DEAR ANJA
The scary black car came closer, slowly creeping up the street like a monster. It stopped in front of the house, where we just said goodbye to our dear young friend (45 years only), who 10 years after a long battle against cancer, had left us. Standing next to our car, we looked at this big nasty black car, why black, so penetrating, so gloomy, she had to leave her wonderful husband and son of 15 years.
All very understandable to the mind, but your heart said otherwise and it was with pain we had to see that, that black monster would take her away forever. This sweet creature, Anja came into our lives quite unexpectedly. We were the only witnesses to their marriage. They were both modern, young, true individualists, a nice modern different pair, both could have been our kids. We were deeply moved by this very special gesture, weddings of my own children we had missed or were painful, this gave us a wonderful feeling.
In the amazing old city hall of Brouwershaven, we were both there as the only witnesses of this commitment. Who would ever have guessed that that black monster, would separate them for good. A happy sunny day we spent with them, lunch in Veere, dining in Zierikzee, great weather, beautiful images. In the background the lake of Veere, it was a very happy day. They then already lived in an old farm in our village. Ruud, my husband’s ex-son in law with Anja. Ruud, playing in a heavy metal band, crazy about boats, a great sailor with the same hobbies as Willem, guitars and boats.
About 6 years later they bought an authentic old freighter, 26 meters long, which had to be totally restored, but they went to live in it anyway with their new-born son, Joeri. Those were years of hard toil and spending much money, but the result was more than worth it, it became a beautiful sailing sailfreighter.
Then suddenly Anja felt the first lump, everything was completely removed even the lymph nodes. Five fearful but peaceful years followed, sailing, enjoying, sailing in France and loving to live on the freighter in the water. Joeri liked life on the big boat, swimming, fishing and many friends in the harbor, a good life and both parents enjoyed their special kid.
There was a large drumkit in the boat, because Joeri is also filled with music and now plays as 15 year old in a band.
Suddenly, being on holiday, after 5 years a small lump on the other side. Then the deadly road began, without any mercy, in the most severe form of suffering, which lasted 5 years, a merciless struggle for all three which ended with the terrible black monster at the door. The farewell of their beloved wife and mother. We also witnessed all this senseless suffering and sadness, powerless, helpless.
We had to say goodbye to this lovely creature, Anja, who was only given such a short time with us. Dinkie
zaterdag 27 augustus 2011
AN ACCIDENT IN FEBRUARY 1975
After a serious accident to my right eye I lay flat in the Eye hospital Leyenburg in The Hague. I was not allowed to move, not even to go to the bathroom, everything had to be done lying down, until it was safe and not dangerous anymore. After five days I was finally allowed to sit in bed and the 6th day they took me to the X-ray department in a wheelchair. They wanted to make an x-ray of my eye socket to see whether it was broken. When arriving at the X-ray department there was a man who looked a little bit strange, like someone artificial, but with radiant bright blue eyes and a very friendly smile.
Scared and nervous I was waiting what would happen if it was broken, I didn’t know. “So”, the man with the beautiful blue eyes said “are you a bit nervous”. “Don’t be it is just an x-ray”. “Yes, I know, but what if my eye socket is broken?” “ don't worry about that, that is nothing, they can fix it”. Curiously I asked him, why are you here? Well. my child, I have fallen down from the 20th floor, a screen first protected me a bit, then I fell into the bushes. In a large bucket they took me to the hospital. I had almost broken everything one can break. I’ve been in various hospitals for the past five years and had up to 15 surgeries and you see, I am still here and almost all my limbs are plastic.
Stunned, I said: but you are still good looking. He looked at me and smiled." That is the nicest compliment I’ve had in 5 years, thank you." ‘
The ice was broken then and during our long wait we drank coffee and talked and laughed about all his new limbs. This is an event you will never forget and luckily my eye socket wasn’t broken and after seven days I went home to my kids cheerfully.
But I have never forgotten the man with the beautiful blue eyes hoping, he had a nice life after all, he deserved it, Dinkie.
MIRACLES EXIST – THE SECOND MIRACLE (herhaling september 2007
After a serious accident to my right eye I lay flat in the Eye hospital Leyenburg in The Hague. I was not allowed to move, not even to go to the bathroom, everything had to be done lying down, until it was safe and not dangerous anymore. After five days I was finally allowed to sit in bed and the 6th day they took me to the X-ray department in a wheelchair. They wanted to make an x-ray of my eye socket to see whether it was broken. When arriving at the X-ray department there was a man who looked a little bit strange, like someone artificial, but with radiant bright blue eyes and a very friendly smile.
Scared and nervous I was waiting what would happen if it was broken, I didn’t know. “So”, the man with the beautiful blue eyes said “are you a bit nervous”. “Don’t be it is just an x-ray”. “Yes, I know, but what if my eye socket is broken?” “ don't worry about that, that is nothing, they can fix it”. Curiously I asked him, why are you here? Well. my child, I have fallen down from the 20th floor, a screen first protected me a bit, then I fell into the bushes. In a large bucket they took me to the hospital. I had almost broken everything one can break. I’ve been in various hospitals for the past five years and had up to 15 surgeries and you see, I am still here and almost all my limbs are plastic.
Stunned, I said: but you are still good looking. He looked at me and smiled." That is the nicest compliment I’ve had in 5 years, thank you." ‘
The ice was broken then and during our long wait we drank coffee and talked and laughed about all his new limbs. This is an event you will never forget and luckily my eye socket wasn’t broken and after seven days I went home to my kids cheerfully.
But I have never forgotten the man with the beautiful blue eyes hoping, he had a nice life after all, he deserved it, Dinkie.
MIRACLES EXIST – THE SECOND MIRACLE (herhaling september 2007
zondag 7 augustus 2011
Babysitting, Eva and David
BABYSITTING
We have three daughters in law, none of these three were the type to held their mother in law close to their bossom and say,I will always be kind to her, who is expecting this will soon be disillusioned. It is more like: don’t bother me and I will not bother you. In Brussels they would be envious to reach this kind of understanding.
Very great was my surprise, when I was asked to take care of my youngest son’s daughter, my third grandchild who lives in the same village as we do. I felt honored that they had so much faith in me (stupid, stupid). It had to be permanent for at least a couple of years. Though, I was very pleased and happy that that beautiful baby was mine alone one day weekly, I was also afraid for the responsibility of such a small human being, who would be completely depending from us, but also overjoyed in a way, again taking care of a baby now on this age in my life, to start again, was something I never had expected.
We bought a little cot, mattress, trolley, etc., which was fun but also expensive. Other things were purchased, such as a drinking cup, diapers and much more. My life started again. And then there she was for the first time, the sweat was pouring down on me at the first diaper change, the first bottle, the burp, etc. Everything had to be on time, also the sleeping, this especially was difficult for me, every 6 minutes I went to check if she was okay. On one of her shows Oprah had talked about SIDS and this had made me anxious. After 1½ years my blood pressure was so high, that the doctor suggested, to look after her only half days, which I didn’t do at first, I rather took pills. We managed to do it for almost 3 years, then she went to the crèche (day nursery) in the mornings until one o’clock and at half past 1 we were there every week, thrilled to take here home. I loved the time I spend with her, together with Willem, it was our baby on that day and we hugged her a lot. We couldn’t get enough of our dear little Eva. We bought her lots of things, it was great to be able to spoil her. We played with dolls, kitchens, a doll house, it was wonderful. We enjoyed the company of this little girl very much. She had trouble sleeping, just like her father used to. So in the afternoon around 2 p.m. we went for a drive in the car with the baby on my lap and sure enough after 15 minutes she fell asleep and we went somewhere quiet near the water watching sailboats. When my arm went to sleep, Willem took her over carefully and so she slept for 2 hours in a row. When she became too old for this and didn’t sleep anymore in the afternoons, we went to all the playgrounds on the island, to all garden centers, to the beaches and also to the children’s carnival, a big hall with inflatable equipment, slides and other inflatables. After these outings we ate pancakes and drank something. We always had a delightful time. In those 14 years we spent many hours running, climbing and panting on our bare feet after Eva. In the evenings we were broken and drained, but still we enjoyed it enormously having her and eating ice cream with her. In all those years she never cried once when being with us. She never had a tiny accident nothing at all.
But now at 76 years, with also her lovely little brother present,it is, although I find it very enteraining, sometimes a little too much for us. I start dreading the babysitting when I am not feeling good or we are a little bit sick and tired. That obligation each week is making it diffucult, because the parents are counting on us, but we try to do it as long as we can and I hope we can manage to do it for one or to years more. I love these grandchildren so much, that I also must learn to let go. Now after almost 14 years the nanny time is over and I hope to enjoy the delightful company of these two children for a long long time in a different way.
I think that now the time has come that we can say, when asked to babysit: yes, now we are feeling fine and we can take care of them this evening or that afternoon. We will always be there for these two. But still we are having the bigger David and Eva every tuesday after school, but when they just drop by we love it the most.
Dinky
We have three daughters in law, none of these three were the type to held their mother in law close to their bossom and say,I will always be kind to her, who is expecting this will soon be disillusioned. It is more like: don’t bother me and I will not bother you. In Brussels they would be envious to reach this kind of understanding.
Very great was my surprise, when I was asked to take care of my youngest son’s daughter, my third grandchild who lives in the same village as we do. I felt honored that they had so much faith in me (stupid, stupid). It had to be permanent for at least a couple of years. Though, I was very pleased and happy that that beautiful baby was mine alone one day weekly, I was also afraid for the responsibility of such a small human being, who would be completely depending from us, but also overjoyed in a way, again taking care of a baby now on this age in my life, to start again, was something I never had expected.
We bought a little cot, mattress, trolley, etc., which was fun but also expensive. Other things were purchased, such as a drinking cup, diapers and much more. My life started again. And then there she was for the first time, the sweat was pouring down on me at the first diaper change, the first bottle, the burp, etc. Everything had to be on time, also the sleeping, this especially was difficult for me, every 6 minutes I went to check if she was okay. On one of her shows Oprah had talked about SIDS and this had made me anxious. After 1½ years my blood pressure was so high, that the doctor suggested, to look after her only half days, which I didn’t do at first, I rather took pills. We managed to do it for almost 3 years, then she went to the crèche (day nursery) in the mornings until one o’clock and at half past 1 we were there every week, thrilled to take here home. I loved the time I spend with her, together with Willem, it was our baby on that day and we hugged her a lot. We couldn’t get enough of our dear little Eva. We bought her lots of things, it was great to be able to spoil her. We played with dolls, kitchens, a doll house, it was wonderful. We enjoyed the company of this little girl very much. She had trouble sleeping, just like her father used to. So in the afternoon around 2 p.m. we went for a drive in the car with the baby on my lap and sure enough after 15 minutes she fell asleep and we went somewhere quiet near the water watching sailboats. When my arm went to sleep, Willem took her over carefully and so she slept for 2 hours in a row. When she became too old for this and didn’t sleep anymore in the afternoons, we went to all the playgrounds on the island, to all garden centers, to the beaches and also to the children’s carnival, a big hall with inflatable equipment, slides and other inflatables. After these outings we ate pancakes and drank something. We always had a delightful time. In those 14 years we spent many hours running, climbing and panting on our bare feet after Eva. In the evenings we were broken and drained, but still we enjoyed it enormously having her and eating ice cream with her. In all those years she never cried once when being with us. She never had a tiny accident nothing at all.
But now at 76 years, with also her lovely little brother present,it is, although I find it very enteraining, sometimes a little too much for us. I start dreading the babysitting when I am not feeling good or we are a little bit sick and tired. That obligation each week is making it diffucult, because the parents are counting on us, but we try to do it as long as we can and I hope we can manage to do it for one or to years more. I love these grandchildren so much, that I also must learn to let go. Now after almost 14 years the nanny time is over and I hope to enjoy the delightful company of these two children for a long long time in a different way.
I think that now the time has come that we can say, when asked to babysit: yes, now we are feeling fine and we can take care of them this evening or that afternoon. We will always be there for these two. But still we are having the bigger David and Eva every tuesday after school, but when they just drop by we love it the most.
Dinky
donderdag 23 juni 2011
The Violated Trust from a 6 Year Old Girl in Indonesie in 1940
VIOLATED TRUST
Slowly the traffic from the city Surabaya dawned on her. There I was, 6 years old, together with my mother in a “dokkar” (horse carriage). I looked at my beautiful dress, which I’was allowed to pick out myself. The horse was galloping gently with bells tinkling, the coachman gave light taps with his whip. My mother looked beautiful. Very happy I looked at the bustle around me, for once just alone with my dear mother without my brother. My mother said:" my darling girl, we are going to visit your uncle, dr. Hammacher in the hospital for a while, before we go together to the city". I nodded. My uncle was familiar to me, he was a cousin of my father. I had even lived with him for 3 months, when I was 2 years old. Vaguely I remembered some things, lots of freedom and attention. Skipping joyously, I walked with my mother into the hospital. A nun greeted my mother and me and said: the doctor is in the operating room, you know the one around the corner, third door. And there he was, sitting on a chair next to the operating table. Quickly I went to him and kissed him on his cheek. Hello, my dear little girl, he said." How are you, have you ever seen an operating room, ". "No" ,I said. "Do you know what this is? It’s an operating table." "Oh", I said, "it is big". Full of confidence I looked from him to the table. "Would you like to sit on it?", I nodded. He lifted me on it. Just lie down, he said. Yes, why not, I thought. “Look, he said this is a cap they use to cover your face” and so he did. Suddenly I got anguished and frightened, I fought and struggled like crazy, what's this", then I fell in the deep darkness and was gone. When I opened my eyes again, I had the feeling that knifes were in my throat and I started to cry. Nuns came and gave me some ice water, which I refused and kept on crying. In this pure white room with windows at both sides were three beds. My bed was on the inside and I looked out on the big wide corridor. On the other side of the room you looked on to the veranda. We were at the end of the corridor and you could see large wide steps going down to a beautiful garden. In this large corridor several people were lying on couches with small tables next to them and there were big plants everywhere. Of the three of us I was the eldest, I was 6 years old. I was furious and very sad, ate and drank nothing, refusing everything. The nuns were desperate. My parents appeared on the veranda, but were not allowed to come in because of the risk of infection, a real threat in the tropics (penicilline was not yet invented). The only thing I showed them was my angry back. My uncle and the nuns were desperate, whatever they tried, I absolutely didn’t want anything and kept this up.
In the corridor there also was a young and very tall priest, who had come very ill out of the bush, he had severe malaria and was recovering now. He smiled and waved at me sometimes. The nuns told him about my behavior. He said: “let me try”. When I woke up in the morning, again feeling terrible, he stood smiling friendly at my bedside and immediately started to tell me an exciting story, while carefully feeding me juice with ice. As of that day he took care of me for the remainder of my stay. He washed, fed, comforted me and told me stories. The nuns were fine by it and so he became my personal nurse. When I was allowed to walk around after four days, I always sat with him in the corridor. I systematically refused to see or greet my parents, I always turned my back to them.
After 7 days I was allowed to go home, I held on to tables, chairs and doorways, I didn’t want to leave him. After talking to me for hours about his work in the bush and all the dangers and sick people there, I understood that I had to say farewell to my great friend. He gave me a lovely snow white ring, wich fitted me very good, I finally, bathing in tears, said goodbye to my dear friend and caregiver. Sadly, I’ve never seen him again, but I’ve never forgotten him either.
When my daughters were to be operated on their tonsils, I played doctor and nurses with them for hours, telling them what would happen, so they knew and when the moment came, they were ready and fully prepaired for it.
Dinkie
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Slowly the traffic from the city Surabaya dawned on her. There I was, 6 years old, together with my mother in a “dokkar” (horse carriage). I looked at my beautiful dress, which I’was allowed to pick out myself. The horse was galloping gently with bells tinkling, the coachman gave light taps with his whip. My mother looked beautiful. Very happy I looked at the bustle around me, for once just alone with my dear mother without my brother. My mother said:" my darling girl, we are going to visit your uncle, dr. Hammacher in the hospital for a while, before we go together to the city". I nodded. My uncle was familiar to me, he was a cousin of my father. I had even lived with him for 3 months, when I was 2 years old. Vaguely I remembered some things, lots of freedom and attention. Skipping joyously, I walked with my mother into the hospital. A nun greeted my mother and me and said: the doctor is in the operating room, you know the one around the corner, third door. And there he was, sitting on a chair next to the operating table. Quickly I went to him and kissed him on his cheek. Hello, my dear little girl, he said." How are you, have you ever seen an operating room, ". "No" ,I said. "Do you know what this is? It’s an operating table." "Oh", I said, "it is big". Full of confidence I looked from him to the table. "Would you like to sit on it?", I nodded. He lifted me on it. Just lie down, he said. Yes, why not, I thought. “Look, he said this is a cap they use to cover your face” and so he did. Suddenly I got anguished and frightened, I fought and struggled like crazy, what's this", then I fell in the deep darkness and was gone. When I opened my eyes again, I had the feeling that knifes were in my throat and I started to cry. Nuns came and gave me some ice water, which I refused and kept on crying. In this pure white room with windows at both sides were three beds. My bed was on the inside and I looked out on the big wide corridor. On the other side of the room you looked on to the veranda. We were at the end of the corridor and you could see large wide steps going down to a beautiful garden. In this large corridor several people were lying on couches with small tables next to them and there were big plants everywhere. Of the three of us I was the eldest, I was 6 years old. I was furious and very sad, ate and drank nothing, refusing everything. The nuns were desperate. My parents appeared on the veranda, but were not allowed to come in because of the risk of infection, a real threat in the tropics (penicilline was not yet invented). The only thing I showed them was my angry back. My uncle and the nuns were desperate, whatever they tried, I absolutely didn’t want anything and kept this up.
In the corridor there also was a young and very tall priest, who had come very ill out of the bush, he had severe malaria and was recovering now. He smiled and waved at me sometimes. The nuns told him about my behavior. He said: “let me try”. When I woke up in the morning, again feeling terrible, he stood smiling friendly at my bedside and immediately started to tell me an exciting story, while carefully feeding me juice with ice. As of that day he took care of me for the remainder of my stay. He washed, fed, comforted me and told me stories. The nuns were fine by it and so he became my personal nurse. When I was allowed to walk around after four days, I always sat with him in the corridor. I systematically refused to see or greet my parents, I always turned my back to them.
After 7 days I was allowed to go home, I held on to tables, chairs and doorways, I didn’t want to leave him. After talking to me for hours about his work in the bush and all the dangers and sick people there, I understood that I had to say farewell to my great friend. He gave me a lovely snow white ring, wich fitted me very good, I finally, bathing in tears, said goodbye to my dear friend and caregiver. Sadly, I’ve never seen him again, but I’ve never forgotten him either.
When my daughters were to be operated on their tonsils, I played doctor and nurses with them for hours, telling them what would happen, so they knew and when the moment came, they were ready and fully prepaired for it.
