Echoes of Imperialism.

THE YEAR 2602

It started to dawn and Koki climbed up the tall trunk of a coconut palm. Koki

hugged the trunk with his arms and, planting his bare feet squarely against the

trunk, took small steps upward, his knees bent outward . Then he pushed his

arms up higher, took more steps, and so moved up the palm as gracefully and

easily as a squirrel. When he reached the crown and the thick cluster of nuts,

he picked one, and held it in his hand looking at the luscious jungles covered in

different shades of green. Flowers like honeysuckle were fragrant in the air,

attracting butterflies and birds.

Koki waited for the sounds of the vendors calling out as they walked along the

gravel road, advertising their produce and wares. The natives would come

down from the mountains, and they would sing out in their native language

“Vegetables!” “Fresh Fruit!” and “Flowers! Beautiful Flowers!" Koki would

call them over, and they would come and squat beside him and bargain with

him over star fruit, papayas, and mangoes.

Koki loved to buy the sweet smelling carnations, lilies, and sunflowers for

mother. Koki was straining his ears for any little noise that could tell him what

was happening when he became aware of something else. It was a way off, in

the distance, like the humming of bees. A soft drone that became louder as it

neared, until an earsplitting roar overhead made him drop the coconut and

bolted out of the palm tree, abandoning his wicker basket.

“Nippon! Nippon! Floating in parachutes. They are here!” Koki gasped.

Then total and utter silence. The silence was more frightening than the roar of

the plane.

Timidly, still shaking with fright, Koki looked over his shoulder. Not a soul, not

a dog, not a bird, was to be seen. Koki glanced at the house with its pond in

front of the house and the two proud banyan trees, across the road. All the

windows were tightly closed and shut. Running all the way around the house

was a big veranda were tea was served in the afternoons, overlooking the

lawns that rolled down to the wide, muddy river. There was always something

happening on the Siak river. On most days it was only the sampans, floating

lazily by on the way to market, loaded with fish or fruit or vegetables. Events

of tribal families filled the river with hundreds of boats of all sizes festooned

with bright ribbons and flags and paper lanterns. People dressed up in

wondrous costumes with enormous masks pulled over heads, danced and

somersaulted with boundless energy.

Stilt-walkers strode audaciously from one teetering boat onto the next, while

dressed-up monkeys performed clever tricks balance on long poles.

Grandfather watched from the veranda as the afternoon waned. The teeming

life on the river disturbed Grandfather, and he often scanned the river up and

down, speaking in a worried voice about “them” the Japs, possibly coming up

the river in boats. “They could sneak up the back way before I would even

know they were there,” Grandfather whispered.

Koki knew that there would be no more celebrations, singing, or wonderful

fragrances to enjoy. The tropical sky that once displayed sunsets framed by

the tropical jungle and ocean below was now a source of fear.

“Master, the Japs are here. Not by sneaking up the back way but bearing

a red circle, a red ball strutting the sky,” Koki thought.

Koki sprinted from Pekanbaru feeling hopeless fearing the plan the Japs had

for the whites. Traveling through the rain forest, rice paddies, and on a

mountain slope a striking snow-white tiger stood calmly in a pose. Koki

showed no emotion and became like an eagle in wait. Koki heard of the

mystical snow-white tiger possessed with keen channeling powers.

“You are the tiger spirit who looks after the forests, walks through fragile

woods where pale moonlight orchids flourish.” Koki stroked the feathery

tendrils that hung down from the kapok trees and breathed in the heady

fragrances of the honeysuckle vines and lily-of -the-valley flowers.

“Master, the snow-white spirit where pale moonlight orchids flourish will

protect you.” Koki gracefully bowed to the sleeping tiger, and covered his

body with wet-ripped elephant ears and walked briskly the marked banyan

tree trail to his village

---------------------

Grandfather closed the veranda with large sheets of wood. He had no longer

had tea out there. Even the windows on the house were boarded up. No

sunlight filtered in around the boards. The house became so dark and dismal

that we were forced to keep candles on all day.

The hovering, rapping and tapping of helicopters made Grandfather rush down into the

cellar.

Mother would throw herself to the floor and bite on a piece of rubber cut out

from a mat.

“Leny, drop and bite,” Grandfather yelled. The cellar turned into an air-raid

shelter. It smelled disgustingly dank and musty. An enormous heavy wooden

structure, much like a kitchen table, had been constructed. On top large

mattresses lay side by side, and from hooks screwed into the sides of the

table, gas masks dangled. On top of an oak table stood huge bottles of

drinking water, tins of condensed milk, spam, sardines, tins of string beans, red

beans, peas, and jars of crackers, biscuits, and chocolate bars. A change of

clothing and assorted books of poetry, literature, philosophy, psychology, and

teaching material. There were candles and flashlights, matches, and first-aid

boxes. One small radio would keep us informed of what was happening in the

outside world. In a corner, behind a screen, stood a bucket with a lid. This

was the toilet.

