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
dinsdag 26 april 2011
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
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