Dinkie
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
A TERRIBLE DAY
It was mid 1968. At that time we lived in Voorschoten in de Papenlaan, in a lovely house. At the age of 35 I passed for my driving license after 3 trials and made it a habit to take my now ex husband once a week to his work at the Waal harbour or another harbour so I could use the car for the rest of the day, mostly to run errands for the kids or sometimes to take them on a shopping spree. At half past five I drove back to Rotterdam to pick up my ex, there were no traffic jams then. Often one or two of the kids came along, also that day my daughter Arlette and her friend Wilma. Before driving to Rotterdam we went to Wassenaar to do one more errand and I saw a hitchhiker wanting to go to Rotterdam. I said: okay, get in, but you have to be patient because before driving to Rotterdam we first have to do a couple of things. That is no problem Madam, said the nice and very shy young man of about 23 years. For an hour he accompanied us everywhere, also to our house in Voorschoten. He sat sweet and perfectly still and let it all come over him, the loud music, the rush and our running to and fro. Finally we were on our way to Rotterdam. He didn’t want anything to eat or drink, although I offered it several times to him. Just as we came on the highway, bang, a flat tire. The young man immediately lamented that he couldn’t help me, as he didn’t know how to assist, he had nothing with cars. Furthermore he said: I play the piano and I am very careful with my hands. I said: dear boy, don’t worry, I can do anything and we all stepped out of the car. Anyway, mother went to work. In those days I was fashionably dressed, very hip, high-heeled boots. Unfortunately that was not the right clothing for the job, but I succeeded. The tire was replaced. The spectators were clearly relieved. Then I tried getting the hup cap back in place hitting it with my hands, which failed, it fell off again and again. Slightly irritated I sat on my rear end, pulled up one leg and leaned backwards so I could give it a smack with my high heel. At the moment I darted out, the silent young man suddenly put his hand on the wheel cover too keep it in place and got my whole heel in his hand. I screamed, he screamed and the girls screamed. Dancing with pain, he kept his hand in his other hand and walked whimpering around. I screamed: how can you be so stupid, let me see. His hand was getting thicker and swelled up and he was white as a sheet of the pain. I said: we go to the hospital straight away. But he cried: no madam, I want to go home. In Rotterdam sitting silently with his swollen hand across his chest, it was a very sad situation, the poor boy sufferd terribly but insisted that he did not want to go to the hospital. He directed me straight to the street where he lived. Whatever I tried, all he wanted was to go home and lamented about playing the piano. When he got out, he turned around and said: thank you very much for the lift. I said: my dear boy, go to the doctor soon and then he was gone into the street to his house.
Every year this incident comes sometimes suddenly to my mind,I than hope every thing is allright with him, although it was very serious. This is something you will never forget. I hope he is doing well and hope that he can still play the piano.
Dinkie
It was mid 1968. At that time we lived in Voorschoten in de Papenlaan, in a lovely house. At the age of 35 I passed for my driving license after 3 trials and made it a habit to take my now ex husband once a week to his work at the Waal harbour or another harbour so I could use the car for the rest of the day, mostly to run errands for the kids or sometimes to take them on a shopping spree. At half past five I drove back to Rotterdam to pick up my ex, there were no traffic jams then. Often one or two of the kids came along, also that day my daughter Arlette and her friend Wilma. Before driving to Rotterdam we went to Wassenaar to do one more errand and I saw a hitchhiker wanting to go to Rotterdam. I said: okay, get in, but you have to be patient because before driving to Rotterdam we first have to do a couple of things. That is no problem Madam, said the nice and very shy young man of about 23 years. For an hour he accompanied us everywhere, also to our house in Voorschoten. He sat sweet and perfectly still and let it all come over him, the loud music, the rush and our running to and fro. Finally we were on our way to Rotterdam. He didn’t want anything to eat or drink, although I offered it several times to him. Just as we came on the highway, bang, a flat tire. The young man immediately lamented that he couldn’t help me, as he didn’t know how to assist, he had nothing with cars. Furthermore he said: I play the piano and I am very careful with my hands. I said: dear boy, don’t worry, I can do anything and we all stepped out of the car. Anyway, mother went to work. In those days I was fashionably dressed, very hip, high-heeled boots. Unfortunately that was not the right clothing for the job, but I succeeded. The tire was replaced. The spectators were clearly relieved. Then I tried getting the hup cap back in place hitting it with my hands, which failed, it fell off again and again. Slightly irritated I sat on my rear end, pulled up one leg and leaned backwards so I could give it a smack with my high heel. At the moment I darted out, the silent young man suddenly put his hand on the wheel cover too keep it in place and got my whole heel in his hand. I screamed, he screamed and the girls screamed. Dancing with pain, he kept his hand in his other hand and walked whimpering around. I screamed: how can you be so stupid, let me see. His hand was getting thicker and swelled up and he was white as a sheet of the pain. I said: we go to the hospital straight away. But he cried: no madam, I want to go home. In Rotterdam sitting silently with his swollen hand across his chest, it was a very sad situation, the poor boy sufferd terribly but insisted that he did not want to go to the hospital. He directed me straight to the street where he lived. Whatever I tried, all he wanted was to go home and lamented about playing the piano. When he got out, he turned around and said: thank you very much for the lift. I said: my dear boy, go to the doctor soon and then he was gone into the street to his house.
Every year this incident comes sometimes suddenly to my mind,I than hope every thing is allright with him, although it was very serious. This is something you will never forget. I hope he is doing well and hope that he can still play the piano.
Dinkie
dinsdag 21 juni 2011
Elsie My Grandmother Continued
ELSIE (CONTINUED)
After 4 years in a Japanese concentration camp and 63 years old, she arrived in Holland together with us. Everything she had left behind in the care of others was sold or gone and the storehouse she had put her beautiful furniture in was gone, she had lost it all and she had to start all over again. She rented a large apartment with a lot of floorspace in the Minrebroederstraat 11 bis in Utrecht, close to the Cathedral, from four sisters who all lived together on the ground floor. These four not so good looking unmarried sisters always dressed in black, were very fond of my beautifully dressed and nice looking grandmother and watched over her and were chatting all the time, also cleaning here apartment for here.
A lot of families went to Canada, Australia and New Zealand after the war. Her business was booming. Elsie has been a beacon in my life, a beacon of determination, independence and softness. From her I learned that softness was not synonymous for weak, it could also be very strong. She was reading a lot and was always busy spiritually. When I stayed with her for 14 days each summer vacation, it always was a fascinating experience. Her large living room was already beautifully furnished. Behind the large and wide living room was a corridor on which two other doors came out, one was her bedroom which was also large and high and the other was her junk room. Through the corridor around a corner was a small kitchen, which was terribly cold in the winter. Above her were two more floors where students lived, whom she helped with their English. Every morning at 7 o’clock her alarm went off, then she first did a leg massage in bed, then she did gymnastics while singing a song “Every day and in every way I get better and better”. When her son Dennis stayed with her, he always sang “you get fatter and fatter”. After this ritual I helped her in her corset with boning, which was incredibly tight. Then she put on her make-up and thereafter it was time for an extended breakfast with lots of tea. At 10.30 a.m. the first lesson started, sometimes she also taught in the afternoon and in the evenings. Once a week we went to V&D (a department store) at noon for a hot meal, tables were covered with white tablecloths and large white napkins. There was also a waiter present. After lunch we went to the cinema, where she had a fixed place. The rest of the week we went two more times to the cinema and in the evening ate with the students in the University cafeteria. Every Tuesday it was her “jour” (day), everyone could come then and she always had lots of food and drink at home, all that it takes to receive her visitors. Friends, acquaintances and sometimes family always came around and it was a wonderful day full of surprises. When she taught I often went to see the students upstairs to talk to them or read my books on her lovely large bed. Movies were her hobby, she gathered everything about it. She had a two door wardrobe which she used as a filing cabinet. At the end of every movie she got all the publicity leaflets which she later donated to Simon van Collum, the director of the movie museum, who was extremely happy with it.
Later, when I lived in De Bilt for a year with my first child and expecting the second, I went on my bike to see her almost every day. A solid ride with my big belly and Walter in his child seat behind my back. When I arrived all four sisters ran cooing upstairs to warn my grandmother and all of them were waiting at the top of the stairs. My grandmother saying: “Hello my darling, here you are again, what fun, come in quickly”. After little Walter and I got a cuddle from the sisters for a moment, we went quickly inside. At that time my grandmother didn’t teach anymore and she loved it when we came. After spending a few hours with her I cycled back to De Bilt. She also helped me with everything, a cooker, a vacuum cleaner and specially by coming to me by bus and staying the whole day . When later we lived somewhere else, she got cancer and lost one eye, as a replacement they gave her an artificial eye. When she stayed in Moordrecht with me for two weeks,I saw how she every day patiently and bravely took the eye out cleaned it and put it back again. Unfortunately she wasn’t spared much my lovely grandmother, the cancer came back and she moved to The Hague, where she stayed in the house of two man who were living together and took care of some very old lady's, they were very nice for my grandmother, loved her a lot, after a long and very painful, difficult road, she died in hospital at the age of 82, this lovely woman, my grandmother Elsie.
One day coming out of Xenos I saw a woman walking by, although I only could see her back, I had a shock and shouted: “Elsie, Elsie”. The woman turned and I saw that it was somebody else and suddenly everything became dark around me and luckily Willem caught me otherwise I would have fallen. “I think you better sit down”, Willem said. Only then I realized how very much I missed her that sensible little woman, Elsie.
Dinkie
After 4 years in a Japanese concentration camp and 63 years old, she arrived in Holland together with us. Everything she had left behind in the care of others was sold or gone and the storehouse she had put her beautiful furniture in was gone, she had lost it all and she had to start all over again. She rented a large apartment with a lot of floorspace in the Minrebroederstraat 11 bis in Utrecht, close to the Cathedral, from four sisters who all lived together on the ground floor. These four not so good looking unmarried sisters always dressed in black, were very fond of my beautifully dressed and nice looking grandmother and watched over her and were chatting all the time, also cleaning here apartment for here.
A lot of families went to Canada, Australia and New Zealand after the war. Her business was booming. Elsie has been a beacon in my life, a beacon of determination, independence and softness. From her I learned that softness was not synonymous for weak, it could also be very strong. She was reading a lot and was always busy spiritually. When I stayed with her for 14 days each summer vacation, it always was a fascinating experience. Her large living room was already beautifully furnished. Behind the large and wide living room was a corridor on which two other doors came out, one was her bedroom which was also large and high and the other was her junk room. Through the corridor around a corner was a small kitchen, which was terribly cold in the winter. Above her were two more floors where students lived, whom she helped with their English. Every morning at 7 o’clock her alarm went off, then she first did a leg massage in bed, then she did gymnastics while singing a song “Every day and in every way I get better and better”. When her son Dennis stayed with her, he always sang “you get fatter and fatter”. After this ritual I helped her in her corset with boning, which was incredibly tight. Then she put on her make-up and thereafter it was time for an extended breakfast with lots of tea. At 10.30 a.m. the first lesson started, sometimes she also taught in the afternoon and in the evenings. Once a week we went to V&D (a department store) at noon for a hot meal, tables were covered with white tablecloths and large white napkins. There was also a waiter present. After lunch we went to the cinema, where she had a fixed place. The rest of the week we went two more times to the cinema and in the evening ate with the students in the University cafeteria. Every Tuesday it was her “jour” (day), everyone could come then and she always had lots of food and drink at home, all that it takes to receive her visitors. Friends, acquaintances and sometimes family always came around and it was a wonderful day full of surprises. When she taught I often went to see the students upstairs to talk to them or read my books on her lovely large bed. Movies were her hobby, she gathered everything about it. She had a two door wardrobe which she used as a filing cabinet. At the end of every movie she got all the publicity leaflets which she later donated to Simon van Collum, the director of the movie museum, who was extremely happy with it.
Later, when I lived in De Bilt for a year with my first child and expecting the second, I went on my bike to see her almost every day. A solid ride with my big belly and Walter in his child seat behind my back. When I arrived all four sisters ran cooing upstairs to warn my grandmother and all of them were waiting at the top of the stairs. My grandmother saying: “Hello my darling, here you are again, what fun, come in quickly”. After little Walter and I got a cuddle from the sisters for a moment, we went quickly inside. At that time my grandmother didn’t teach anymore and she loved it when we came. After spending a few hours with her I cycled back to De Bilt. She also helped me with everything, a cooker, a vacuum cleaner and specially by coming to me by bus and staying the whole day . When later we lived somewhere else, she got cancer and lost one eye, as a replacement they gave her an artificial eye. When she stayed in Moordrecht with me for two weeks,I saw how she every day patiently and bravely took the eye out cleaned it and put it back again. Unfortunately she wasn’t spared much my lovely grandmother, the cancer came back and she moved to The Hague, where she stayed in the house of two man who were living together and took care of some very old lady's, they were very nice for my grandmother, loved her a lot, after a long and very painful, difficult road, she died in hospital at the age of 82, this lovely woman, my grandmother Elsie.
One day coming out of Xenos I saw a woman walking by, although I only could see her back, I had a shock and shouted: “Elsie, Elsie”. The woman turned and I saw that it was somebody else and suddenly everything became dark around me and luckily Willem caught me otherwise I would have fallen. “I think you better sit down”, Willem said. Only then I realized how very much I missed her that sensible little woman, Elsie.
Dinkie
Elsie My Dear Grandmother.
ELSIE, MY GRANDMOTHER
Elsie Maud Cownie, my dearest grandmother.
With a small group she got off the boat. In amazement she looked around her, she was in Holland where she cheerfully was going to visit all the special places. She liked everything.
She was a decent, demure girl of just 20 years, whose father was a music teacher at the University of Edinburgh. She came from a wonderful family, who had their own ships, a very kind family with a heartwarming and sweet character.
Cheerful and happy the group visited all museums and concerts and many other things. It was an educational tour for the group from Scotland.
She, Elsie, decided to stay a bit longer with friends, she already knew in Holland, so she could take some painting lessons at the “Haagse School”. We still have a couple of her paintings hanging on our wall. She is even mentioned in the library of the "Haagse School," as a good painter.
Perhaps unfortunately she then met a tough smooth Dutch guy, a bon vivant. Dancing, dining out and concerts, followed and before she knew it, this sweet well bread gentle girl fell in love and later got engaged and married her tough bon vivant. A happy time followed, a life of a well to do family in The Hague. Elsie’s husband, Herbert, had a very big shop in the Lange Houtstraat in The Hague. He sold furniture, curtain fabrics and much more from Bas van Pelt. The only thing Herbert couldn’t handle was the enormous prudishness of his wife. Then Gwen was born (my mother) and two years later Dennis. When Gwen was 7 years, Elsie was diagnosed with a highly contagious form of TB. She had to go to a sanatorium immediately. Little Gwen was sent to a boarding school in Vught with the nuns and Dennis went to his grandparents. And so a happy family was torn apart. Two years later Elsie came home again, fully recovered. Herbert, now a rich man, had not been idle. He lived the life of a real bon vivant with dignity, hunting, sailing, riding and partying. Elsie after all she had been through didn’t fit in this kind of life anymore. Elsie wanted a divorce, wich she got, she did not want any money from Herbert and took a job as companion lady. Before her train left, Herbert said: “Elsie, are you really sure you want to do this?” “Yes, Herbert absolutely” Elsie responded. And so Elsie left, yet they remained close friends until the end of their lives. She went to work as a companion to a rich English lady in The Netherlands. Years later after an other failed second marriage, she started here own job by giving English lessons to the dutch people who emigrated. Later she rented an apartment on the first floor nearby the Lange Houtstraat and started giving English lessons to business people, emigrants and children. That she has done for the rest of her life, it gave her a good income. When she received an inheritance from her father, she went to my mother in Indonesia. Also her son, Dennis went to Indonesia with his wife Beppie Rietveld, the daughter of the famous Rietveld. And they all ended up in Japanese concentration camps.
Will be continued. Dinkie
THE STORY OF ELSIE, A VERY SWEET GRANDMOTHER
Elsie Maud Cownie, my dearest grandmother.
With a small group she got off the boat. In amazement she looked around her, she was in Holland where she cheerfully was going to visit all the special places. She liked everything.
She was a decent, demure girl of just 20 years, whose father was a music teacher at the University of Edinburgh. She came from a wonderful family, who had their own ships, a very kind family with a heartwarming and sweet character.
Cheerful and happy the group visited all museums and concerts and many other things. It was an educational tour for the group from Scotland.
She, Elsie, decided to stay a bit longer with friends, she already knew in Holland, so she could take some painting lessons at the “Haagse School”. We still have a couple of her paintings hanging on our wall. She is even mentioned in the library of the "Haagse School," as a good painter.
Perhaps unfortunately she then met a tough smooth Dutch guy, a bon vivant. Dancing, dining out and concerts, followed and before she knew it, this sweet well bread gentle girl fell in love and later got engaged and married her tough bon vivant. A happy time followed, a life of a well to do family in The Hague. Elsie’s husband, Herbert, had a very big shop in the Lange Houtstraat in The Hague. He sold furniture, curtain fabrics and much more from Bas van Pelt. The only thing Herbert couldn’t handle was the enormous prudishness of his wife. Then Gwen was born (my mother) and two years later Dennis. When Gwen was 7 years, Elsie was diagnosed with a highly contagious form of TB. She had to go to a sanatorium immediately. Little Gwen was sent to a boarding school in Vught with the nuns and Dennis went to his grandparents. And so a happy family was torn apart. Two years later Elsie came home again, fully recovered. Herbert, now a rich man, had not been idle. He lived the life of a real bon vivant with dignity, hunting, sailing, riding and partying. Elsie after all she had been through didn’t fit in this kind of life anymore. Elsie wanted a divorce, wich she got, she did not want any money from Herbert and took a job as companion lady. Before her train left, Herbert said: “Elsie, are you really sure you want to do this?” “Yes, Herbert absolutely” Elsie responded. And so Elsie left, yet they remained close friends until the end of their lives. She went to work as a companion to a rich English lady in The Netherlands. Years later after an other failed second marriage, she started here own job by giving English lessons to the dutch people who emigrated. Later she rented an apartment on the first floor nearby the Lange Houtstraat and started giving English lessons to business people, emigrants and children. That she has done for the rest of her life, it gave her a good income. When she received an inheritance from her father, she went to my mother in Indonesia. Also her son, Dennis went to Indonesia with his wife Beppie Rietveld, the daughter of the famous Rietveld. And they all ended up in Japanese concentration camps.
Will be continued. Dinkie
THE STORY OF ELSIE, A VERY SWEET GRANDMOTHER
AN ACCIDENT IN FEBRUARY 1975
After a serious accident to my right eye I lay flat in the Eye hospital Leyenburg in The Hague. I was not allowed to move, not even to go to the bathroom, everything had to be done lying down, until it was safe and not dangerous anymore. After five days I was finally allowed to sit in bed and the 6th day they took me to the X-ray department in a wheelchair. They wanted to make an x-ray of my eye socket to see whether it was broken. When arriving at the X-ray department there was a man who looked a little bit strange, like someone artificial, but with radiant bright blue eyes and a very friendly smile.