Grandfather was aware of new and unusual happenings in the neighborhood.

Houses were boarded up; friends suddenly packed all their belongings and

left. Occasionally, they simply disappeared overnight. The heat of the day

made us all listless and drowsy, as though the world itself slowed and stopped

for a few hours. Grandfather replaced Koki with a former plantation worker,

a native, to run errands in town. Grandfather wished Koki well and spread a

warm note of good fortune which eventually trickled down. It was no longer

safe for whites to leave the house.

The Javanese young woman dressed in a colorful sarong, with tiny jewels in

her nose. On her slender brown arms, she wore thin brightly colored glass

bangles interspersed with silver ones, which tinkled melodically as they fell

together. Her pleasant smile and stylish native appearance won the wishes that

she provided us with the possible meals.

She lied about her servitude at the tea and rice plantation and dreadful

communal living conditions sharing mattresses and fighting over mosquito nets.

A workday usually started around six a.m. and finished by noon, when

everyone went home for a nap except those who didn’t make their daily

quota. Under the hot, tropical climate, the picker had to combat high humidity.

At the end of the day the pickers were crammed in a bungalow. Grandfather

lived in a rich lifestyle. Servants were cheap; however, resentment was

growing among the native people against the outsiders who were taking over

their country, and now, their people.

Grandfather was born in the Dutch East Indies, and inherited the plantation

from his aristocratic father. Great grandfather boasted that the Dutch made the

country civilized, brought law and order to the islands restoring kampong

conflicts. Grandmother passed from malaria leaving the responsibility of raising

her to the Baboe, the Koki, and the head servant.

When mother was twelve, Grandfather took her to the tea plantation. She hid

between the rows of bushes, watching the nimble fingers of the tea pickers as

they plucked the tender leaves and threw them in the tall baskets on their

backs. These baskets were suspended by a single leather strap that the

women looped around the top of their heads. Together they would team up,

sing songs in their native language about the flourishing of exotic and lush

scenery of palm trees, hibiscus, and bougainvillea vines.

A week later, Mother watched the coolies on the rice plantation lined up in the

paddy fields and large terraces of water in which they had to stand in all day

long, bent over to the plant the tender rice shoots. Carved out of a tree truck a

high-rise

office rested on stilts to watch the women at work, and whoever was out of

line and not bending suffered an infraction, and each infraction had to be

reported to Grandfather by the head field man. Mother was saddened by that

they had to stand in all day long, bent over the rice shoots, and she would

often visit the plantation. Ladies would rise and exercise their backs when they

saw Mother climbing the tree that led to the head field man’s office. She would

distract the guard, asking him to teach her the native alphabet and perform

magic tricks. She would bring native puppets on a string, and the head field

man pulled the strings for the puppets to do their magical dance.

The only servant who received fair pay was the head servant. Dressed in a

white sari and jacket with a white turban on his head, he stood in an

respectable distance from the table and listened to every word Grandfather

dictated. The head servant would be responsible to carry out Grandfather's

wishes for the day. Mother was not allowed to mingle with the servants, and

faced punishment if she played with the servant’s children.

One day, Mother mingled with the servants. She slipped away from her

servant through the door that led into the kitchen area. The kitchen was

equipped with a wood- burning range, and also the laundry room, where the

clothes were washed by hand. Right inside the door, as Mother peeked in,

stood the table where the silver was polished weekly. Picture frames, platters,

and serving dishes. Teapots, milk jugs, and a sugar bowl.

Not to mention all the little teaspoons and assorted cutlery sets. Weekly

parties were held for distinguished guests and dignitaries of other plantation

owners and government officials. The servants would polish the silver all day

long, and when they saw Mother their faces would light like a bright light bulb.

“Want to see magic?” they said, grinning.

“Yes,” said Mother, smiling.

They would take their dishcloths and place them over their laps, chanting and

murmuring magic words. Moving their hands up and down under the cloths,

they grinned and winked to each other. Mother was completely under their

spell. A few more minutes for effect and then, presto! Out popped a baby

bunny from one of the cloths. Mother would clap her hands, hop with the

bunny, laughing and playing with the servants.

Every morning Grandfather dressed for the tropical climate in shorts, knee

socks, and a short- sleeved shirt, slicking his hair back and brushing both sides

simultaneously with a brush in each hand. The chauffeur would wait and stand

like a cement post for Grandfather and drive him to work.

