Living in barracks for the first time in my life.

LIVING IN BARRACKS FOR THE FIRST TIME

Magnificent Indonesia, 1941. Our beautiful house with two servants (baboe’s in Indonesian), a butler (djongos in Indonesian) and a gardener. A wonderful pavillion for guests. We always had guests and every Saturday my parents, formally dressed, went to the Simpang club to dance and have dinner with friends. When they were out one of the baboe’s took care of us, slept on a doormat next to my bed untill my parents came back late at night. We made many trips into the mountains, where we regularly rented a house with swimmingpool. We loved it there, enjoyed that beautiful scenery, horseback riding, swimming and the delicious indonesian food. My grandmother often came with us, as well as the rest of the family. True extravagant times.
Then the war started and everything finished. It became a time of anxiety and fear. One day after many months, we had to leave everything behind and were interned in camps. With some luggage on our backs and a small suitcase, as much as we could carry, we travelled through Java in closed freight wagons driving through the heat, with a lot of women and children, no toilets for hours, sometimes standing still on platforms, with no water or food, fainting children and adults. Sometimes we had to walk for miles, tired completely exhausted, until we once again came to a monastry, where we were greeted lovingly and were offered food and drinks. We slept all together on mattresses on the floor in corridors and rooms. Not knowing where the journey would bring us and when it would be finished. One day we arrived completely worn out in Solo in a huge empty insane asylum. In those times they were very different then they are nowadays. They were places of hell, full of high fences and many large bathrooms and dark hallways, cold and very scary. There we were put in a chapel with mattresses on the floor. The shock was enormous. Amazed and deadly tired we looked around us, seeing all those women and children, listening to all the noises, the moaning, crying, arguing and yelling.
We spent hours in queue to get some food, to wash and use the lavatory. No own room, no own house, utterly bewildered with a half sick mother and a grandmother, who was also desperate. My brother and I were taken to the hospital department in the asylum with severe diarrhea. After three days I noticed that my brother, also ill from homesickness for my mother, became worse instead of better. His fever became worse by the day. At night I dragged him out of bed and with my hand over his mouth and with our pillows we crept back to the Chapel. There he became better.
Reports emerged that the new parts of this large camp were being opened and that we were going into the new barracks. What is a barrack? One day a piece of the wall, serving as a fence of the asylum, was taken down and we saw a large camp with huge barracks, a lot of barracks with big spaces between them. Each barrack existed of two rows with beds with in the middle a line for luggage. There were also a shower and two toilets. In one barrack were about 80 women and children. There we were sitting on our cots, looking around us, thinking that this was home now, 45 inches of space, with women and children everywhere. Hours I sat there looking around in amazement. The first days I was too bewildered to be able to sleep. You saw everything of everyone, nothing remained a secret anymore. Mothers who hitted and children who were annoying and spoiled. There was so much to see and experience, standing in line everywhere, going to the lavatory in time because there was always a queue.
All those things happening around you was at the same time also thrilling.
Playing outside was limited, too many women walking around with laundry and wash tubs with dishes and everywhere hung clothes to dry. At night you heard people coughing, moaning, talking and also angry people, sometimes so angry that bibles were thrown back and forth, others tried to keep peace and drew up rules that were ignored. It took weeks before it slowly became calmer and more peaceful, also because everyone got dazed by lack of food and sleep.
Women and children were ill and slowly the misery penetrated in everyone’s mind. You could die here. We only had one female doctor, doctor Engels. Drugs were hardly available. Slowly it became quieter and more peaceful. After several months it was almost nice. Women started making cookery books and others learned children to embroider. In that camp I made many embroidered handkerchiefs and made clothes for the only doll I had. Everyone was sourceful and so life became a little easier. But the first weeks of that bizarre life in the barracks, I will never forget.
Dinkie