Scared and nervous I was waiting what would happen if it was broken, I didn’t know. “So”, the man with the beautiful blue eyes said “are you a bit nervous”. “Don’t be it is just an x-ray”. “Yes, I know, but what if my eye socket is broken?” “Are worrying about that, that is nothing, they can fix it”. Curiously I asked him, why are you here? Well. my child, I have fallen down from the 20th floor, a screen first protected me a bit, then I fell into the bushes. In a large bucket they took me to the hospital. I had almost broken everything one can break. I’ve been in various hospitals for the past five years and had up to 15 surgeries and you see, I am still here and almost all my limbs are plastic.
Stunned, I said: but you are still good looking." "That is the nicest compliment I’ve had in 5 years, thank you my dear".
The ice was broken then and during our long wait we drank coffee and talked and laughed about all his new limbs. This is an event you will never forget and luckily my eye socket wasn’t broken and after seven days I went home to my kids, cheerfully. Times when I feel down I think of him and it always helps
Dinkie
MIRACLES EXIST – THE SECOND MIRACLE (herhaling september 2007
After a serious accident to my right eye I lay flat in the Eye hospital Leyenburg in The Hague. I was not allowed to move, not even to go to the bathroom, everything had to be done lying down, until it was safe and not dangerous anymore. After five days I was finally allowed to sit in bed and the 6th day they took me to the X-ray department in a wheelchair. They wanted to make an x-ray of my eye socket to see whether it was broken. When arriving at the X-ray department there was a man who looked a little bit strange, like someone artificial, but with radiant bright blue eyes and a very friendly smile.
Scared and nervous I was waiting what would happen if it was broken, I didn’t know. “So”, the man with the beautiful blue eyes said “are you a bit nervous”. “Don’t be it is just an x-ray”. “Yes, I know, but what if my eye socket is broken?” “Are worrying about that, that is nothing, they can fix it”. Curiously I asked him, why are you here? Well. my child, I have fallen down from the 20th floor, a screen first protected me a bit, then I fell into the bushes. In a large bucket they took me to the hospital. I had almost broken everything one can break. I’ve been in various hospitals for the past five years and had up to 15 surgeries and you see, I am still here and almost all my limbs are plastic.
Stunned, I said: but you are still good looking." "That is the nicest compliment I’ve had in 5 years, thank you my dear".
The ice was broken then and during our long wait we drank coffee and talked and laughed about all his new limbs. This is an event you will never forget and luckily my eye socket wasn’t broken and after seven days I went home to my kids, cheerfully. Times when I feel down I think of him and it always helps
Dinkie
MIRACLES EXIST – THE SECOND MIRACLE (herhaling september 2007
THE LIFE OF ONE OF MY GIRLFRIENDS
Standing on the tracks she looked into the distance. A soft breeze touched her face. Here at this lonely spot, it happened. Here her dear father in a desperate mood had thrown himself in front of the train. Five years after their mother’s death, he had chosen to do it. He was a pastor from a small village, who despite his 5 children, no longer could handle life in his unhappy second marriage.
She sighed and looked around sadly, everything looked so peaceful. After a silent farewell and a prayer she walked back to the house of her girlfriend with whom she was staying for a couple of days. It was years ago that she had lived here in the North. Now as a mother with four grown up children, she was proud and happy that she had come so far. She now had the time to leave the dead in peace and to fill in the last part of her own life. She didn’t want to think about her terrible youth anymore with a stepmother who had ruled over them very harsh, being a deeply disappointed and hateful woman.
As a nurse in training she had fled and had built a new life in the West of Holland. No path of roses, but at least her own path. After several years of hard work, she had married the son of the family with whom she had rented a room. The son sailed on ocean-going tankers and sometimes was 1½ years from home. Every time he was home though, all hell broke loose and she was pregnant again. Then he suddenly decided to stop sailing and work as a port pilot in Rotterdam. Her life and that of her children became a genuine permanent threat then. As good and as bad as it was, she managed to put things straight every time it got out of hand, hoping to keep peace in the house. But when she failed in his eyes wich was consistently, hell broke loose. After 20 years it was enough. She got the house with a life insurance and he kept the rest. Very sad days came and went, she had jobs that were heavy and uncomfortable. Eventually she was declared unfit due to serious physical problems and so she got a little rest. When years later she received a considerable amount of money, paid by her insurance, she could begin her recovery and start to live according to her own views.
She travelled throughout Europe on her own. Everywhere she went she visited museums, also in Holland. She went to Lapland, New Zealand, Vietnam and all Eastern European countries. She lived very frugal, had no car and spent little money on luxury, but she travelled around the globe, broke her leg in England, all on her own.
She now could, looking back on that poor start, enjoy all the happiness she has now, well-developed children, lovely grandchildren and a life filled with many interests. I’ve known her for 52 years, we were living next to each other for some years and were both married with an husband at sea, so very long time alone with little children, we helped each other as much as we could and also had a very nice time those years together, having baby's and taking care of them together, when each of us moved to another place we still kept in touch over all the years and we still do, sometimes much, sometimes less, but we never forget each other. When one of us was in very bad shape we would phone and help each other until now, so our friendship has never ended. Dinkie.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Standing on the tracks she looked into the distance. A soft breeze touched her face. Here at this lonely spot, it happened. Here her dear father in a desperate mood had thrown himself in front of the train. Five years after their mother’s death, he had chosen to do it. He was a pastor from a small village, who despite his 5 children, no longer could handle life in his unhappy second marriage.
She sighed and looked around sadly, everything looked so peaceful. After a silent farewell and a prayer she walked back to the house of her girlfriend with whom she was staying for a couple of days. It was years ago that she had lived here in the North. Now as a mother with four grown up children, she was proud and happy that she had come so far. She now had the time to leave the dead in peace and to fill in the last part of her own life. She didn’t want to think about her terrible youth anymore with a stepmother who had ruled over them very harsh, being a deeply disappointed and hateful woman.
As a nurse in training she had fled and had built a new life in the West of Holland. No path of roses, but at least her own path. After several years of hard work, she had married the son of the family with whom she had rented a room. The son sailed on ocean-going tankers and sometimes was 1½ years from home. Every time he was home though, all hell broke loose and she was pregnant again. Then he suddenly decided to stop sailing and work as a port pilot in Rotterdam. Her life and that of her children became a genuine permanent threat then. As good and as bad as it was, she managed to put things straight every time it got out of hand, hoping to keep peace in the house. But when she failed in his eyes wich was consistently, hell broke loose. After 20 years it was enough. She got the house with a life insurance and he kept the rest. Very sad days came and went, she had jobs that were heavy and uncomfortable. Eventually she was declared unfit due to serious physical problems and so she got a little rest. When years later she received a considerable amount of money, paid by her insurance, she could begin her recovery and start to live according to her own views.
She travelled throughout Europe on her own. Everywhere she went she visited museums, also in Holland. She went to Lapland, New Zealand, Vietnam and all Eastern European countries. She lived very frugal, had no car and spent little money on luxury, but she travelled around the globe, broke her leg in England, all on her own.
She now could, looking back on that poor start, enjoy all the happiness she has now, well-developed children, lovely grandchildren and a life filled with many interests. I’ve known her for 52 years, we were living next to each other for some years and were both married with an husband at sea, so very long time alone with little children, we helped each other as much as we could and also had a very nice time those years together, having baby's and taking care of them together, when each of us moved to another place we still kept in touch over all the years and we still do, sometimes much, sometimes less, but we never forget each other. When one of us was in very bad shape we would phone and help each other until now, so our friendship has never ended. Dinkie.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
MY LAST NEW KNEE, APRIL 23 IN ASSEN
On April 23 of this year I got my last new knee. How wonderful that one has but two knees. As a 75 year old it wasn’t easy, but with two new knees and a one hip replacement, I think I’ve had about everything. But yes, you think there is one more hip, but that one is all right and will hopefully stay that way.
So I haven’t written a lot of stories recently and that even after an extended article in the PZC about me with picture, my husband and dog. But I can now happily get to work once again to write stories about my life including both amazing and unpleasant memories, these last ones luckily didn’t ever haunt me.
Dinkie
CILACAP 1982 – AN ACCIDENT
In Indonesia people absolutely don’t adhere to the rules, let alone keep fixed arrangements, with a few exceptions maybe. So it is dangerous to trust someone who has your life in his hands. When you do, the following can happen to you. We unfortunately had to experience it. Imagine, suddenly there was a power failure in the part of Cilacap where we lived on the Gotot Soebroto 75. All was off during the morning, the air conditioning, the refrigerator and the freezer. Full of confidence a bus of the electricity company went to the power station and turned off the switches of the appropriate section. Then the bus drove to the electricity poles, along the main road under which we daily drove to or from the village, the school and the swimming pool. One of the men, using a ladder first, climbed in one of the electricity poles and went higher and higher. We saw him climbing up and thought that you definitely should have no fear of heights to do this job. The man in question had reached the right power cord, high in the air, crawled on the cord, hooked himself and sat down to work. What he did exactly, we didn’t know, but he sat quietly on the cord, just like an ape.
This was Indonesia though, as I mentioned before. A huge bang, yelling and screaming as if he was roasted on a spit, he suddenly hang under the cord, but didn’t fell off. To our bewilderment he was dead, stone-dead. Someone at the power station had passed the electricity cabinet, knew about the power failure and decided to turn on the switches to start the power again, not knowing that someone on the road was repairing a power cord. The cabinet stood open and the switch was turned down, that was what he noted.
Afterwards of course no one had done it and no one dared to do something, everyone was frozen with fright and so the poor dead man was hanging there for three long days. All the people from Cilacap who had to go to the village, school or swimming pool had to drive on the road with him hanging above it. None of the children and parents will ever forget that image. To our relief they finally took him down one night and he was buried with a lot of music.
Dinkie
On April 23 of this year I got my last new knee. How wonderful that one has but two knees. As a 75 year old it wasn’t easy, but with two new knees and a one hip replacement, I think I’ve had about everything. But yes, you think there is one more hip, but that one is all right and will hopefully stay that way.
So I haven’t written a lot of stories recently and that even after an extended article in the PZC about me with picture, my husband and dog. But I can now happily get to work once again to write stories about my life including both amazing and unpleasant memories, these last ones luckily didn’t ever haunt me.
Dinkie
CILACAP 1982 – AN ACCIDENT
In Indonesia people absolutely don’t adhere to the rules, let alone keep fixed arrangements, with a few exceptions maybe. So it is dangerous to trust someone who has your life in his hands. When you do, the following can happen to you. We unfortunately had to experience it. Imagine, suddenly there was a power failure in the part of Cilacap where we lived on the Gotot Soebroto 75. All was off during the morning, the air conditioning, the refrigerator and the freezer. Full of confidence a bus of the electricity company went to the power station and turned off the switches of the appropriate section. Then the bus drove to the electricity poles, along the main road under which we daily drove to or from the village, the school and the swimming pool. One of the men, using a ladder first, climbed in one of the electricity poles and went higher and higher. We saw him climbing up and thought that you definitely should have no fear of heights to do this job. The man in question had reached the right power cord, high in the air, crawled on the cord, hooked himself and sat down to work. What he did exactly, we didn’t know, but he sat quietly on the cord, just like an ape.
This was Indonesia though, as I mentioned before. A huge bang, yelling and screaming as if he was roasted on a spit, he suddenly hang under the cord, but didn’t fell off. To our bewilderment he was dead, stone-dead. Someone at the power station had passed the electricity cabinet, knew about the power failure and decided to turn on the switches to start the power again, not knowing that someone on the road was repairing a power cord. The cabinet stood open and the switch was turned down, that was what he noted.
Afterwards of course no one had done it and no one dared to do something, everyone was frozen with fright and so the poor dead man was hanging there for three long days. All the people from Cilacap who had to go to the village, school or swimming pool had to drive on the road with him hanging above it. None of the children and parents will ever forget that image. To our relief they finally took him down one night and he was buried with a lot of music.
Dinkie
zondag 8 mei 2011
THE ATTACK ON WOMEN AND CHILDREN
THE ATTACK ON WOMEN, CHILDREN AND SOME OF THE MEN WHO HAD ALREADY COME BACK
The following story took place in 1946 in the than so called Dutch Indies, in a Jappenese prison camp.
Vibrant and jubilant, liberation had taken her entrance. It came suddenly, almost as a surprise, in one single day. It was great, seductive, intoxicating, unbelievable. Sitting up there in the tree, looking over the camp wall to freedom with a bright happy feeling: “we made it”. Other children in the tree laughed and shouted to each other and pointed at the mountains. But then, a terrible noise coming from everywhere, a whistling sound, something that flew past your ear, danger! Like apples we fell out of the tree.
Mothers came running to us, yelling “come along, they are attacking us”. Bullets, running, fleeing into our small rooms, quickly on the ground, what is happening, than loud yelling on the other site of the wall:" merdeka". My mother shouted to us, run, the Indonesians are coming, than we saw them coming over the wall like pirates with war colors on their faces and guns, other wapons, frighting looking fellows. We ran as fast as we could. More Indonesians came over the wall, everyone ran in panic into the narrow pathway to the other side of the camp, to the very large open field. There also were Indonesians yelling: “merdeka, merdeka”. We all ran on the field as far to the end as possible, there were already a lot of people. The Indonesians stood in a broad circle around this big field, they stood everywhere with rifles at gunpoint, waiting for the order to shoot.’
In some of the barracks, all women had barricaded the doors and windows with their beds, tables and all their luggage, they did not want to come out to be killed without a fight. And whatever the attackers tried, they didn’t manage to get them out, which ultimately was our salvation. It lasted and lasted, everything was silent, fearfull we stood there on the field listening if they would get them out of the barracks. Suddenly they began shooting at random and throwing grenades. “get down”, people screamed, “get down”, we also screamed. The men that had already come back to their wives and children in our camp, threw the grenades back as fast as possible. Everyone was dead silent and we all began to pray. Laying flat on the grass, I suddenly felt a terrible blow close by, it was so bad that I thought my chest would burst apart and I had blood all over me and pieces of all sort of things. Oh God, I am dead, everything is broken, this it it. How strange, I can still hear, I can still see, if this is death, that cannot be so bad. How strange I can still move my fingers. Oh God, I am only wounded, but I don’t feel any pain.
Carefully, I looked at the things that were lying upon me: “where, where am I wounded?” Then I heard my mother’s voice: “get up, quickly, we have to get out of here, we have to go further to the back, quick, quick”. Can I do that, Oh God, it is not mine, it’s someone else’s, I could not fully believe it, but coming up and running I found out their was nothing wrong with me. Away, far away we ran as fast as we could to the back, where no Indonesians were. In the running crowd we lost my brother and went for the toilets were we crept on top of each other. My mother then heard my brother crying. She called: “Anton, we are here”. He came to our toilet. Weeping he said: “Mummy, how should I pray?” You never forget something like that. Cramped together we all were praying aloud, waiting to be killed. After some time we heard even worse wild shouts from the rooftops. Everybody in our toilet looked up with terrible fear in their eyes, wich I never will forget, this is the end, they said. Kiss your children goodbye, we will die. More terrible shouts and infernal noise, then shooting, bullets were flying around, pops, running, screaming was all we heard. Absolutely terrified we waited.
Someone yelled: “they are ours, it’s the Gurka’s, it really is.” It became dead quiet. Was it possible, would we be rescued? Very carefully some went looking and saw dark men passing by, grinning and laughing at us: “the Gurka’s, the best warriors there are”, someone said. “They come to liberate us”. Everyone started to cry and thank God.
And yes, one hour later the had captured some Indonesians and others fled. We came creeping out of our toilets looking around for relatives, we found my grandmother, who was overcome by panic, had ran so fast that see fell down and had kept silent as if she was dead. How you feel then is indescribable. You get your life back, you live, it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world, I have never ever forgotten this feeling.
I didn’t want to tell this story at first, but my eldest daughter made me do it and I am glad I did.
Dinkie
The following story took place in 1946 in the than so called Dutch Indies, in a Jappenese prison camp.
Vibrant and jubilant, liberation had taken her entrance. It came suddenly, almost as a surprise, in one single day. It was great, seductive, intoxicating, unbelievable. Sitting up there in the tree, looking over the camp wall to freedom with a bright happy feeling: “we made it”. Other children in the tree laughed and shouted to each other and pointed at the mountains. But then, a terrible noise coming from everywhere, a whistling sound, something that flew past your ear, danger! Like apples we fell out of the tree.
Mothers came running to us, yelling “come along, they are attacking us”. Bullets, running, fleeing into our small rooms, quickly on the ground, what is happening, than loud yelling on the other site of the wall:" merdeka". My mother shouted to us, run, the Indonesians are coming, than we saw them coming over the wall like pirates with war colors on their faces and guns, other wapons, frighting looking fellows. We ran as fast as we could. More Indonesians came over the wall, everyone ran in panic into the narrow pathway to the other side of the camp, to the very large open field. There also were Indonesians yelling: “merdeka, merdeka”. We all ran on the field as far to the end as possible, there were already a lot of people. The Indonesians stood in a broad circle around this big field, they stood everywhere with rifles at gunpoint, waiting for the order to shoot.’
In some of the barracks, all women had barricaded the doors and windows with their beds, tables and all their luggage, they did not want to come out to be killed without a fight. And whatever the attackers tried, they didn’t manage to get them out, which ultimately was our salvation. It lasted and lasted, everything was silent, fearfull we stood there on the field listening if they would get them out of the barracks. Suddenly they began shooting at random and throwing grenades. “get down”, people screamed, “get down”, we also screamed. The men that had already come back to their wives and children in our camp, threw the grenades back as fast as possible. Everyone was dead silent and we all began to pray. Laying flat on the grass, I suddenly felt a terrible blow close by, it was so bad that I thought my chest would burst apart and I had blood all over me and pieces of all sort of things. Oh God, I am dead, everything is broken, this it it. How strange, I can still hear, I can still see, if this is death, that cannot be so bad. How strange I can still move my fingers. Oh God, I am only wounded, but I don’t feel any pain.
Carefully, I looked at the things that were lying upon me: “where, where am I wounded?” Then I heard my mother’s voice: “get up, quickly, we have to get out of here, we have to go further to the back, quick, quick”. Can I do that, Oh God, it is not mine, it’s someone else’s, I could not fully believe it, but coming up and running I found out their was nothing wrong with me. Away, far away we ran as fast as we could to the back, where no Indonesians were. In the running crowd we lost my brother and went for the toilets were we crept on top of each other. My mother then heard my brother crying. She called: “Anton, we are here”. He came to our toilet. Weeping he said: “Mummy, how should I pray?” You never forget something like that. Cramped together we all were praying aloud, waiting to be killed. After some time we heard even worse wild shouts from the rooftops. Everybody in our toilet looked up with terrible fear in their eyes, wich I never will forget, this is the end, they said. Kiss your children goodbye, we will die. More terrible shouts and infernal noise, then shooting, bullets were flying around, pops, running, screaming was all we heard. Absolutely terrified we waited.