After graduation from the Dutch teaching academy, Mother was hired as a

teacher for an upscale white girl's school. She taught literature and poetry.

Mother wore imported short-sleeved dresses from famous designers and had

at her disposal a set of high heeled shoes and hand-bag to compliment her

outfit. After her servant served her tea, she would help her dress, pamper her,

and brush her hair in a French twist, finger waved, or braided. Mother’s

favorite was large finger waves pasted with thick gel and layered neatly in

rows, and wrapped in the back, held by a brightly colored comb. Mother’s life

was very comfortable. She grew up with opera, and met her husband at a

classical music concert. He was an officer of the Royal Dutch Navy and

together they had a boy, Wilhelm and a girl, Ernestine.

When Holland declared war on Japan, her husband was assigned for a major

naval battle on an allied ship defending the oil refineries from the Japanese.

Mother herself was quite a

accomplished poet and novelist and learned Malay from the servants. She

would sneaked into the servants' bungalows to teach Dutch and read poetry.

The servants would entertain mother with their magic and magical stories while

her husband was battling alongside with allied forces on the Java Sea.

-------------------------

Days passed agonizingly slowly, and tensions were becoming almost

unbearable. Grandfatherstayed home all the time, and he and mother were

never far apart. Most of the neighbors were gone, taken by truck into

concentration camps. The avenue Grandfather and Mother lived onwas

deserted and quiet. The only vehicles that passed were the trucks and jeeps

used by the soldiers. They checked daily on those people still living in their

homes.

Heavy rain draped the house and pounded on the veranda. Large amount of

water spat on the boarded up windows. The monsoon gave gale force winds

and rain for days, causing road closures and impassible river crossings. When

one huge whammy king tide wreaked havoc and slammed the side of the rice

plantation, the plantation became a lake and the rice shoots floated to the

muddy river. The rain water was running through the ruts and closely by the

door. A gasp swept across the house and veranda while another king tide

spun clockwise, chopping the roof shingles into wood chips, dropping copper

flashing, dumping large amounts of water, and pitching a sound of a loud bang

which startled Grandfather and Mother out of sleep.

“The Japs are here.” Grandfather's face was very grim.

“No, Father that sound is the dumping of large amounts of water.” Mother

consoled him. It was still early morning. Screams and yells and more pounding

sent Grandfather who was half dressed, scurrying up the cellar stairs to open

the front door.

In a net pool thickly ingrained with dirt and soot stood two Japanese soldiers

with their rifles pointing straight at Grandfather.

“You hear? One hour! One case only. Don’t be late,” barked at the officer

shaking his bayonets in Grandfather's face. The officer was dressed in khaki

shirt and breeches and tall riding boots and over his shoulders draped a black

rain cape.

“Hurry. We are in charge,” screamed another soldier in Japanese at the top of

his lungs. Then the soldier swaggered back down the drive. Grandfather’s face

ashen, closed the door and went down to the cellar. Mother packed a case

with cotton shirts and shorts, toiletries, a few medical supplies, and a couple of

photos. Wilhelm clung to Grandfather's pants and followed every foot-step.

Grandfather rocked his body back and forth holding Ernestine for hours at the

time.

The Javanese woman was hastily dispatched to fetch the nuns who lived at the

end of the avenue.

“Please, go to the end of the avenue and ask the sisters to take care of Mother

and the children.” Grandfather pleaded and filled her palm with gold coins; but,

before the Javanese woman could return, the truck that took Grandfather

away from Mother and the children roared into sight..

The men in the closed truck pushed one another aside to let Grandfather in. It

was full of grim-faced men packed in like sardines, and the truck was air tight.

Grandfather wiped off his tears with a corner of his shirt.

Need men to make railroad through the jungle,." yelled a Japanese soldier

dressed in baggy shorts down to his knees and sloppy puttees over worn

combat boots. The truck made many stops and at every settlement the natives

waved paper flags with a red ball; and cheered,

“Heroes, Heroes.”

“What does that the red ball represent?” a boy asked pressing against his

father.

“The sun.” his father replied.

From houses flew flags with the rising sun. The man squeezed next to

Grandfather grinned. “I hate to see all those red ball flags.”

“Don’t look at them then,” said Grandfather crossly.

The next day the men were to ride a train. When the train finally came, the

Japanese soldiers sat in the two passenger cars while the men were pushed

into cattle vans with the doors tightly closed or onto an open tender behind the

steam locomotive. Embers of glowing coal burned holes into the towels and

smoke from the engine soon made the men look like stokers. At every train

stop, however, local vendors crowded the platform, but the soldiers would

shoo the vendors away with their bayonets, making raucous sounds.

