or given away, even our beloved dog.
We were devastated but crying did not help, we went back to Soerabaja, after two weeks clearing our beloved house in the mountains. From there on in trucks to Malang with even less lugage. We only were allowed to take what we could carry ourselves. We were intensely sad of all the things we had to leave behind.
We did not know then that the worst was still to come, i.e. saying goodbye to my father and the rest .....
Dinkie
How the war in Indonesia began
Before we knew, they were there, the small yellow coloured men, the Japanese. My parents were terribly afraid. A lot had already happened, the battle at the Java sea was lost, many friends lost their lives. War for an eight year old child is impalpable.
One night we were startled by a noise in the house. One of our servants, who went to his family we thought, stood severely injured in our back garden. My parents helped him. He was very seriously manhandled by the Japs they believed he was a spy. He told them about us and his work with us as a djongos. Fearing for his life, my parents hided him. It was time to flee, because the Japs would certainly come to search for him. In the middle of the night our parents woke us up. Outside in the garden were two ox carts being loaded very silently, no one spoke. My grandmother, Elsie, was also there. Very carefully making no noise the carts were filled with most of our belongings. When that was done, we left through the dark streets of Soerabaja in the direction of the mountains.
The wounded servant was also with us, laying in the last cart.
My father said: there are many barriers set up by the Japs on the main roads we have to be carefull. My heart turned in my stomach, because when a Jap caught you, they would interrogate you in their camps and that certainly would not be good. We had heard the most terrible stories about it.
So we took the very small village alleys and were as quiet as mice. The only noise to be heard were the cracks of the carts and the wip we sometimes had to use to get the oxes going. The carts rolled back and forth as well as the lamps hanging above them.
Finally, my father said: we have made it. We were on our way to Nongodjadjar, a holiday resort well known to us. Our servant got off and disappeared in the night.
Slowly we climbed up the road and heard the sounds of the woods. Next to every small village we passed, were small stalls, huts covered with bamboe, where one could drink coffee or eat rice, shish kebab or something else. People didn’t drink the coffee from cups, but slurped it from a saucer.
The smell of the charcoal mixed with the smell of the shish kebab was delicious.
We silently passed through this country I loved so much, with its beautiful scenery and well known sounds in the direction of the mountains. Now and then the moon lighted up the sky and you could see the breathtaking view.
Far away from the village Nongodjadjar my parents had rented a house on the slopes of the mountains. The house and its vicinity contained and provided everything, you did need. The house was squarely built and beautiful. On the ground floor was a kitchen, a storage room, a room with a breeding machine for chickens, a room to curdle milk or to make butter of yoghurt and a room with lots of tools.
In the kitchen a staircase led to the big square verandah, which was covered and fenced. On all four corners were telescopes, so we could see the mountains far away and the valley below. We often looked through them, specially when my father was due to arrive, so we could always see him coming up. He was still working in Soerabaja. He could only come over during the weekend, untill that was not possible any more. The verandah was great, we spent many hours there running and playing.
We also had a vegetable garden and a stable with a pig and a cow. The cow provided us with milk from which we also made butter. Further we had a lot of chickens. We used the incubator to breed them so we always had enough eggs and chicken meat. Behind all this was a huge cornfield. My brother and I hided ourselves there and created thus our own safe space. There we hoped to survive the Japs.
The fresh bread we could make, the milk and butter of our own cow made sure we had a good life. We were very lonely though. With our dog, Spankie, we walked in the mountains and had fun.
Every evening the spiritus lamps were lightened and we drank hot cacao. Sometimes my mother read us a story, if she was not too tired. Once in a while a local man from the nearby village came with groceries or the mail or to help my mother.
One day we were invited to a Javanese wedding in the nearby village. A wedding here lasts a day and a night. We slept in the village in one of the houses of a local resident, who was very kind to us. It was a wonderful party with lots of food, sweets in various colours and Indonesian puppets. People were dancing till late at night.
In the morning we went to the kali(river). In the kali, one does everything, such as washing yourselves, brushing your teeth and even doing your needs.
For months we stayed happily in our house in the mountains until one evening my father came back. He and my mother spoke for hours during this evening. Next morning we were told that we had to go back to Soerabaja and from there to Malang a town nearby. If we did not do that we would be killed by the Japs. Everything we owned was either sold or given away, even our beloved dog.
We were devastated but crying did not help, we went back to Soerabaja, after two weeks clearing our beloved house in the mountains. From there on in trucks to Malang with even less lugage. We only were allowed to take what we could carry ourselves. We were intensely sad of all the things we had to leave behind.
We did not know then that the worst was still to come, i.e. saying goodbye to my father and the rest .....
Dinkie
The Village Story.
A VILLAGE STORY
When I heard the next story of an occurrence that took place in our village I thought I have to write this down. It gives you an idea on how you can reach an old age.
A bachelor of 75 years, who neglected himself a bit, was living in a beautiful farm with some land around it.
In the winter he was always ill, mostly with bronchitis. The physician came often and gave him antibiotics. The old man was probably too thrifty to stoke and old houses are humid and draughty. Every winter the man was very weak and his neighbours feared for his life.
His neighbours, who helped him a lot, had the lunimous idea to buy his farm for a low price 98.000 guilders and in addition they would give him a hot meal every evening for as long as he lived.
The old bachelor rather liked the idea. As he had no next of kin the deal was made.
Everyone believed that the neighbours were very lucky that they were enabled to make such a wonderful deal. They all thought that it would not be long before the old sick and feeble man would die. But believe it or not, this sick and weak man became 96 years old. For 21 years the neighbours had to cook diner for this man every day.
So you see, if you want to get old, you have to close such a deal.
The farm was later sold for 198,000 guilders and you can say that both parties were very lucky. Dinkie.
When I heard the next story of an occurrence that took place in our village I thought I have to write this down. It gives you an idea on how you can reach an old age.
A bachelor of 75 years, who neglected himself a bit, was living in a beautiful farm with some land around it.
In the winter he was always ill, mostly with bronchitis. The physician came often and gave him antibiotics. The old man was probably too thrifty to stoke and old houses are humid and draughty. Every winter the man was very weak and his neighbours feared for his life.
His neighbours, who helped him a lot, had the lunimous idea to buy his farm for a low price 98.000 guilders and in addition they would give him a hot meal every evening for as long as he lived.
The old bachelor rather liked the idea. As he had no next of kin the deal was made.
Everyone believed that the neighbours were very lucky that they were enabled to make such a wonderful deal. They all thought that it would not be long before the old sick and feeble man would die. But believe it or not, this sick and weak man became 96 years old. For 21 years the neighbours had to cook diner for this man every day.
So you see, if you want to get old, you have to close such a deal.
The farm was later sold for 198,000 guilders and you can say that both parties were very lucky. Dinkie.
zondag 26 september 2010
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