Someone yelled: “they are ours, it’s the Gurka’s, it really is.” It became dead quiet. Was it possible, would we be rescued? Very carefully some went looking and saw dark men passing by, grinning and laughing at us: “the Gurka’s, the best warriors there are”, someone said. “They come to liberate us”. Everyone started to cry and thank God.
And yes, one hour later the had captured some Indonesians and others fled. We came creeping out of our toilets looking around for relatives, we found my grandmother, who was overcome by panic, had ran so fast that see fell down and had kept silent as if she was dead. How you feel then is indescribable. You get your life back, you live, it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world, I have never ever forgotten this feeling.
I didn’t want to tell this story at first, but my eldest daughter made me do it and I am glad I did.
Dinkie
woensdag 27 april 2011
ABOUT MY PARENTS
ABOUT MY PARENTS
Now come the best and worst stories of a 74 year life. Starting with a sad but also beautiful story. For me losing of both my parents within 4 months was a huge shock. We had survived all, the Japanese concentration camps in Indonesia and the difficult and fine years in Holland. On May 22nd my mother passed away, my father just stood there, very upset as if he had ended up in a nightmare. Disoriented he walked in his apartment. He was on the phone all day, asking: “what shall I do now, how do I do that, what would your mother want me to do, etc.”
He often stayed with us and I loved that. We talked about my mother for hours and he tried to be brave. Less than two months later he got a cerebral hemorrhage at home. He couldn’t talk anymore and was completely paralyzed at one side. From Leiden I could have him transferred to the hospital in Goes and from there to a nursing home in Zierikzee. I could visit him as much as I wanted all day, those were my best days with him and I was hoping for further recovery.
One morning, less than 2 months later, I got a call that he had had a heart attack and at 9 o’clock he was laying in the hospital in Zierikzee with various infusions. There my father was, he couldn’t talk anymore, he only could move his eyebrows up and down. Once was yes, twice was no, that way we could talk together. Sometimes tears ran down his cheeks. The whole day I hugged and talked to this very very dear man, holding his hand all the time. At 17.00 hours Willem came and at 7 o’clock p.m. a nurse came to tell that things weren’t going well. Doctors came and said: the end is near we can not save him. My sweet dear father, for the last time, he looked at us very sweetly, a little crooked smile and he was gone. God, how I cried.
Our life together had ended, my great support, my great friend, who had brought the family back together, was gone.
How he had lugged, first on his moped (Solex), later with a Ford Anglia and later even better. He managed to give us a fantastic life in Holland, not rich but good, solid and secure. He was never angry, there was only one thing that he did, he talked for hours. It drove my mother crazy: punish them, send them to their rooms. But no, he just said: child, listen to me, why are you doing this? Then followed hours full of wonderful discussions with someone who was never angry, it was great.
After his cremation we walked through their apartment, then you realize how awfull dying is. His cup of coffee was still there, his watch on the nightstand, his clothes on the chair. Also all his stuff in the bathroom, any minute you were expecting him home. This all has to go, my fathers live was over, for good.
Then came the most dreaded moment that we had to empty the apartment. All of their lives passed through our hands. Afterwards, it took me a year before I was functioning normal again. The apartment was sold and we inherited also a considerable sum of money.
My dear husband said: before we start renovating the house, you first have to do something for yourself, something you would like the most. For me that was regression hypnosis, back to past lives, but how and where do you do that in Zeeland in 1987.
On the floor at our door was a newspaper and while wiping my feet, my eye caught an article in the paper, it read that a young homeopathic medical hypnotherapist had opened a practice in Zonnemaire, what a coincidence! I called immediately and could already make an appointment for the next day. This lovely young woman is now, for already 30 years, a friend of mine. It took three sessions of 2 hours before it really happened, but then there was no stopping. There were numerous short visits to past lives in different times and an encounter with my deceased parents. This was so extraordinary, so real, so fantastic. I did not want to have missed this for the world and I learned a lot about myself and my life. (will be continued).
Dinkie
Now come the best and worst stories of a 74 year life. Starting with a sad but also beautiful story. For me losing of both my parents within 4 months was a huge shock. We had survived all, the Japanese concentration camps in Indonesia and the difficult and fine years in Holland. On May 22nd my mother passed away, my father just stood there, very upset as if he had ended up in a nightmare. Disoriented he walked in his apartment. He was on the phone all day, asking: “what shall I do now, how do I do that, what would your mother want me to do, etc.”
He often stayed with us and I loved that. We talked about my mother for hours and he tried to be brave. Less than two months later he got a cerebral hemorrhage at home. He couldn’t talk anymore and was completely paralyzed at one side. From Leiden I could have him transferred to the hospital in Goes and from there to a nursing home in Zierikzee. I could visit him as much as I wanted all day, those were my best days with him and I was hoping for further recovery.
One morning, less than 2 months later, I got a call that he had had a heart attack and at 9 o’clock he was laying in the hospital in Zierikzee with various infusions. There my father was, he couldn’t talk anymore, he only could move his eyebrows up and down. Once was yes, twice was no, that way we could talk together. Sometimes tears ran down his cheeks. The whole day I hugged and talked to this very very dear man, holding his hand all the time. At 17.00 hours Willem came and at 7 o’clock p.m. a nurse came to tell that things weren’t going well. Doctors came and said: the end is near we can not save him. My sweet dear father, for the last time, he looked at us very sweetly, a little crooked smile and he was gone. God, how I cried.
Our life together had ended, my great support, my great friend, who had brought the family back together, was gone.
How he had lugged, first on his moped (Solex), later with a Ford Anglia and later even better. He managed to give us a fantastic life in Holland, not rich but good, solid and secure. He was never angry, there was only one thing that he did, he talked for hours. It drove my mother crazy: punish them, send them to their rooms. But no, he just said: child, listen to me, why are you doing this? Then followed hours full of wonderful discussions with someone who was never angry, it was great.
After his cremation we walked through their apartment, then you realize how awfull dying is. His cup of coffee was still there, his watch on the nightstand, his clothes on the chair. Also all his stuff in the bathroom, any minute you were expecting him home. This all has to go, my fathers live was over, for good.
Then came the most dreaded moment that we had to empty the apartment. All of their lives passed through our hands. Afterwards, it took me a year before I was functioning normal again. The apartment was sold and we inherited also a considerable sum of money.
My dear husband said: before we start renovating the house, you first have to do something for yourself, something you would like the most. For me that was regression hypnosis, back to past lives, but how and where do you do that in Zeeland in 1987.
On the floor at our door was a newspaper and while wiping my feet, my eye caught an article in the paper, it read that a young homeopathic medical hypnotherapist had opened a practice in Zonnemaire, what a coincidence! I called immediately and could already make an appointment for the next day. This lovely young woman is now, for already 30 years, a friend of mine. It took three sessions of 2 hours before it really happened, but then there was no stopping. There were numerous short visits to past lives in different times and an encounter with my deceased parents. This was so extraordinary, so real, so fantastic. I did not want to have missed this for the world and I learned a lot about myself and my life. (will be continued).
Dinkie
More Music
If you are 72 years old and really do have everything, you still have a small part of your life ahead, you hope, you can fill it in to your own choice as long as your health permits.
Enjoying yourself you can do everywhere and in Holland there is a lot to enjoy. By chance we came (does chance actually exists?) to an Indian movie called Bombay. It is a fantastic story, but what fascinated us the most was the music and the dancing, what a perfection. Unbelievable, it got us in its grip.
Later, with much difficulty, the second Indian movie “Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham” came. In that movie the dancing, the interiors and the clothing was overwhelming and so graciously beautiful and elegant. In one word: eye catching.
Of those dramatically beautiful movies, we have now also the music on CD. In the morning at breakfast in our real flax farm in Zeeland, the Indian music rumbles through the house and we love it. Who would have expected that.
Dinkie
Enjoying yourself you can do everywhere and in Holland there is a lot to enjoy. By chance we came (does chance actually exists?) to an Indian movie called Bombay. It is a fantastic story, but what fascinated us the most was the music and the dancing, what a perfection. Unbelievable, it got us in its grip.
Later, with much difficulty, the second Indian movie “Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham” came. In that movie the dancing, the interiors and the clothing was overwhelming and so graciously beautiful and elegant. In one word: eye catching.
Of those dramatically beautiful movies, we have now also the music on CD. In the morning at breakfast in our real flax farm in Zeeland, the Indian music rumbles through the house and we love it. Who would have expected that.
Dinkie
dinsdag 26 april 2011
A HAPPY TIME IN NIGERIA
A HAPPY TIME IN NIGERIA IN 1970
Exhausted and tired with four children, after four moves and without help and with a husband, who came home at 08.00 p.m. and who was abroad a lot and never had time, so I arrived at our first station in Lagos, Nigeria.
Nigeria in 1970 was, just after the departure of the English and just after the Biafran war, still very colonial.
We got a pretty house in a park-like garden in Ikoy. One side of the house only had glass doors, all of which opened to the porch side. The house had a large kitchen, spacious bedrooms, a beautiful garden with many coconut trees and of course, not to forget, a lot of staff. Two servants (men), who lived behind the house on their own compound with their own families. A gardener with an assistant, a night watchman and a driver. So we arrived from hell in heaven, everything was done for us, the washing, ironing, really everything. I didn’t have to do a thing anymore, what a gigantic luxury. To make things even more easy, there also was the Ikoy club, still entirely based on the English trends with a library, a golf course, tennis, judo, squash and a wonderful swimmingpool and where you could also eat and drink something. After school all young people came here and kept themselves busy for hours.
The project was a government project performed by Nedeco and the Dutch Embassy, so it was a very prestigious project.
We had been given a lot of money for clothing, such as evening- and cocktail dresses, sport wear and more. This was obligatory and it certainly wasn’t a problem for a worn out housewife and the four children. This was a whole new world for us with many obligations and etiquette on one side and luxury and freedom on the other side. Next to the obligatory parties via the Embassy, there were also two great nightclubs in Lagos at the time, the Bachus and the Bagatelle, where many Libanese worked, extremely charming people.
Mostly I enjoyed having free time, no more housekeeping. To be able to do whatever you want, going out, swimming and when coming home finding diner ready on the table and the laundry all done, that was great.
The kids were perfectly cared for, there was always someone at home. The driver drove them everywhere and picked them up again, really unbelievable.
The finest moments of my stay there, were the days that I left in a banana boat from the Federal Palace Hotel (with swimming pool and more luxury) to go to Badagry beach via the major routes of all vessels, that went to Lagos. Those trips with that small boat with outboard motor, which preferably refused to start when we navigated in between the large vessels, were very scary as well. That small narrow wooden boat, floating closer and closer to a huge fraigtliner and the Nigerian on the helm was in great panic, pulling and pulling the engine to get it started again and we eagerly hoping not to be run over by one of those gigantic looking ships. Many a time I thought, that is it, now my life ends here, but then the bitchy engine started and we could just in time sail away from the great danger, sighing with relief. All this tension though, couldn’t disturb my desire for those marvelous hours on a lovely beach, sitting under a palm roof and listening to the blows of the huge waves on the beach, drinking the delicious coconut milk from the many coconuts.
I’ve spent hours there on my own. Sometimes in the company of an Expat or one of the Nigerian women, who sold me the coconuts. I enjoyed those wonderful days of sun, wind, waves and deep peace. Sometimes my youngest son came with me and would also play for hours on the beach.
I will never forget Badagry beach, so peaceful, so beautiful, so pristine with many palm trees.
Dinkie
Exhausted and tired with four children, after four moves and without help and with a husband, who came home at 08.00 p.m. and who was abroad a lot and never had time, so I arrived at our first station in Lagos, Nigeria.
Nigeria in 1970 was, just after the departure of the English and just after the Biafran war, still very colonial.
We got a pretty house in a park-like garden in Ikoy. One side of the house only had glass doors, all of which opened to the porch side. The house had a large kitchen, spacious bedrooms, a beautiful garden with many coconut trees and of course, not to forget, a lot of staff. Two servants (men), who lived behind the house on their own compound with their own families. A gardener with an assistant, a night watchman and a driver. So we arrived from hell in heaven, everything was done for us, the washing, ironing, really everything. I didn’t have to do a thing anymore, what a gigantic luxury. To make things even more easy, there also was the Ikoy club, still entirely based on the English trends with a library, a golf course, tennis, judo, squash and a wonderful swimmingpool and where you could also eat and drink something. After school all young people came here and kept themselves busy for hours.
The project was a government project performed by Nedeco and the Dutch Embassy, so it was a very prestigious project.
We had been given a lot of money for clothing, such as evening- and cocktail dresses, sport wear and more. This was obligatory and it certainly wasn’t a problem for a worn out housewife and the four children. This was a whole new world for us with many obligations and etiquette on one side and luxury and freedom on the other side. Next to the obligatory parties via the Embassy, there were also two great nightclubs in Lagos at the time, the Bachus and the Bagatelle, where many Libanese worked, extremely charming people.
Mostly I enjoyed having free time, no more housekeeping. To be able to do whatever you want, going out, swimming and when coming home finding diner ready on the table and the laundry all done, that was great.
The kids were perfectly cared for, there was always someone at home. The driver drove them everywhere and picked them up again, really unbelievable.
The finest moments of my stay there, were the days that I left in a banana boat from the Federal Palace Hotel (with swimming pool and more luxury) to go to Badagry beach via the major routes of all vessels, that went to Lagos. Those trips with that small boat with outboard motor, which preferably refused to start when we navigated in between the large vessels, were very scary as well. That small narrow wooden boat, floating closer and closer to a huge fraigtliner and the Nigerian on the helm was in great panic, pulling and pulling the engine to get it started again and we eagerly hoping not to be run over by one of those gigantic looking ships. Many a time I thought, that is it, now my life ends here, but then the bitchy engine started and we could just in time sail away from the great danger, sighing with relief. All this tension though, couldn’t disturb my desire for those marvelous hours on a lovely beach, sitting under a palm roof and listening to the blows of the huge waves on the beach, drinking the delicious coconut milk from the many coconuts.
I’ve spent hours there on my own. Sometimes in the company of an Expat or one of the Nigerian women, who sold me the coconuts. I enjoyed those wonderful days of sun, wind, waves and deep peace. Sometimes my youngest son came with me and would also play for hours on the beach.
I will never forget Badagry beach, so peaceful, so beautiful, so pristine with many palm trees.
Dinkie
FOLLOW UP ON MY PARENTS
FOLLOW UP ON MY PARENTS
Dark and gloomy was also the morning, realizing that her future would be without parents. The deep blue autumn sky, she saw through the window, seemed to mock her. Slowly she got dressed and went to the hypnotherapist in the next village for her first session. Feeling sad she drove to her appointment taking a small plant with her. Marianne, a small thin woman opened the door. After a pleasant chat with a cup of tea, she was summoned to lie down on the long chair with a pillow and blanket over her.
In the quiet dim room, Marianne spoke to her so softly, that she felt completely relaxed. Everything was quiet until she almost fell asleep: “now try to go to your own place, see a forest or a beach. Do you see something yet?” “No”. “Go inside your head and find your own place”. Everything remained dark, I sank deeper and deeper inwards. The soft voice continued in cadence. Suddenly, a bright flash of light, bright sun, clear blue sky. A girl walking in a lane with trees. I knew that girl, it was me!’
Surprised and shocked by the brightness of the light and the recognition, the image suddenly was gone.
And so three other sessions followed with flashes of a familiar past, very fascinating. The fourth session I was looking forward to turn into my head, it was as if a door suddenly opened and there was my own place, a very neglected terraced garden, a crystal clear image.
This wild garden went from high to low. I was sitting on two weathered tombstones on which the letters weren’t readable anymore due to age and the moss. Further there was grass. One terrace lower again grass and some wild flowers and plants. Then again another lower terrace with only tall grasses and wildflowers and next to it a grove of tall pines and meadows and above it a clear blue sky.
Near the grove of pines was a large pasture fenced with a high white fence, with in it a black horse. So this was my own place, how very odd,special and why a black horse?
Still I felt completely at home there. Marianne, wrote everything down and told me that you could meet whomever you want in your own place. Can I see my parents back, I asked. It should be possible, she said, if they also want to see you again. We will try it next time. I couldn’t wait, I longed for that moment, I so much wanted to see them. Finally, the moment was there.
I saw the garden, my own place, very quickly and again enjoyed the view and the beautiful wild black horse. In mind, I asked my parents to come and there, to my amazement, my father came, so clear, so real, with such a sweet smile, that I began to cry terribly. Then my mother came as well as a very young person. Weeping I said: Mum, how white your teeth are and you are so beautiful. Yeah, she said and I kept crying. If you keep on crying you ruin everything, she said, typically my mother. My father said: hello child, don’t be so sad my dear, enjoy the fact that we are with you now and here.
Is this your garden now, my mother asked. It looks more like a wilderness and what are those two tombstones doing there? I don’t understand that this is your favorite place, very strange. And what do you do with a black horse?
Look Gwen, a flower, my father said. Henk, that isn’t a flower, that is weed. This conversation flowed on like this, so typical of my parents, that I was laughing and crying at the same time.
My father turned back to me and said: child, you have to enjoy life, live, do not suffer, don’t worry so much, just enjoy. We will meet again soon, have some wonderful years.
Stop whining, my mother said. I then had to laugh about this comment, which was so typical for her, and slowly they faded away. I called: please stay, stay!
Marianne said: Dinkie, let them go, you have seen them now, let them go, girl and come back slowly. Are you all right again? she asked sweetly.
After a delicious cup of tea and a long talk about everything, I went home feeling very happy and I promised myself to follow my father’s advice to start living.
After another 5 amazing sessions with Marianne to various past lives, such as England, America, and Morocco with many people and good and bad situations, I also met my helper in the garden. A more optimistic and happier man you cannot imagine, I can still learn a lot from him. All this was one of the finest things I have witnessed in my life and I still think back about it with great joy. Thanks for all your patience, dear Marianne.
Dinkie
Dark and gloomy was also the morning, realizing that her future would be without parents. The deep blue autumn sky, she saw through the window, seemed to mock her. Slowly she got dressed and went to the hypnotherapist in the next village for her first session. Feeling sad she drove to her appointment taking a small plant with her. Marianne, a small thin woman opened the door. After a pleasant chat with a cup of tea, she was summoned to lie down on the long chair with a pillow and blanket over her.
In the quiet dim room, Marianne spoke to her so softly, that she felt completely relaxed. Everything was quiet until she almost fell asleep: “now try to go to your own place, see a forest or a beach. Do you see something yet?” “No”. “Go inside your head and find your own place”. Everything remained dark, I sank deeper and deeper inwards. The soft voice continued in cadence. Suddenly, a bright flash of light, bright sun, clear blue sky. A girl walking in a lane with trees. I knew that girl, it was me!’