The footsteps of the guards walking up and down sounded hollow and eerie.

“Prisoners. We are prisoners,” Grandfather cried.

Grandfather couldn’t believe for a comfortable upper-middle-class

householder so used to going about and doing as he wished to would eat from

a can opened by a bayonet.

“Terrible,” a prisoner squatted and spat out the food.

“Eat it. You eat,” said the Japanese soldier. The soldier became irritated and

slapped the man. A strayed dog from the side approached slowly from the

side and lapped up the food.

“Look! Your food is gone,” the soldier laughed and gave out a sound like a

dog’s howl. The slaps, the pointed bayonets all brought the men up short.

They shivered when the soldiers pounced their right hand into the air with out-

stretched fingers. A group of soldiers approached when the locomotive

stopped and with their razor-sharp bayonets that are razor sharp pointed to

the men and motioned them out one by one and ordered them into a perfect

line.

A ranking officer stopped and a squat little man dressed in an immaculately

pressed khaki uniform walked slowly. The uniform made him look even

rounder and shorter because of the big balloon like “wings” that stuck from his

trousers at the thighs. He wore a peaked cap that shaded his face. His knee-

high boots, polished to a shine, had hard soles that were loud and impressive

as he marched up to the men. The officer ran his left hand through his wavy jet

black hair and with his right hand placed his three-cornered hat with a wide

turned-up brim and placed it on it on his head.

“You are to obey all orders. You are to attend roll-call when called, and when

ordered.

“Kiray,” you are to bent towards Japan to the Japanese Emperor. When the

soldier calls ‘

“Nowray,” you are to stand at attention. You are to bow to every soldier as a

sign of respect. Doing so incorrectly will result in punishment. You are not

worthy to look into a soldier’s eyes,” the officer said, loudly clicking his hard

soles.

“You will be taken by trucks into a men’s camp. Anyone who is caught leaving

will be shot on sight." The officer took a bayonet from his soldier and thumped

the bottom on the ground.

Speak Malay not Dutch or English. The year is 2602, Japanese calendar. Not

1942."

yelled the officer. Facing his soldiers he ordered a roll call and had the men

bowed, and stayed in that position until he had jumped in his jeep . The men

were ordered into transport trucks and there was a total silence until they

reached Padang.

----------------------------

A young woman dressed in a uniform of grey dress, red cape, white veil, and

brown shoes knocked softly on the door.

“I am sister Catherine. The Javanese woman sent me.”

“Where is she?” asked mother whispering behind the door.

“She went home to her village.”

Mother opened the door slowly for sister Catherine and let her in the house.

The Japs took Grandfather.

‘What will happen to us?”

“The soldiers are ordered to round everyone up. First the men. Why would

the natives turn against us?" asked Mother.

“The plan is for a Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere in which there is no

room for whites. The only whites that can go free are the Germans and Swiss.

Germany is an ally of Japan and Switzerland is neutral. Mother Superior asked

me to stay with you until the soldiers take us both.”

“Grandfather wept when he heard that Japanese paratroopers landed through

dark and grey skies in Palembang. He heard the natives talk of falling angels

who are sent to liberate them. I don’t know how many oil refineries the Dutch

and English burned.

Borneo, Burma, and Singapore. The Dutch burned the oil refinery in

Palembang the same day the paratroopers landed by surprise. Oh, I am so

scared. My children.”

“Let us pray. The Javanese told me that you are a poet. Read me a poem.”

There was such a feeling of emptiness after Grandfather left that Sister

Catherine and Mother wandered around the house aimlessly. Mother was

forbidden to go into the head servant's room. Once their eyes adjusted to

the darkness, as there were no windows in this room. Mother was

disappointed to discover that all it contained was a mattress on the floor

and some pegs on the walls for his turban, sari, and jacket. A little room to

the side held a tub filled with cold water. Nearby hung the dipper for

scooping the water to pour over oneself while standing on a slatted

wooden platform outside the tub.

“I am disappointed that Grandfather would allow him to live like this. He

was our head servant.” This mattress was his bed.” said Mother guiltily.

“You loved him - didn’t you?” Sister Catherine asked sweetly.

“Yes, he raised me for years with love and magic. My life was colorful

and rich. The most magical is the mystical snow-white tiger. The days after

Grandfather's departure were spent in the gloom of the boarded-up house.

The air in the house became hot and stale as the days passed in aimless

waiting.

Sister Catherine and Mother lay around on their mattresses in the cellar.

Wilhelm nestled next to mother and Ernestine was comforted in her arms.