Surprised and shocked by the brightness of the light and the recognition, the image suddenly was gone.
And so three other sessions followed with flashes of a familiar past, very fascinating. The fourth session I was looking forward to turn into my head, it was as if a door suddenly opened and there was my own place, a very neglected terraced garden, a crystal clear image.
This wild garden went from high to low. I was sitting on two weathered tombstones on which the letters weren’t readable anymore due to age and the moss. Further there was grass. One terrace lower again grass and some wild flowers and plants. Then again another lower terrace with only tall grasses and wildflowers and next to it a grove of tall pines and meadows and above it a clear blue sky.
Near the grove of pines was a large pasture fenced with a high white fence, with in it a black horse. So this was my own place, how very odd,special and why a black horse?
Still I felt completely at home there. Marianne, wrote everything down and told me that you could meet whomever you want in your own place. Can I see my parents back, I asked. It should be possible, she said, if they also want to see you again. We will try it next time. I couldn’t wait, I longed for that moment, I so much wanted to see them. Finally, the moment was there.
I saw the garden, my own place, very quickly and again enjoyed the view and the beautiful wild black horse. In mind, I asked my parents to come and there, to my amazement, my father came, so clear, so real, with such a sweet smile, that I began to cry terribly. Then my mother came as well as a very young person. Weeping I said: Mum, how white your teeth are and you are so beautiful. Yeah, she said and I kept crying. If you keep on crying you ruin everything, she said, typically my mother. My father said: hello child, don’t be so sad my dear, enjoy the fact that we are with you now and here.
Is this your garden now, my mother asked. It looks more like a wilderness and what are those two tombstones doing there? I don’t understand that this is your favorite place, very strange. And what do you do with a black horse?
Look Gwen, a flower, my father said. Henk, that isn’t a flower, that is weed. This conversation flowed on like this, so typical of my parents, that I was laughing and crying at the same time.
My father turned back to me and said: child, you have to enjoy life, live, do not suffer, don’t worry so much, just enjoy. We will meet again soon, have some wonderful years.
Stop whining, my mother said. I then had to laugh about this comment, which was so typical for her, and slowly they faded away. I called: please stay, stay!
Marianne said: Dinkie, let them go, you have seen them now, let them go, girl and come back slowly. Are you all right again? she asked sweetly.
After a delicious cup of tea and a long talk about everything, I went home feeling very happy and I promised myself to follow my father’s advice to start living.
After another 5 amazing sessions with Marianne to various past lives, such as England, America, and Morocco with many people and good and bad situations, I also met my helper in the garden. A more optimistic and happier man you cannot imagine, I can still learn a lot from him. All this was one of the finest things I have witnessed in my life and I still think back about it with great joy. Thanks for all your patience, dear Marianne.
Dinkie
DR ENGELS, CONCENTRATION CAMP SOLO
DR. ENGELS, CONCENTRATION CAMP SOLO
Slowly the dark night changed into another very hot day in camp Solo. Everyone was busy to get ready as soon as possible to be in time for the big roll call on the large spacious front square of the old part of this huge internment camp. The old part used to be a mental hospital for severe patients and now it was the largest women’s camp in Solo.
Our Japanese commander (Toewan Jap besar) was receiving very distinguished visitors, various pompous and dressed in gorgeous uniforms little Japanese, this for the glory of the commander, who wanted to make a good impression on these highly-placed gentlemen with his camp. Everyone had to be at the square and with everyone he also meant the sick from the infirmary. Still hungry everyone walked in silence to the large square wondering what would happen next. Every time it was a mystery to me, how all these hungry women still could give each other terrific recipes. At a certain moment we all stood in the right place with our barrack head and you could see how big the camp was and how many women there were in this camp. All names were called, everybody was there also the sick and half dead, it didn’t matter how you felt, you had to be there other wise the “kempetai” (something like the Gestapo) would come and take you away. All these rows full of women, children, sick, disabled and nuns stood perfectly still in the sweltering heat. In front of us was the large covered terrace, where a long table was placed with chairs behind it. After leaving us standing there for a quarter of an hour, the highly-placed men came out from aside the porch and sat down on their chairs. As last one the camp commander sat down with his shining sword. Suddenly there was a big commotion from where the beds of the sick were and before we knew it our only female physician, Dr. Engels was there, who initially had refused to take the dying people outside, but had done it because her helpers had pointed out to her, that they would be punished if she didn’t do it, because everyone had to be there.
From that corner came much noise of the wailing and sobbing of the very sick people in the scorching sun. Many fainted in their beds and nobody could do anything for them. The sun rose higher, the heat became even worse. Also in our group people fainted, children and babies began to moan. Desperate mothers tried to help them, but they also didn’t know what to do. Sweat gushed from you and you got a shortage of liquid. We were overcome by hunger, thirst and fatigue. On the porch the Japanese had an elaborate meal and drinks, served by Indonesian men, while our commander as proud as a peacock walked back and forth. Coming out of the blue Dr. Engels suddenly was on the porch and walked toward the commander with large steps and before anyone realized she venomously spoke to him without having bend for him first. Before anyone had got over the first fright, a terrible tragedy took place before all our eyes. The commander roared that she had to bow. She just kept nodding, she screamed about the dying and the sick. He slapped her in the middle of her face, she gave him a slap back. Deathly silence followed. All hell broke loose. He hit her again and she grabbed his sword. Even as a child, you knew this was completely wrong. Then before our eyes, she was beaten up by him with a whip. There she lay, a heap of misery, screaming in pain and was dragged away by two guards to the house outside the yard. Everybody knew that from there you didn’t come out alive. As punishment we had to stay on the square until deep into the night without food or drink and hear the screams coming from that little house just behind us, outside the yard. It slowly became softer and then suddenly it stopped. Around midnight we all were allowed to go. Totally gutted and devastated everyone went to their own barracks. First we drank as much as possible and then cleaned ourselves, because while on the square we just had to relieve ourselves there and then. Completely broken we went to bed. I don’t think anyone, big or small, will ever forget Dr. Engels. How pointless it all was and such a pity to loose such a sweet young doctor this way.
Dinkie
Slowly the dark night changed into another very hot day in camp Solo. Everyone was busy to get ready as soon as possible to be in time for the big roll call on the large spacious front square of the old part of this huge internment camp. The old part used to be a mental hospital for severe patients and now it was the largest women’s camp in Solo.
Our Japanese commander (Toewan Jap besar) was receiving very distinguished visitors, various pompous and dressed in gorgeous uniforms little Japanese, this for the glory of the commander, who wanted to make a good impression on these highly-placed gentlemen with his camp. Everyone had to be at the square and with everyone he also meant the sick from the infirmary. Still hungry everyone walked in silence to the large square wondering what would happen next. Every time it was a mystery to me, how all these hungry women still could give each other terrific recipes. At a certain moment we all stood in the right place with our barrack head and you could see how big the camp was and how many women there were in this camp. All names were called, everybody was there also the sick and half dead, it didn’t matter how you felt, you had to be there other wise the “kempetai” (something like the Gestapo) would come and take you away. All these rows full of women, children, sick, disabled and nuns stood perfectly still in the sweltering heat. In front of us was the large covered terrace, where a long table was placed with chairs behind it. After leaving us standing there for a quarter of an hour, the highly-placed men came out from aside the porch and sat down on their chairs. As last one the camp commander sat down with his shining sword. Suddenly there was a big commotion from where the beds of the sick were and before we knew it our only female physician, Dr. Engels was there, who initially had refused to take the dying people outside, but had done it because her helpers had pointed out to her, that they would be punished if she didn’t do it, because everyone had to be there.
From that corner came much noise of the wailing and sobbing of the very sick people in the scorching sun. Many fainted in their beds and nobody could do anything for them. The sun rose higher, the heat became even worse. Also in our group people fainted, children and babies began to moan. Desperate mothers tried to help them, but they also didn’t know what to do. Sweat gushed from you and you got a shortage of liquid. We were overcome by hunger, thirst and fatigue. On the porch the Japanese had an elaborate meal and drinks, served by Indonesian men, while our commander as proud as a peacock walked back and forth. Coming out of the blue Dr. Engels suddenly was on the porch and walked toward the commander with large steps and before anyone realized she venomously spoke to him without having bend for him first. Before anyone had got over the first fright, a terrible tragedy took place before all our eyes. The commander roared that she had to bow. She just kept nodding, she screamed about the dying and the sick. He slapped her in the middle of her face, she gave him a slap back. Deathly silence followed. All hell broke loose. He hit her again and she grabbed his sword. Even as a child, you knew this was completely wrong. Then before our eyes, she was beaten up by him with a whip. There she lay, a heap of misery, screaming in pain and was dragged away by two guards to the house outside the yard. Everybody knew that from there you didn’t come out alive. As punishment we had to stay on the square until deep into the night without food or drink and hear the screams coming from that little house just behind us, outside the yard. It slowly became softer and then suddenly it stopped. Around midnight we all were allowed to go. Totally gutted and devastated everyone went to their own barracks. First we drank as much as possible and then cleaned ourselves, because while on the square we just had to relieve ourselves there and then. Completely broken we went to bed. I don’t think anyone, big or small, will ever forget Dr. Engels. How pointless it all was and such a pity to loose such a sweet young doctor this way.
Dinkie
donderdag 31 maart 2011
The Second Remarkable Story of a Friend.
THE SECOND REMARKABLE STORY
Jubail, a camp in the dessert in Saudi Arabia, a giant litter of sand containing a few hundred prefab houses in the middle of nowhere, near to the coast of the Persian Gulf.
There were three companies represented, Volker (Holland), Hochtief (Germany) and CCC (a Lebanese company). We were there for Volker. In that camp I soon had a Dutch friend, Map, she stood head and shoulders above the rest. She was Dutch and very straight, what you see is what you get, had her heart on her sleeve, was honest and under her armor very sweet. We saw each other regularly at the pool or at her house. She had three children, who went to the Dutch school together with my youngest son. The rest of my days I spent with Lebanese, Egyptian and Palestinian women, with whom I felt at home. I also did a lot with little May, the baby of my Palestinian neighbour Leila, who also was my best friend there.
Later in Holland my friendship with Map continued, mostly via phone calls and once in two months, Map her husband, Willem and me, the four of us had diner together, which was always very nice. Her husband, a lover of big American cars, drove us around in Vlaardingen or in Zeeland, very luxurious and comfortable. Peter, her husband worked on an oil platform in the Caspian sea, one month he was there and one month he was at home. When he was at work, we phoned a lot talking about our kids, animals, houses and books.
One day out of the blue she decided to let the dentist pull all her teeth and wear a beautiful new denture, she would have it done all at once. She also wanted to lift her eyelids. I thought it was very rigorous. But resolutely as she was, it was done as she had said. Her teeth first, six weeks of pain, longer due to an inflammation, getting peneciline, eating porridge and soft foods and still in pain. To make matters worse, the plastic surgeon detected a small cancerous spot next to her eye. It wasn’t malicious, but it had to be taken away before she had the eyelid operation.
She also had a terrible fight with the daughter’s neighbour. She was very angry at him. Suddenly she called and said: “Dinkie, I will die very soon and I will not see my children and grandchildren grow up”. I was shocked: “Map, how can you say something like that? Only because of that spot on your skin, that is nothing. For your teeth you get peneciline so there is nothing wrong”. She kept on talking about her death and saying goodbye. I was very afraid, this wasn’t Map. She also told me that her daughters child, being two years old, had suddenly called out the name of their beloved cat who died years ago and who had become 18 years old and was immensly loved by her own children. She phoned me asking how is this possible, how could she had known the cat's name. How is that possible Dinkie? You believe in reincarnation, can you tell me something about it. That I believed in it, has to do with an incident that had taken place in my youth. I‘ve been outside my body for two hours, followed my parents who went to the movies, which unfortunately was sold out. Then they went to a cozy restaurant ordered coffee and cake and half past eight they went to another cinema where they were able to get tickets and went in. After that I went back and saw myself laying on bed and at that moment I became aware that I was out of my body and the next moment I was pulled back into my body. Next morning I went to my parents and told them what they had done, even what the waiter did, that they had white tablecloths and ate cakes and that there was live music. Everything in colour and odor. My father said that I had an out of body experience and that I should never do it again, because it was very dangerous. The babysitter that night had seen us (my brother and I) sleeping peacefully. Map kept on asking about it, she had to know everything. I then told her to buy a book about little children, who remembered their past lives, the book was named,: “Earlier when I was a grown up”, It is about children and reincarnation, she loved it and we talked for hours about this subject.
“Dinkie, if it is true, then dying is not so bad, because you’re not dead, you will live forever in your soul”. And so Map talked on and on about saying goodbye to all and everyone. First I thought that she was overdoing it and got scared of here talking constantly about dying.
One Friday afternoon she called again: “Dinkie, I am so afraid, I have to talk to you, do you have time?” I unfortunately didn’t have time because my granddaughter was with me and I had to take care of her. Then the most remarkable thing happened. She said: “that’s a pity, but always remember that I love you, never forget it”. I said: “I love you too and will call you first thing tomorrow”. “That’s not possible, I will be shopping with my daughter”. “Okay, then I’ll call you on Sunday”. “Fine, lots of love, till Sunday”. This was so not Map. I was pondering over it all Friday and Saturday. Then it was Sunday and I was going to call her. We were still in bed when at nine thirty the phone rang, it was her son. “I call to tell you that my mother died Saturday morning”. Oh God, we were shocked and completely devastated. No one knew what had happened. Her daughter had found her laying next to her bed, she was supposed to go shopping with here mother, but when her mother did not come, she phoned her, got no answer and went to the house where she found her. For days I was very sad and blamed myself that I hadn’t called her on Friday evening. It took a long time before I could grasp it and from now on I more often tell the people I care for that I love them. That one sentence from her has helped me through, that was a gift. Map was 52 years old.
Dinkie
Jubail, a camp in the dessert in Saudi Arabia, a giant litter of sand containing a few hundred prefab houses in the middle of nowhere, near to the coast of the Persian Gulf.
There were three companies represented, Volker (Holland), Hochtief (Germany) and CCC (a Lebanese company). We were there for Volker. In that camp I soon had a Dutch friend, Map, she stood head and shoulders above the rest. She was Dutch and very straight, what you see is what you get, had her heart on her sleeve, was honest and under her armor very sweet. We saw each other regularly at the pool or at her house. She had three children, who went to the Dutch school together with my youngest son. The rest of my days I spent with Lebanese, Egyptian and Palestinian women, with whom I felt at home. I also did a lot with little May, the baby of my Palestinian neighbour Leila, who also was my best friend there.
Later in Holland my friendship with Map continued, mostly via phone calls and once in two months, Map her husband, Willem and me, the four of us had diner together, which was always very nice. Her husband, a lover of big American cars, drove us around in Vlaardingen or in Zeeland, very luxurious and comfortable. Peter, her husband worked on an oil platform in the Caspian sea, one month he was there and one month he was at home. When he was at work, we phoned a lot talking about our kids, animals, houses and books.
One day out of the blue she decided to let the dentist pull all her teeth and wear a beautiful new denture, she would have it done all at once. She also wanted to lift her eyelids. I thought it was very rigorous. But resolutely as she was, it was done as she had said. Her teeth first, six weeks of pain, longer due to an inflammation, getting peneciline, eating porridge and soft foods and still in pain. To make matters worse, the plastic surgeon detected a small cancerous spot next to her eye. It wasn’t malicious, but it had to be taken away before she had the eyelid operation.
She also had a terrible fight with the daughter’s neighbour. She was very angry at him. Suddenly she called and said: “Dinkie, I will die very soon and I will not see my children and grandchildren grow up”. I was shocked: “Map, how can you say something like that? Only because of that spot on your skin, that is nothing. For your teeth you get peneciline so there is nothing wrong”. She kept on talking about her death and saying goodbye. I was very afraid, this wasn’t Map. She also told me that her daughters child, being two years old, had suddenly called out the name of their beloved cat who died years ago and who had become 18 years old and was immensly loved by her own children. She phoned me asking how is this possible, how could she had known the cat's name. How is that possible Dinkie? You believe in reincarnation, can you tell me something about it. That I believed in it, has to do with an incident that had taken place in my youth. I‘ve been outside my body for two hours, followed my parents who went to the movies, which unfortunately was sold out. Then they went to a cozy restaurant ordered coffee and cake and half past eight they went to another cinema where they were able to get tickets and went in. After that I went back and saw myself laying on bed and at that moment I became aware that I was out of my body and the next moment I was pulled back into my body. Next morning I went to my parents and told them what they had done, even what the waiter did, that they had white tablecloths and ate cakes and that there was live music. Everything in colour and odor. My father said that I had an out of body experience and that I should never do it again, because it was very dangerous. The babysitter that night had seen us (my brother and I) sleeping peacefully. Map kept on asking about it, she had to know everything. I then told her to buy a book about little children, who remembered their past lives, the book was named,: “Earlier when I was a grown up”, It is about children and reincarnation, she loved it and we talked for hours about this subject.
“Dinkie, if it is true, then dying is not so bad, because you’re not dead, you will live forever in your soul”. And so Map talked on and on about saying goodbye to all and everyone. First I thought that she was overdoing it and got scared of here talking constantly about dying.
One Friday afternoon she called again: “Dinkie, I am so afraid, I have to talk to you, do you have time?” I unfortunately didn’t have time because my granddaughter was with me and I had to take care of her. Then the most remarkable thing happened. She said: “that’s a pity, but always remember that I love you, never forget it”. I said: “I love you too and will call you first thing tomorrow”. “That’s not possible, I will be shopping with my daughter”. “Okay, then I’ll call you on Sunday”. “Fine, lots of love, till Sunday”. This was so not Map. I was pondering over it all Friday and Saturday. Then it was Sunday and I was going to call her. We were still in bed when at nine thirty the phone rang, it was her son. “I call to tell you that my mother died Saturday morning”. Oh God, we were shocked and completely devastated. No one knew what had happened. Her daughter had found her laying next to her bed, she was supposed to go shopping with here mother, but when her mother did not come, she phoned her, got no answer and went to the house where she found her. For days I was very sad and blamed myself that I hadn’t called her on Friday evening. It took a long time before I could grasp it and from now on I more often tell the people I care for that I love them. That one sentence from her has helped me through, that was a gift. Map was 52 years old.
Dinkie
Two Stories in Memory of Two Special Friends.
I was happy that Hennie became my friend even though she lived in a village further on.
On chilly winter days we often visited each other and had a coffee together. We both were fond of gardening and went quite often to rose growers and garden centers. We also followed a hobby course together, we tryed to make beautiful things like dols and theepots, painting them, many more things. She was much better because she had more patience than me, but doing things together made both our lives happier. Also we read the same books and talked about them extensively. Every time we cozily sat outside in her arbor drinking coffee or tea, she told me about her many travels to Brazil, South Africa, Tunisia, Norway, etc. One day she said: ”my husband wants to take me to Thailand”. “Oh lovely, Hennie”. “Yes Dinkie, but I don’t want to go. It’s not the first time that I don’t want to go and every time he starts talking about it again”. “But why Hennie, why don’t you want to go there?” “Dinkie, I don’t know. I am scared to death to go to that country”. We have talked about it for hours, but she still had nightmares about Thailand, she was so scared and she didn’t know why. In the beginning I thought it was strange, but at a certain moment we stopped talking about it, it made here always upset, because she herself did not understand. Five years, and many countries later, on December 23rd, I met her again at her daughter’s place. “Dinkie, you will never guess where I’m going on the 4th of January?” I didn’t guess of course. Thailand, she said, how do you like that. We have met a couple in Spain, who go there every year during the winter for two months and they asked us to come along. With them I dare to do it, it actually is nonsense that I shouldn’t. It is beautiful there and we are only going for one month. Of course, I’m still frightened, but I will try it any way, how about that. I said: ”Hennie, are you sure, you’ve been so frantic about it for so long, is this really what you want?” “Dinkie, it’s now or never. With the four of us I’ll dare to do it.” “Okay, dear Hennie, have a good trip, be careful and have lots of fun”. Hennie left and on January 7 her daughter called me in the morning and in tears she told me that here dear mother had died in Thailand. I cried and screamed how is this possible, than she told me that after dinner the evening before she was not feeling well. The next morning she still felt terrible she had to vomit and felt sick, here husband wanted to call a doctor, but as he was being busy doing that, his wife got worse and before his astounded eyes, his wife died, she had been ill only for some hours. No one knew what caused her death. Her husband didn’t want an autopsy to be conducted in Thailand, he wanted to come home as soon as possible, he was completly in shock. And so Hennie came home in a lead coffin and there I saw the lovely woman Henny again, who had been so afraid to go to Thailand. My heart was crying for here, all this time she had somehow known that she should not go there. We said goodbye to her in our community center. Hennie was only 52 years old, much too young. I lost a dear friend, she was too young to die. 9 of january I recieved a postcard from here:" Dinkie I am here and everything is oke, beautiful hotel and beautiful wether, all is wel, see you in Holland again.
Dinkie
On chilly winter days we often visited each other and had a coffee together. We both were fond of gardening and went quite often to rose growers and garden centers. We also followed a hobby course together, we tryed to make beautiful things like dols and theepots, painting them, many more things. She was much better because she had more patience than me, but doing things together made both our lives happier. Also we read the same books and talked about them extensively. Every time we cozily sat outside in her arbor drinking coffee or tea, she told me about her many travels to Brazil, South Africa, Tunisia, Norway, etc. One day she said: ”my husband wants to take me to Thailand”. “Oh lovely, Hennie”. “Yes Dinkie, but I don’t want to go. It’s not the first time that I don’t want to go and every time he starts talking about it again”. “But why Hennie, why don’t you want to go there?” “Dinkie, I don’t know. I am scared to death to go to that country”. We have talked about it for hours, but she still had nightmares about Thailand, she was so scared and she didn’t know why. In the beginning I thought it was strange, but at a certain moment we stopped talking about it, it made here always upset, because she herself did not understand. Five years, and many countries later, on December 23rd, I met her again at her daughter’s place. “Dinkie, you will never guess where I’m going on the 4th of January?” I didn’t guess of course. Thailand, she said, how do you like that. We have met a couple in Spain, who go there every year during the winter for two months and they asked us to come along. With them I dare to do it, it actually is nonsense that I shouldn’t. It is beautiful there and we are only going for one month. Of course, I’m still frightened, but I will try it any way, how about that. I said: ”Hennie, are you sure, you’ve been so frantic about it for so long, is this really what you want?” “Dinkie, it’s now or never. With the four of us I’ll dare to do it.” “Okay, dear Hennie, have a good trip, be careful and have lots of fun”. Hennie left and on January 7 her daughter called me in the morning and in tears she told me that here dear mother had died in Thailand. I cried and screamed how is this possible, than she told me that after dinner the evening before she was not feeling well. The next morning she still felt terrible she had to vomit and felt sick, here husband wanted to call a doctor, but as he was being busy doing that, his wife got worse and before his astounded eyes, his wife died, she had been ill only for some hours. No one knew what caused her death. Her husband didn’t want an autopsy to be conducted in Thailand, he wanted to come home as soon as possible, he was completly in shock. And so Hennie came home in a lead coffin and there I saw the lovely woman Henny again, who had been so afraid to go to Thailand. My heart was crying for here, all this time she had somehow known that she should not go there. We said goodbye to her in our community center. Hennie was only 52 years old, much too young. I lost a dear friend, she was too young to die. 9 of january I recieved a postcard from here:" Dinkie I am here and everything is oke, beautiful hotel and beautiful wether, all is wel, see you in Holland again.
Dinkie
maandag 14 maart 2011
Elementary School in Wassenaar.
ELEMENTARY SCHOOL IN HOLLAND IN WASSENAAR
There, shy and slowly she went to a regular school, for the first time, in the 5th grade in September 1947. After being in Japanese concentration camps for 4 years without education, now 12 years old in beautiful Wassenaar. Skinny, yellow and with rotting front teeth, she didn’t dare to smile or talk head up, because then only six black stumps would laugh at you. There in that big classroom, she was also aware of the huge gap in education she had.
In this solidly formed community, she was an attraction. She was bullied a lot and not accepted. For days she walked, all on her own during the breaks, looking here and there what the others were doing and was completely ignored. Heartbroken and alone she went home, where she worked very hard to catch up on the learning deficit. Even in the summer she was busy, writing many chapters about the Netherlands so the information was ingrained in her head. Then she would sell the written chapters for some money to children, who had to copy these chapters about the provinces when they were punished for something they did wrong in the classroom.
During this period at school, she also went to Utrecht for a big operation on her teeth. This operation took place in a gallery room, where also a large group of dental students were sitting to watch the operation on her teeth and listening to the professor, who did his utmost to clean the roots and even the inside of the nostrils. In the midst of it all she fainted and some students took very nice care of her caressing her. After 1½ hours they were finally finished and she could leave with a lot of stitches above her teeth. The students applauded and dying from the pain, she went to her grandmother, who lived in Utrecht. Her grandmother put her to bed with a couple of aspirins. On these cleaned roots, small silver and sharp teeth were made, upon which later six beautiful white teeth would be placed. With those scary silver teeth she could play in a horror movie. The harassment at school became twice as bad. Going to school became a torture.
The only thing that comforted her was that her teacher was totally committed to help her as much as he could and it worked.
One day, again walking alone at the playground, watching those cheerful, playing and laughing children, she stopped by a group of girls of the sixth grade, who were rope jumping. Tineke, the most popular girl in school and the favorite of the headmaster, with curly blond hair, bright blue eyes, very bold with a beautiful singing voice, came to her suddenly and said in a loud and clear voice to the group: “As of now on she will also join us”. And so it happened. From that day on I was completely accepted by the group and than a great period of happines and joy at school started.
I could have never imagined, that her first daughter would one day become my daughter in law, she would marry my oldest son Walter, who gave us two grandchildren who we thoroughly enjoyed. I still see her on their birthdays and have always stayed in touch with her for all these years. This Tineke is now also an elderly lady, still with a strong will, real tough and as far as I know also “old and cheerful”.
Dinkie
There, shy and slowly she went to a regular school, for the first time, in the 5th grade in September 1947. After being in Japanese concentration camps for 4 years without education, now 12 years old in beautiful Wassenaar. Skinny, yellow and with rotting front teeth, she didn’t dare to smile or talk head up, because then only six black stumps would laugh at you. There in that big classroom, she was also aware of the huge gap in education she had.
In this solidly formed community, she was an attraction. She was bullied a lot and not accepted. For days she walked, all on her own during the breaks, looking here and there what the others were doing and was completely ignored. Heartbroken and alone she went home, where she worked very hard to catch up on the learning deficit. Even in the summer she was busy, writing many chapters about the Netherlands so the information was ingrained in her head. Then she would sell the written chapters for some money to children, who had to copy these chapters about the provinces when they were punished for something they did wrong in the classroom.
During this period at school, she also went to Utrecht for a big operation on her teeth. This operation took place in a gallery room, where also a large group of dental students were sitting to watch the operation on her teeth and listening to the professor, who did his utmost to clean the roots and even the inside of the nostrils. In the midst of it all she fainted and some students took very nice care of her caressing her. After 1½ hours they were finally finished and she could leave with a lot of stitches above her teeth. The students applauded and dying from the pain, she went to her grandmother, who lived in Utrecht. Her grandmother put her to bed with a couple of aspirins. On these cleaned roots, small silver and sharp teeth were made, upon which later six beautiful white teeth would be placed. With those scary silver teeth she could play in a horror movie. The harassment at school became twice as bad. Going to school became a torture.
The only thing that comforted her was that her teacher was totally committed to help her as much as he could and it worked.
One day, again walking alone at the playground, watching those cheerful, playing and laughing children, she stopped by a group of girls of the sixth grade, who were rope jumping. Tineke, the most popular girl in school and the favorite of the headmaster, with curly blond hair, bright blue eyes, very bold with a beautiful singing voice, came to her suddenly and said in a loud and clear voice to the group: “As of now on she will also join us”. And so it happened. From that day on I was completely accepted by the group and than a great period of happines and joy at school started.
I could have never imagined, that her first daughter would one day become my daughter in law, she would marry my oldest son Walter, who gave us two grandchildren who we thoroughly enjoyed. I still see her on their birthdays and have always stayed in touch with her for all these years. This Tineke is now also an elderly lady, still with a strong will, real tough and as far as I know also “old and cheerful”.
Dinkie
A Miraculous Event
THE FIRST SON
A MIRACULOUS EVENT
Together we walked through the night. And shining brightly the moon perfected her job. She spoke softly: “I am pregnant and just only engaged”. Jokko turned faded: “Dinkie, what will happen now, we still have three months to go at school and our final exams”. “Dear friend , I wouldn’t know”. In 1955 this was a disgrace, a huge disgrace, even when you were officially engaged. How do you tell your parents, who lived according their rules of class, rank and good education. The future father was safely at sea, far away. Jokko stayed with me and we talked in a whisper well into the night, putting together a scenario.
One loving moment, the first time,ending with this result. After Jokko left for Leiden, I waited until my grandmother, who was staying with us for the weekend, had arrived. Deep in my heart I didn’t think it was a problem, it was a miracle that took place. Then it was Saturday. Nervously, during happy hour, I blurted out the news. A bombshell hadn’t possibly given a worse reaction. My parents were furious, it was so bad, that my mother even used physical violence.
It became so bad, that I fled, not forgetting to take some money with me. By bus I went to my best friend Ginette, sobbing all the way. Her father, who was also at home said: “Dear child, you can stay with us for as long as you need to”. In their beautiful villa in Wassenaar, was enough space. Angela, her mother, said: ”you can even have the baby here, no problem”. I then cried from happiness and relief. I thought I had to sleep under a bridge without food, drink and money.
As I have been staying over there lots of time, I adjusted myself easily to their routine. Finally, after three days my mother called and told Angela that she wanted me to come home, promising that they would discuss the matter with me in peace. At home all was quiet and everything was arranged. I had to go back to college and prepare for the final exams. As soon as the father of my baby would be home again, we had to marry straight away. Everything was all planned with his parents as wel. So my little embryo went to school with me, which gave much hilarity, and also took part in the exams and passed it with me with flying colours.
Then after tree months the father was home and we got married, it was a beautiful wedding with hundreds of guests in the magnificent Townhall in Wassenaar. Afterwards we had a big party in our garden and my parents were very satisfied then. And so after nine months, the first miracle came into my life, my son. I was just overly nervous about the sudden total responsibility for such a small, helpless and dependent creature, day and night. That pressure was enormous, gigantic, but also very nice. And now on my 74th year it became a lifestyle.
Dinkie
A MIRACULOUS EVENT
Together we walked through the night. And shining brightly the moon perfected her job. She spoke softly: “I am pregnant and just only engaged”. Jokko turned faded: “Dinkie, what will happen now, we still have three months to go at school and our final exams”. “Dear friend , I wouldn’t know”. In 1955 this was a disgrace, a huge disgrace, even when you were officially engaged. How do you tell your parents, who lived according their rules of class, rank and good education. The future father was safely at sea, far away. Jokko stayed with me and we talked in a whisper well into the night, putting together a scenario.
One loving moment, the first time,ending with this result. After Jokko left for Leiden, I waited until my grandmother, who was staying with us for the weekend, had arrived. Deep in my heart I didn’t think it was a problem, it was a miracle that took place. Then it was Saturday. Nervously, during happy hour, I blurted out the news. A bombshell hadn’t possibly given a worse reaction. My parents were furious, it was so bad, that my mother even used physical violence.
It became so bad, that I fled, not forgetting to take some money with me. By bus I went to my best friend Ginette, sobbing all the way. Her father, who was also at home said: “Dear child, you can stay with us for as long as you need to”. In their beautiful villa in Wassenaar, was enough space. Angela, her mother, said: ”you can even have the baby here, no problem”. I then cried from happiness and relief. I thought I had to sleep under a bridge without food, drink and money.
As I have been staying over there lots of time, I adjusted myself easily to their routine. Finally, after three days my mother called and told Angela that she wanted me to come home, promising that they would discuss the matter with me in peace. At home all was quiet and everything was arranged. I had to go back to college and prepare for the final exams. As soon as the father of my baby would be home again, we had to marry straight away. Everything was all planned with his parents as wel. So my little embryo went to school with me, which gave much hilarity, and also took part in the exams and passed it with me with flying colours.
Then after tree months the father was home and we got married, it was a beautiful wedding with hundreds of guests in the magnificent Townhall in Wassenaar. Afterwards we had a big party in our garden and my parents were very satisfied then. And so after nine months, the first miracle came into my life, my son. I was just overly nervous about the sudden total responsibility for such a small, helpless and dependent creature, day and night. That pressure was enormous, gigantic, but also very nice. And now on my 74th year it became a lifestyle.
Dinkie
zaterdag 26 februari 2011
Living On An Earth Radius.
LIVING ON AN EARTH RADIUS
The house of my youngest son is called the “vijf senses”, which I think is a beautiful name. The house was built around 1885 and in that time it used to be a farm. It is big and has at least been rebuilt ten times. Here and there you still will find something very old.
Our house was also built in 1884 or earlier. It consisted of a house and a shop where meat was sold. Now it is also completely rebuilt. An old house will always give you work to do, it never ends, but it has an atmosphere that you will find nowhere, it feels like a warm blanket around you.
A fortune teller came to visit us here and she felt that there was a great earth radius running through the house and she told us: you should never leave. We had also noticed that since we lived here, we hardly had any problems, everything just runs smoothly and the problems we encountererd were dissolved great.
It is also curious that everything that was planted in the garden is growing incredibly. We have a willow, which has become very big, it is just scary. It is 25 years old now. A bit further in the street were also two willows planted in 1953 but the trunk of these trees are much thinner than ours. The growth here is almost impossible to stop, everything here grows fast and tall. The funny thing is that everyone coming here always say that we live in a small paradise. There hasn’t been anyone not saying it and now we even wait and expect people to say it and usely it happens.
Once I met two older American women, whom I had helped in Zierikzee, they could not find their hotel anymore, they were lost and I invited them to visit me, because I really liked them and they seemed a bit lonely. When they came in the house the first thing they said, its like a little paradise, I said it is an old house with many wrong things.
Now that we have plans to move in the future and this place will be up for sale, we want to live in Drente or elswhere, but where and how will we ever find another house with such a good earth radius which brings us so much luck. We have to be looking at the height of the trees and have to get a warm feeling, meaning it feels good, what else can we do and will we ever find it??????.
Let’s hope that we will be able to find such a place again. We will do our utmost best,if we will find it remains to be seen. I sincerely hope that we will succeed.
Dinkie.
The house of my youngest son is called the “vijf senses”, which I think is a beautiful name. The house was built around 1885 and in that time it used to be a farm. It is big and has at least been rebuilt ten times. Here and there you still will find something very old.
Our house was also built in 1884 or earlier. It consisted of a house and a shop where meat was sold. Now it is also completely rebuilt. An old house will always give you work to do, it never ends, but it has an atmosphere that you will find nowhere, it feels like a warm blanket around you.
A fortune teller came to visit us here and she felt that there was a great earth radius running through the house and she told us: you should never leave. We had also noticed that since we lived here, we hardly had any problems, everything just runs smoothly and the problems we encountererd were dissolved great.
It is also curious that everything that was planted in the garden is growing incredibly. We have a willow, which has become very big, it is just scary. It is 25 years old now. A bit further in the street were also two willows planted in 1953 but the trunk of these trees are much thinner than ours. The growth here is almost impossible to stop, everything here grows fast and tall. The funny thing is that everyone coming here always say that we live in a small paradise. There hasn’t been anyone not saying it and now we even wait and expect people to say it and usely it happens.
Once I met two older American women, whom I had helped in Zierikzee, they could not find their hotel anymore, they were lost and I invited them to visit me, because I really liked them and they seemed a bit lonely. When they came in the house the first thing they said, its like a little paradise, I said it is an old house with many wrong things.
Now that we have plans to move in the future and this place will be up for sale, we want to live in Drente or elswhere, but where and how will we ever find another house with such a good earth radius which brings us so much luck. We have to be looking at the height of the trees and have to get a warm feeling, meaning it feels good, what else can we do and will we ever find it??????.
Let’s hope that we will be able to find such a place again. We will do our utmost best,if we will find it remains to be seen. I sincerely hope that we will succeed.
Dinkie.
Continuation Aunt Truus.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
CONTINUATION AUNT TRUUS
Together with Noor and Marijke I went to all family birthdays and also to see the mother of aunt Truus, who lived above their big toy shop the “The City Parijs”. We were allowed to play in the warehouse, but we had to be careful. There I also met the other members of the Looman family, all uncles, aunts and their children. Also we often went cycling and picknicking on the “Leusderheide”, where I was drinking and eating and looking at my dearest new aunt and uncle, who were very nice to each other. Thus a lovely summer and wonderful winter passed, it was one of the most carefree and happy times I have known as a child.
Bernadette was born and later Jacinta and I was part of it all, I completely belonged. Then suddenly it was over, my father got a new working area: The Hague, Wassenaar, Rijswijk, Voorburg, Voorschoten and Leidschendam and we had to leave Amersfoort. First for half a year he went alone to The Hague and when he found us an house we had to come over. After 1½ years, I had to go away from my new family, leaving behind all those wonderful days with those lovely children, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cozy summer with ice creams, picknicks, warmth, cordiality and lots of love from everyone. I was intensely sad and for many years I stayed with them every summer. I went as often as it could, because I was dependent on others and with school and studies, it sometimes was a bit difficult. Meanwhile, Pia and then Michiel were born. They had six children and still, she made everything so nice, very clever I thought.
After I was married we lived one year in De Bilt and at that time I have been visiting her many times, as the Bilt was close to Amersfoort, again having a wonderful time with her.
Then I moved to Nieuwkoop and it became more difficult to go away with 3 children and no transportation. She remained though the woman whose example I always followed. My shining example and once I felt that her image was no longer burned into my soul with all its warmth and love, I went to look her up and sooked up again the warmth and love that she gave so freely to me. I wanted to try to be like her as a wife and a mother. Later, together with Willem, we have visited her as much as we could and saw how she, an inner and outer beautiful woman, became a very loving grandmother, even though she had a lot of grief, but she accepted all her sorrow and personal terrible sickness and trouble in her own lovely way. Never a complaint. For hours we talked about life and everything. Never in my life have I met such a wonderful person who gave me so much freely of her own time as my aunt Truus. She unfortunately died at the age of 83 and there at her funeral I stood at the same cemetery in the same Bergstraat opposite the house where I first so many years ago met her and now I had to say goodbye to her for good. The circle of our life together was around in the same Bergstraat.
She never dropped me, she has never given me the feeling that I didn’t belong, she has never disappointed me. I was always amazed by the warm way she took me in her arms and later also Willem. She has touched me deep in my soul and given me the warmth that I had so longed for, my aunt Truus.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
AUNT TRUUS
After our arrival in Holland, read also the reunion with my father, we came to live in the Bergstraat in Amersfoort in a double upstairs apartment opposite the cemetery. Every night I looked at it from my bed in the little room above the front door. For the first time the family was together again. My brother and I loved it, we hadn’t seen each other also for while. Once a week we went to the baths on Sunday morning to take a shower with boiling hot water and to wash our hair, clean and warm we came home again for lunch. After a couple of weeks my father unfortunately had to go to Dordrecht alone for a freshing up course in his trade with his old company. At home it became quieter again and with a strict mother, you couldn’t do very much.
One day the doorbell rang and I opened the door and a very sweet voice said, you must be Dinkie. Yes, I said. I am here to bring your mother something and I am aunt Truus. A very warm feeling come over me, there stood the loveliest, sweetest person I have ever met, who with all her warmth came to me. I was speechless. She had brought a box with her with a pink dinner service. We thought it was wonderful. She was the wife of my father’s colleague in Amersfoort and through the company she had heard everything about us and came as soon as she could with all her love and generosity to see whether she could do something for us. My mother offered her tea and said that she was very glad with the dinner service but that everything was allright and that we had all we needed. After tea my dearest new aunt Truus said, maybe Dinkie would like to come and play at our place with Marijke and Noortje, she will be most welcome. So I will see you this afternoon, that is agreed then and there she went. My heart was in my throat from joy and nothing could keep me from going, the appointment was already made, so even my mother couldn’t stop me. In the afternoon I went there, full of expectation. Finally, I found the Paulus Buyslaan and stood in front of the most adorable house you can imagine with a thatched roof. The door was opened and there I was once and for all taken in by that loving warm family. From that time I was there almost every day playing with Marijke and Noortje and enjoyed it very much. They were very dear sisters to me. My heart longed for this cozy, gay and warm family. There also was uncle Gerard, the father of the family a very kind man, who liked playing the violin and when he did, we all sang along.
There also was Juffie, who helped aunt Truus running the house. I will never forget the big table where we all sat and had dinner and where before dinner a prayer was always said by one of the children. Marijke especially was very good at it. Noortje sometimes forgot something.
Will be continued.
Dinkie
CONTINUATION AUNT TRUUS
Together with Noor and Marijke I went to all family birthdays and also to see the mother of aunt Truus, who lived above their big toy shop the “The City Parijs”. We were allowed to play in the warehouse, but we had to be careful. There I also met the other members of the Looman family, all uncles, aunts and their children. Also we often went cycling and picknicking on the “Leusderheide”, where I was drinking and eating and looking at my dearest new aunt and uncle, who were very nice to each other. Thus a lovely summer and wonderful winter passed, it was one of the most carefree and happy times I have known as a child.
Bernadette was born and later Jacinta and I was part of it all, I completely belonged. Then suddenly it was over, my father got a new working area: The Hague, Wassenaar, Rijswijk, Voorburg, Voorschoten and Leidschendam and we had to leave Amersfoort. First for half a year he went alone to The Hague and when he found us an house we had to come over. After 1½ years, I had to go away from my new family, leaving behind all those wonderful days with those lovely children, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cozy summer with ice creams, picknicks, warmth, cordiality and lots of love from everyone. I was intensely sad and for many years I stayed with them every summer. I went as often as it could, because I was dependent on others and with school and studies, it sometimes was a bit difficult. Meanwhile, Pia and then Michiel were born. They had six children and still, she made everything so nice, very clever I thought.
After I was married we lived one year in De Bilt and at that time I have been visiting her many times, as the Bilt was close to Amersfoort, again having a wonderful time with her.
Then I moved to Nieuwkoop and it became more difficult to go away with 3 children and no transportation. She remained though the woman whose example I always followed. My shining example and once I felt that her image was no longer burned into my soul with all its warmth and love, I went to look her up and sooked up again the warmth and love that she gave so freely to me. I wanted to try to be like her as a wife and a mother. Later, together with Willem, we have visited her as much as we could and saw how she, an inner and outer beautiful woman, became a very loving grandmother, even though she had a lot of grief, but she accepted all her sorrow and personal terrible sickness and trouble in her own lovely way. Never a complaint. For hours we talked about life and everything. Never in my life have I met such a wonderful person who gave me so much freely of her own time as my aunt Truus. She unfortunately died at the age of 83 and there at her funeral I stood at the same cemetery in the same Bergstraat opposite the house where I first so many years ago met her and now I had to say goodbye to her for good. The circle of our life together was around in the same Bergstraat.
She never dropped me, she has never given me the feeling that I didn’t belong, she has never disappointed me. I was always amazed by the warm way she took me in her arms and later also Willem. She has touched me deep in my soul and given me the warmth that I had so longed for, my aunt Truus.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
AUNT TRUUS
After our arrival in Holland, read also the reunion with my father, we came to live in the Bergstraat in Amersfoort in a double upstairs apartment opposite the cemetery. Every night I looked at it from my bed in the little room above the front door. For the first time the family was together again. My brother and I loved it, we hadn’t seen each other also for while. Once a week we went to the baths on Sunday morning to take a shower with boiling hot water and to wash our hair, clean and warm we came home again for lunch. After a couple of weeks my father unfortunately had to go to Dordrecht alone for a freshing up course in his trade with his old company. At home it became quieter again and with a strict mother, you couldn’t do very much.
One day the doorbell rang and I opened the door and a very sweet voice said, you must be Dinkie. Yes, I said. I am here to bring your mother something and I am aunt Truus. A very warm feeling come over me, there stood the loveliest, sweetest person I have ever met, who with all her warmth came to me. I was speechless. She had brought a box with her with a pink dinner service. We thought it was wonderful. She was the wife of my father’s colleague in Amersfoort and through the company she had heard everything about us and came as soon as she could with all her love and generosity to see whether she could do something for us. My mother offered her tea and said that she was very glad with the dinner service but that everything was allright and that we had all we needed. After tea my dearest new aunt Truus said, maybe Dinkie would like to come and play at our place with Marijke and Noortje, she will be most welcome. So I will see you this afternoon, that is agreed then and there she went. My heart was in my throat from joy and nothing could keep me from going, the appointment was already made, so even my mother couldn’t stop me. In the afternoon I went there, full of expectation. Finally, I found the Paulus Buyslaan and stood in front of the most adorable house you can imagine with a thatched roof. The door was opened and there I was once and for all taken in by that loving warm family. From that time I was there almost every day playing with Marijke and Noortje and enjoyed it very much. They were very dear sisters to me. My heart longed for this cozy, gay and warm family. There also was uncle Gerard, the father of the family a very kind man, who liked playing the violin and when he did, we all sang along.
There also was Juffie, who helped aunt Truus running the house. I will never forget the big table where we all sat and had dinner and where before dinner a prayer was always said by one of the children. Marijke especially was very good at it. Noortje sometimes forgot something.
Will be continued.
Dinkie
My Dear Aunt Truus
AUNT TRUUS
After our arrival in Holland, read also the reunion with my father, we came to live in the Bergstraat in Amersfoort in a double upstairs apartment opposite the cemetery. Every night I looked at it from my bed in the little room above the front door. For the first time the family was together again. My brother and I loved it, we hadn’t seen each other for a very long time. Once a week we went to the bathhouse on Sunday morning to take a shower with boiling hot water and to wash our hair, clean and warm we came with my father together home again for lunch. It was like paradise, we were having a family again and a house, we were belonging to someone and we mattered again. My brother and I were both very happy. After a couple of weeks my father, unfortunately, had to go to Dordrecht alone for a freshing up course in his trade with his old company. At home it became quieter again and with a strict mother, you couldn’t do very much.
One day the doorbell rang and I opened the door and a very sweet voice said, you must be Dinkie. Yes, I said. I am here to bring your mother something and I am aunt Truus. A very warm feeling come over me, there at the foot of the stairs stood the loveliest, sweetest person I have ever met, who with all her warmth came to me. I was speechless. She had brought a box with her with a pink dinner service. We thought it was wonderful. She was the wife of my father’s colleague in Amersfoort and through the company she had heard everything about us and came as soon as she could with all her love and generosity to see whether she could do something for us. My mother offered her tea and said that she was very glad with the dinner service but that everything was allright and that we had all we needed. After tea my dearest new aunt Truus said, maybe Dinkie would like to come and play at our place with Marijke and Noortje, she will be most welcome. So I will see you this afternoon, that is agreed then and before my mother could say one word, she went. My heart was in my throat from joy and nothing could keep me from going, the appointment was already made, so even my mother couldn’t stop me. In the afternoon I went there, full of expectations. Finally, I found the Paulus Buyslaan and stood in front of the most adorable house you can imagine with a thatched roof. The door was opened and there I was once and for all taken in by that loving warm family. From that time on I was there almost every day playing with Marijke and Noortje and enjoying it very much. They were very dear sisters to me. My heart longed for this cozy, gay and warm family. There also was uncle Gerard, the father of the family a very kind man, who liked playing the violin and when he did, we all sang along.
There also was Juffie, who helped aunt Truus running the house. I will never forget the big table where we all sat and had dinner and where before dinner a prayer was always said by one of the children. Marijke especially was very good at it. Noortje sometimes forgot something.
Will be continued.
Dinkie
After our arrival in Holland, read also the reunion with my father, we came to live in the Bergstraat in Amersfoort in a double upstairs apartment opposite the cemetery. Every night I looked at it from my bed in the little room above the front door. For the first time the family was together again. My brother and I loved it, we hadn’t seen each other for a very long time. Once a week we went to the bathhouse on Sunday morning to take a shower with boiling hot water and to wash our hair, clean and warm we came with my father together home again for lunch. It was like paradise, we were having a family again and a house, we were belonging to someone and we mattered again. My brother and I were both very happy. After a couple of weeks my father, unfortunately, had to go to Dordrecht alone for a freshing up course in his trade with his old company. At home it became quieter again and with a strict mother, you couldn’t do very much.
One day the doorbell rang and I opened the door and a very sweet voice said, you must be Dinkie. Yes, I said. I am here to bring your mother something and I am aunt Truus. A very warm feeling come over me, there at the foot of the stairs stood the loveliest, sweetest person I have ever met, who with all her warmth came to me. I was speechless. She had brought a box with her with a pink dinner service. We thought it was wonderful. She was the wife of my father’s colleague in Amersfoort and through the company she had heard everything about us and came as soon as she could with all her love and generosity to see whether she could do something for us. My mother offered her tea and said that she was very glad with the dinner service but that everything was allright and that we had all we needed. After tea my dearest new aunt Truus said, maybe Dinkie would like to come and play at our place with Marijke and Noortje, she will be most welcome. So I will see you this afternoon, that is agreed then and before my mother could say one word, she went. My heart was in my throat from joy and nothing could keep me from going, the appointment was already made, so even my mother couldn’t stop me. In the afternoon I went there, full of expectations. Finally, I found the Paulus Buyslaan and stood in front of the most adorable house you can imagine with a thatched roof. The door was opened and there I was once and for all taken in by that loving warm family. From that time on I was there almost every day playing with Marijke and Noortje and enjoying it very much. They were very dear sisters to me. My heart longed for this cozy, gay and warm family. There also was uncle Gerard, the father of the family a very kind man, who liked playing the violin and when he did, we all sang along.
There also was Juffie, who helped aunt Truus running the house. I will never forget the big table where we all sat and had dinner and where before dinner a prayer was always said by one of the children. Marijke especially was very good at it. Noortje sometimes forgot something.
Will be continued.
Dinkie
maandag 14 februari 2011
REUNION WITH MY FATHER.
REUNION WITH MY FATHER
August 15, 1946. We were liberated, fittingly it is now August 18, 2007. Freedom, that you had thought, but now the Javanese wanted their freedom and went to war against us, their white invaders. In the meantime, we received postcards from my father through the Red Cross saying: stay where you are, I am coming to you. After a lot of trouble from attacking Javanese and after much wandering we finally arrived un scathed in Batavia. There my mother got a message from the Red Cross that my father, on his way to us, was picked up by the Indonesians rebels and they ended saying the final words: he is missing, presumably dead.
So my mother, as a widow, could go to Holland with us. On the ship the Klipfontein, which much later broke down on a clif, very appropriate as the name suggests. On this, for us wonderful ship, my mother withdraw herself with two nuns in a cabin, because she was an asthma patient.
On the entire trip, until we reached Attaca in Egypt, we had not seen or spoken to her. My brother and I wandered on the deck and enjoyed the lovely sea air and all the food we got and nobody paying attention to us. We ate a lot of mandarins and drank lots of coca cola. We didn’t wash ourselves, we weren’t used to do so anyway and slept outside near the ship’s chimney. Eventually the captain, who heard that there were two children wandering about the ship with nobody taking care of them, finally decided to appoint a guardian, who would take care of us. I came under the care of Dr. Provo Knuit, a retired cabin phycisian. I had a perfect life, he was very severe, bathed in sea water, pimples were cut open and still he was also very sweet to me giving me lots of good food and vitamins learning me to excercise. He was my first substitute father after 5 years and I was very happy with him. Once a week he drank too much and then I had to help him getting in bed instead of him helping me, but mostly he was a super good real father figure. Upon arrival in Holland in Amsterdam I sadly had to say goodbye to him and he gave me two wooden bookends in the form of horseheads. I cried a lot, all of a sudden I was fatherless again. In Amersfoort my mother placed us in the care of a couple of families who were complete strangers to us, I was then a girl of 13 years old. She went to live on her own. On Saturday and Sunday we were allowed to visit here for an hour. In this strange country for me, it was April 1947, I almost died from cold in the house of mrs. Ijf and her four children, who were not very nice to me and were always teasing me.They thought I was very odd, that yellow concentration camp child with strange manners and all those strange Indonesian words, such as pisang for banana and ketimoen for cucumber, etc. You can’t believe how lonely I felt. One day I wanted to visit my brother, I rang the bell and a servant opened the door of the house he was living in and she told me that my brother, for health reasons, had been brought to the country side to get better and stronger. I thought, it cannot get worse or could it? Blindness maybe, so I started walking on the street with my eyes closed, because I thought that it might even be like this, so it really wasn’t so bad after all, luckily I am not blind. After many bumps of many lampposts and scraped knees, I realized that my fate wasn’t so bad. I decided to take matters in my own hand and to look for someone who wanted to adopt me as their child. Sooner said, then done. Every day on my way to and from school I passed many beautiful houses. One of them was my favourite, there an old lady lived with a white dog, which she often took out walking when I passed. That was it. I started talking to her and later I took the dog out walking for her and sometime later I was drinking tea with her, it resulted in me going there a lot. One day I asked her whether she wanted to adopt me. She was stunned and after a lot of talking and begging from my side (the house inside was even more attractive than from the outside, it was very cozy and beautiful), she called my mother and told her about my wish to be adopted. Luckily she turned out to be a retired lady-in-waiting of Queen Wilhelmina and so the damage for me was limited. My mother went to visit her and explained everything to her from her perspective. I have shed many tears for this lovely dear woman, where I, unfortunately, was not allowed to live. I was desperate.
At that moment, the cosmos thought it was enough and the message came that my own father was found and was on a ship on his way to Holland. The day that he came back to us, I will never ever forget. My brother and I were bathed and dressed in our best clothes to visit my mother and wait for him, my father, after 6 years. It lasted and lasted and finally we went out to playing. The Jan Huigensstraat in Amersfoort was on a small hill and there in the distance I saw a white Van coming. I ran down the hill and the Van stopped next to me and a man got out with a very kind brown face and asked me the way to the Jan Huigensstraat. I showed him and the Van drove on and then it hit me: That is my father! God, I was so happy, I had a real father. I ran to my mother’s house and walked up the path. Dad, I shouted, Dad, it is me Dinkie. He turned around and took me in his arms. I was incredibly happy, he was back now everything would be all right. My brother and I cried and so did he. When we had to leave after diner, he was speechless and thought that was terrible and he promised us that he would arrange everything as soon as possible and that is what he did.
Two months later we, all four of us, were together living in an apartment in the Bergstraat in Amersfoort opposite the cemetary. Nobody could understand how happy I was. My mother, when she was old, became a great grandmother to her grandchildren. As a 7 year old child she had to go to boarding school because her mother, who had TBC, had to go to a sanitorium for a couple of years. Living with the nuns hadn’t been fun for her either.
Dinkie
August 15, 1946. We were liberated, fittingly it is now August 18, 2007. Freedom, that you had thought, but now the Javanese wanted their freedom and went to war against us, their white invaders. In the meantime, we received postcards from my father through the Red Cross saying: stay where you are, I am coming to you. After a lot of trouble from attacking Javanese and after much wandering we finally arrived un scathed in Batavia. There my mother got a message from the Red Cross that my father, on his way to us, was picked up by the Indonesians rebels and they ended saying the final words: he is missing, presumably dead.
So my mother, as a widow, could go to Holland with us. On the ship the Klipfontein, which much later broke down on a clif, very appropriate as the name suggests. On this, for us wonderful ship, my mother withdraw herself with two nuns in a cabin, because she was an asthma patient.
On the entire trip, until we reached Attaca in Egypt, we had not seen or spoken to her. My brother and I wandered on the deck and enjoyed the lovely sea air and all the food we got and nobody paying attention to us. We ate a lot of mandarins and drank lots of coca cola. We didn’t wash ourselves, we weren’t used to do so anyway and slept outside near the ship’s chimney. Eventually the captain, who heard that there were two children wandering about the ship with nobody taking care of them, finally decided to appoint a guardian, who would take care of us. I came under the care of Dr. Provo Knuit, a retired cabin phycisian. I had a perfect life, he was very severe, bathed in sea water, pimples were cut open and still he was also very sweet to me giving me lots of good food and vitamins learning me to excercise. He was my first substitute father after 5 years and I was very happy with him. Once a week he drank too much and then I had to help him getting in bed instead of him helping me, but mostly he was a super good real father figure. Upon arrival in Holland in Amsterdam I sadly had to say goodbye to him and he gave me two wooden bookends in the form of horseheads. I cried a lot, all of a sudden I was fatherless again. In Amersfoort my mother placed us in the care of a couple of families who were complete strangers to us, I was then a girl of 13 years old. She went to live on her own. On Saturday and Sunday we were allowed to visit here for an hour. In this strange country for me, it was April 1947, I almost died from cold in the house of mrs. Ijf and her four children, who were not very nice to me and were always teasing me.They thought I was very odd, that yellow concentration camp child with strange manners and all those strange Indonesian words, such as pisang for banana and ketimoen for cucumber, etc. You can’t believe how lonely I felt. One day I wanted to visit my brother, I rang the bell and a servant opened the door of the house he was living in and she told me that my brother, for health reasons, had been brought to the country side to get better and stronger. I thought, it cannot get worse or could it? Blindness maybe, so I started walking on the street with my eyes closed, because I thought that it might even be like this, so it really wasn’t so bad after all, luckily I am not blind. After many bumps of many lampposts and scraped knees, I realized that my fate wasn’t so bad. I decided to take matters in my own hand and to look for someone who wanted to adopt me as their child. Sooner said, then done. Every day on my way to and from school I passed many beautiful houses. One of them was my favourite, there an old lady lived with a white dog, which she often took out walking when I passed. That was it. I started talking to her and later I took the dog out walking for her and sometime later I was drinking tea with her, it resulted in me going there a lot. One day I asked her whether she wanted to adopt me. She was stunned and after a lot of talking and begging from my side (the house inside was even more attractive than from the outside, it was very cozy and beautiful), she called my mother and told her about my wish to be adopted. Luckily she turned out to be a retired lady-in-waiting of Queen Wilhelmina and so the damage for me was limited. My mother went to visit her and explained everything to her from her perspective. I have shed many tears for this lovely dear woman, where I, unfortunately, was not allowed to live. I was desperate.
At that moment, the cosmos thought it was enough and the message came that my own father was found and was on a ship on his way to Holland. The day that he came back to us, I will never ever forget. My brother and I were bathed and dressed in our best clothes to visit my mother and wait for him, my father, after 6 years. It lasted and lasted and finally we went out to playing. The Jan Huigensstraat in Amersfoort was on a small hill and there in the distance I saw a white Van coming. I ran down the hill and the Van stopped next to me and a man got out with a very kind brown face and asked me the way to the Jan Huigensstraat. I showed him and the Van drove on and then it hit me: That is my father! God, I was so happy, I had a real father. I ran to my mother’s house and walked up the path. Dad, I shouted, Dad, it is me Dinkie. He turned around and took me in his arms. I was incredibly happy, he was back now everything would be all right. My brother and I cried and so did he. When we had to leave after diner, he was speechless and thought that was terrible and he promised us that he would arrange everything as soon as possible and that is what he did.
Two months later we, all four of us, were together living in an apartment in the Bergstraat in Amersfoort opposite the cemetary. Nobody could understand how happy I was. My mother, when she was old, became a great grandmother to her grandchildren. As a 7 year old child she had to go to boarding school because her mother, who had TBC, had to go to a sanitorium for a couple of years. Living with the nuns hadn’t been fun for her either.
Dinkie
An Older Message About A Holiday
AN OLDER MESSAGE ABOUT A HOLIDAY
For the first time after 40 years we went on holiday with a caravan again. Quite an experience for a 72 year old. Small beds with hard mattresses and a different lavatory without flush. For someone with my size in such a small space is a perfect workout for all muscles but it is also very convenient to have everything within reach. A period full of rest.
We have seen a lot of our oldest daughter as we were close by in our caravan. Her husband had to travel a lot so we spent a lot of time outside in her beautiful garden. We enjoyed the beautiful surroundings of Appelscha. One day we went to Germany. The houses overthere were extremely cheap but beautiful and large. We promptly got lost and didn’t see a soul for hours. With a compass we drove to the West and finally we saw a sign with Ter Apel on it. We were glad to be back in Holland again, an area we knew. We went to a wonderful restaurant where we ate “zweinenhaxe” for the first time. The meat was so soft and tender it fell of the bone, but it was too much meat and we unfortunately were both ill of too much.
We were homesick and wanted to see our grandchildren in Zeeland, but as soon as we are there, we long for our daughter in Appelscha, it’s dualistic.
The trip home was long and it was very hot, 32 degrees in the car, no airco and a lot of traffic. I sometimes wonder what will become of all this traffic in this country in the future.
Coming home I immediately took care of David, our grandson, who was walking down the street with a friend to a very dangerous corner in the street with a heated head. I took them both inside, cooled their head with cold water and gave them lots of water to drink.
David asked: grandma, did you miss me and do you love me? I respondend: yes, my dear boy, I do and I hugged him. I love those children so much, it sometimes hurt. Then his mother, Inge came and took him home.
Our garden was in full bloom and very beautiful. We enjoyed having our own things again, the films, our computers, the normal lavatory and our music.
Missing it is good for increasing the value of all your property and richness. I hope to enjoy it for a long long time. Until the next holiday.
Dinkie
For the first time after 40 years we went on holiday with a caravan again. Quite an experience for a 72 year old. Small beds with hard mattresses and a different lavatory without flush. For someone with my size in such a small space is a perfect workout for all muscles but it is also very convenient to have everything within reach. A period full of rest.
We have seen a lot of our oldest daughter as we were close by in our caravan. Her husband had to travel a lot so we spent a lot of time outside in her beautiful garden. We enjoyed the beautiful surroundings of Appelscha. One day we went to Germany. The houses overthere were extremely cheap but beautiful and large. We promptly got lost and didn’t see a soul for hours. With a compass we drove to the West and finally we saw a sign with Ter Apel on it. We were glad to be back in Holland again, an area we knew. We went to a wonderful restaurant where we ate “zweinenhaxe” for the first time. The meat was so soft and tender it fell of the bone, but it was too much meat and we unfortunately were both ill of too much.
We were homesick and wanted to see our grandchildren in Zeeland, but as soon as we are there, we long for our daughter in Appelscha, it’s dualistic.
The trip home was long and it was very hot, 32 degrees in the car, no airco and a lot of traffic. I sometimes wonder what will become of all this traffic in this country in the future.
Coming home I immediately took care of David, our grandson, who was walking down the street with a friend to a very dangerous corner in the street with a heated head. I took them both inside, cooled their head with cold water and gave them lots of water to drink.
David asked: grandma, did you miss me and do you love me? I respondend: yes, my dear boy, I do and I hugged him. I love those children so much, it sometimes hurt. Then his mother, Inge came and took him home.
Our garden was in full bloom and very beautiful. We enjoyed having our own things again, the films, our computers, the normal lavatory and our music.
Missing it is good for increasing the value of all your property and richness. I hope to enjoy it for a long long time. Until the next holiday.
Dinkie
Miracles do Exist.
MIRACLES EXIST
Everyone of us experiences sometimes something miraculous. When I think of it, I have experienced at least five big and small miracles. Of three of them I want to tell you something. The first small miracle, which I still cannot believe myself, it is so extraordinary. After my divorce I started working as a help for the elderly with a former attorney of Unilever, who had an Brittish wife. This woman, who also was very demented and only spoke English, therefore I was placed there. Because of my Scottish grandmother Elsie, we spoke English pretty good since our childhood. The brittish lady, she was a lovely woman, which couldn’t be said of him. She had a colostomy, which sometimes leaked and it was a terrible dirty job to clean everything afterwards. I have worked very hard for them and did a lot of extra things, such as painting the kitchen and the bathroom, etc. When I left them, because she went to a nursery home, they gave me, as a thank you present, a real antique from 1880 carbonite lamp with a beautiful white porcelain shade. The shade fitted perfect on an iron ring and was flat on the top and then rounded down at the bottom with a slot around it for a beaded chain at the edge. It really was a very exclusive shade, which I’ve never seen before. For years it stood in our house as a beautiful piece of antiquity and I often thought about the woman. One day during a renovation the lamp was moved and the white porcelain shade fell off into thousand pieces. I was very sad, because such a shade couldn’t ever be replaced. Years later, living here in Zeeland, there was a big dump near Zierikzee, where everything was shoved on a small mountain.
Every year there are flea markets, where everyone who has something to sell tries to sell it to the tourists. At 5 o’clock everthing that wasn’t sold, went into a garbage truck to the dump. The stuff coming from various places of our island. The hill at the dump was almost 7 meters high with chairs, tables, washing machines, hair dryers, cabinets, pottery, toys, plastic, and more. On the same day that this takes place we went to the dump with our trailer at about 6 o'clock. I looked in amazement at the huge mountain, where already 10 people were searching for nice goodies. Willem threw all the things we had in our trailer, also on te mountain and I crept cautiously on the mountain lurking to find something. It certainly wasn’t the first time that we went back with a half-full trailer again. Willem cried: don’t take more stuff, please. All the other people cried: everything is broken already, what are you looking for? Nothing really, I am just looking, I cried back. You had to be carefull because tables and chairs were all over each other and before you knew it you dropped right down or half way the mountain. I looked between everything to see whether I would find something nice in between all the rubble, but it was so full of stuff you could hardly see anything. Than suddenly there below in a hole next to a drying rack between 3 chairs, I saw something white. I cried: I see something of porcelain, on which most of the people started to laugh and said that will certainly be broken. Very carefully I dove down with my arm and pulled it very careful, pushing things away, out of the darkness. I thought it to be a round bowl. When I got it up with difficulty, it turned out to be a beautiful flawless porcelain shade of a lamp. I shouted: Willem, come, please come. Others came as well and they all shouted: Willem come, it is a miracle, it is completely flawless. Consternation all over. Everyone wanted to see it, they couldn’t believe it, dumped out of the garbage van and still unbroken, a miracle. The biggest miracle had still to come when we were at home again. It fitted perfectly on the carbonite lamp and even had the same slot for the beaded chain.
Dinkie
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Everyone of us experiences sometimes something miraculous. When I think of it, I have experienced at least five big and small miracles. Of three of them I want to tell you something. The first small miracle, which I still cannot believe myself, it is so extraordinary. After my divorce I started working as a help for the elderly with a former attorney of Unilever, who had an Brittish wife. This woman, who also was very demented and only spoke English, therefore I was placed there. Because of my Scottish grandmother Elsie, we spoke English pretty good since our childhood. The brittish lady, she was a lovely woman, which couldn’t be said of him. She had a colostomy, which sometimes leaked and it was a terrible dirty job to clean everything afterwards. I have worked very hard for them and did a lot of extra things, such as painting the kitchen and the bathroom, etc. When I left them, because she went to a nursery home, they gave me, as a thank you present, a real antique from 1880 carbonite lamp with a beautiful white porcelain shade. The shade fitted perfect on an iron ring and was flat on the top and then rounded down at the bottom with a slot around it for a beaded chain at the edge. It really was a very exclusive shade, which I’ve never seen before. For years it stood in our house as a beautiful piece of antiquity and I often thought about the woman. One day during a renovation the lamp was moved and the white porcelain shade fell off into thousand pieces. I was very sad, because such a shade couldn’t ever be replaced. Years later, living here in Zeeland, there was a big dump near Zierikzee, where everything was shoved on a small mountain.
Every year there are flea markets, where everyone who has something to sell tries to sell it to the tourists. At 5 o’clock everthing that wasn’t sold, went into a garbage truck to the dump. The stuff coming from various places of our island. The hill at the dump was almost 7 meters high with chairs, tables, washing machines, hair dryers, cabinets, pottery, toys, plastic, and more. On the same day that this takes place we went to the dump with our trailer at about 6 o'clock. I looked in amazement at the huge mountain, where already 10 people were searching for nice goodies. Willem threw all the things we had in our trailer, also on te mountain and I crept cautiously on the mountain lurking to find something. It certainly wasn’t the first time that we went back with a half-full trailer again. Willem cried: don’t take more stuff, please. All the other people cried: everything is broken already, what are you looking for? Nothing really, I am just looking, I cried back. You had to be carefull because tables and chairs were all over each other and before you knew it you dropped right down or half way the mountain. I looked between everything to see whether I would find something nice in between all the rubble, but it was so full of stuff you could hardly see anything. Than suddenly there below in a hole next to a drying rack between 3 chairs, I saw something white. I cried: I see something of porcelain, on which most of the people started to laugh and said that will certainly be broken. Very carefully I dove down with my arm and pulled it very careful, pushing things away, out of the darkness. I thought it to be a round bowl. When I got it up with difficulty, it turned out to be a beautiful flawless porcelain shade of a lamp. I shouted: Willem, come, please come. Others came as well and they all shouted: Willem come, it is a miracle, it is completely flawless. Consternation all over. Everyone wanted to see it, they couldn’t believe it, dumped out of the garbage van and still unbroken, a miracle. The biggest miracle had still to come when we were at home again. It fitted perfectly on the carbonite lamp and even had the same slot for the beaded chain.
Dinkie
Saturday, August 18, 2007
All About Music Again
ALL ABOUT MUSIC AGAIN
It belongs to the Dutch culture that you are crazy about classical music. My mother and her brother Dennis both had piano lessons for 8 years. Dennis even went to the conservatory. Both played piano constantly. My younger years were filled with classical music, it was all my brother and I heard. Dennis sometimes gave concerts for the whole street on our porch in our house in the Dutch East Indies. Our first contact with other types of music was aboard the troopship, the Amhurst Victory. After the surrender and during the attacks of the Indonesian rebels, we went on board of this ship from Samarang to Batavia (Jakarta).
Songs like: Don’t fence me in and Give me five minutes more, all those war songs sang by the English we thought were great. Like Vera Lynn, it brought a new world to me, one that was cheerful and witty and had something to do with being free and finally shaking all the worries from your body and having fun again and live again. Since that time we got to know the music of Glen Miller, Benny Goodman, Gene Krupa, Xavier Gugat and many others.
In camp Tjideng in Batavia, where we waited for transport to Holland, we went every week to the open air cinema at the camp, seeing movies with Diana Durbin, Shirley Tempel and many other famous stars. We also listened to upbeat music and after the sadness around us, this was a very uplifting experience.
In our teens we also swoon to the music and dancing close together. At that time you went to dance class and you were taught ballroom dancing like the foxtrot, the waltz, the chachacha, the tango, etc. Kuipers was the biggest dance club, which yearly gave a grand ball at the Kurhaus in Scheveningen with three different bands. We went there in pretty party dresses with pettycoats and high heels. Scheveningen was our entertainment center, the club of Pia Beck, dixiland bands and more. When I got a boyfriend, who was a naval cadet there were even more parties and balls also in Nijenrode. It was a great time with music of Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole, Errol Garner, Frank Sinatra and many more. Then came the time with real jazz, after that the blues, rock and roll, etc.
At the Rijnland high school, we also had a grand ball at the end of every school year, girls wearing evening dresses and the boys wearing tuxedo’s.
Peter Schilperoort and his band (the Dutch Swing College Band) played there as were many others. At school there also were some boys who could play the boogie woogie very well.
Now about 55 years later, when everything is almost over, we find on the computer on You-tube this music and with this music all our memories of those wonderful 8 years are coming back. Lovely memories of great music, which I cherish.
A lot has happened in those 55 years, think of all these new currents of great bands, the Beatles, Elvis, Joe Cocker, The Rolling Stones, Woodstock, Queen, Motown, Soul, Andy Williams, Tom Jones and many more. The whole range of new movements erupted also in films and the musical of Mash and Hair, too much to mention. All these happy developments made me a real music lover of all types of music that crossed my life these 55 years and left me with many wonderful memories.
Fortunately there is a new range of young talent now like Norah Jones, Katie Meluah, Peter Cincottie, Michael Buble, Madeleine Peroux and Dianne Krall. We can still enjoy this all as well as the classical music and that is what we do with heart and soul.
Dinkie
It belongs to the Dutch culture that you are crazy about classical music. My mother and her brother Dennis both had piano lessons for 8 years. Dennis even went to the conservatory. Both played piano constantly. My younger years were filled with classical music, it was all my brother and I heard. Dennis sometimes gave concerts for the whole street on our porch in our house in the Dutch East Indies. Our first contact with other types of music was aboard the troopship, the Amhurst Victory. After the surrender and during the attacks of the Indonesian rebels, we went on board of this ship from Samarang to Batavia (Jakarta).
Songs like: Don’t fence me in and Give me five minutes more, all those war songs sang by the English we thought were great. Like Vera Lynn, it brought a new world to me, one that was cheerful and witty and had something to do with being free and finally shaking all the worries from your body and having fun again and live again. Since that time we got to know the music of Glen Miller, Benny Goodman, Gene Krupa, Xavier Gugat and many others.
In camp Tjideng in Batavia, where we waited for transport to Holland, we went every week to the open air cinema at the camp, seeing movies with Diana Durbin, Shirley Tempel and many other famous stars. We also listened to upbeat music and after the sadness around us, this was a very uplifting experience.
In our teens we also swoon to the music and dancing close together. At that time you went to dance class and you were taught ballroom dancing like the foxtrot, the waltz, the chachacha, the tango, etc. Kuipers was the biggest dance club, which yearly gave a grand ball at the Kurhaus in Scheveningen with three different bands. We went there in pretty party dresses with pettycoats and high heels. Scheveningen was our entertainment center, the club of Pia Beck, dixiland bands and more. When I got a boyfriend, who was a naval cadet there were even more parties and balls also in Nijenrode. It was a great time with music of Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole, Errol Garner, Frank Sinatra and many more. Then came the time with real jazz, after that the blues, rock and roll, etc.
At the Rijnland high school, we also had a grand ball at the end of every school year, girls wearing evening dresses and the boys wearing tuxedo’s.
Peter Schilperoort and his band (the Dutch Swing College Band) played there as were many others. At school there also were some boys who could play the boogie woogie very well.
Now about 55 years later, when everything is almost over, we find on the computer on You-tube this music and with this music all our memories of those wonderful 8 years are coming back. Lovely memories of great music, which I cherish.
A lot has happened in those 55 years, think of all these new currents of great bands, the Beatles, Elvis, Joe Cocker, The Rolling Stones, Woodstock, Queen, Motown, Soul, Andy Williams, Tom Jones and many more. The whole range of new movements erupted also in films and the musical of Mash and Hair, too much to mention. All these happy developments made me a real music lover of all types of music that crossed my life these 55 years and left me with many wonderful memories.
Fortunately there is a new range of young talent now like Norah Jones, Katie Meluah, Peter Cincottie, Michael Buble, Madeleine Peroux and Dianne Krall. We can still enjoy this all as well as the classical music and that is what we do with heart and soul.
Dinkie
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