Sister Catherine read and re-read a children’s bible, and mother softly sang

softly verses from the bible and her poetry until Sister Catherine knew her

poetry by heart. Life was strange without Grandfather. Every evening

Mother expected him to come whistling in the front door, hugging the

children until she remembered that he was not coming home. She wondered

where he was and what he was doing.

The days became very long. Down in the cellar, we could only use the

candles. The dark days rolled into grim nights. Outside, the planes

continued to roar overhead, and from time to time mother and Sister

Catherine felt the deep rumble or shaking of the earth as a bomb dropped

else-where on the island. Wilhelm ran for cover and crawled in a fetal

position under the wooded-table, holding his hands over his face. Ernestine

slept through it all.

It was no surprise when, one sultry evening, a soldier of the Imperial

Japanese Army came shuffling up the gravel driveway. Sister Catherine

waited for him to bang on the front door. It seemed the Japs never learned

to use doorbells. He was carrying a ripped cardboard box that he handed

over to her with a smirk of his face.

“In payment for your head servant. He treated you and your father well. He

is now a free man,” said the officer.

Mother never said a word, just stared at the box. The smell alone should

have warned her. An oozing, yellow mound crawling with hundreds of

white maggots lay in the box.

It had once been cheese. The soldier then took a slip of paper from his

pocket. Sister Catherine knew it was the notice to pack up and leave. They

had two days. They could only take what they could carry and a couple of

mattresses.

“Be ready! Don’t bring too much! One suit-case and mattress! No weapons,

radio’s, or camera’s! You must obey. By order of the Imperial Japanese

Army,” the soldier dictated.

Mother seemed almost relieved that her time had finally come. Sister

Catherine comforted mother with scriptures from the book of Psalms and

comforted Wilhelm.

“No more waiting and no more worrying about that knock on the door. Our

food is running low, and Javanese left for her village. It is no longer safe to

venture from home."

Mother held Catherine tightly.

“God will protect us,” said Sister Catherine softly.

The Japanese soldier patrolling the avenue in their jeeps were now on foot,

day and night. Sometime a soldier would stand right at the end of the

driveway holding his bayonet firmly against his chest.

Mother kept checking doors, and Sister Catherine would peek through a

small hole in one of the shutters. Wilhelm bravely patrolled the house

listening to noises from the outside.

Mother dragged out two of the largest suitcases she could find and opened

them in the middle of the floor. Then she walked around the house opening

every cupboard and chest of drawers and leaving them ajar. She opened the

linen closet and methodically sorted through the impeccably ironed and

starched sheets and tablecloths.

“Good choice, sheets and tablecloths can be made into clothes. Children

grow out of clothes fast.” Sister Catherine smiled.

“Then we need needles, thread, and scissors.,” Mother stuffed them

between the sheets.

“Don’t forget buttons, several rolls of string, and a small box of pins.,”

Sister Catherine handed her the buttons, string, pins, and several bottles of

cod-liver oil.

“God works in mysterious ways and has a plan for you. God uses me for

nursing skills. Use my suitcase for the children. Don‘t forget paper, pencils,

crayons, and your poems.” Sister Catherine pointed to a second suitcase.

The suit cases were full to bursting. Mother was done. Sister Catherine

comforted Wilhelm with

stories of the bible, like the Noah’s ark and Jesus filling the fishermen’s

nets with so many fish, and sang lullaby’ s for Ernestine.

Mother pretended that she was leaving for a trip, a vacation, and would be

returning soon. She cleaned the house, the dishes were neatly stored in their

cup-boards, and the tables were cleaned. Then she placed her poems on an

ornamental Victorian table, decorated with an orange cloth, in the sitting

room reserved for distinguished guests.

Mother wept, “How quickly things can be changed."

That night, instead of going down into the cellar, Mother and Sister

Catherine slept in beds for the very last time. The children slept with

mother in Grandfather's ultimate master bed. The next morning Sister

Catherine took twin mattresses from guest rooms, and dragged them to the

front door, and wrapped several sheets around them, so they would not get

dirty.

Mother and Sister Catherine heard the dreaded honking of the truck out in

the road. Ernestine was fussing and Wilhelm held onto his mother’s skirt.

Sister Catherine signaled that they were coming. Outside, the honking

became urgent and demanding. Two Jap soldiers strode up to the drive,

their heavy boots crunching the gravel. They waved their arms, shouting,

“Hurry! Hurry!”

Mother dashed back into the sitting room and returned clutching her book of

poems. Turning it over, she quickly tucked it in carefully among the sheets

and tablecloths.

Mother was wasting the Imperial Army’s time, and the soldier was

becoming impatient. The open truck was loaded with women and children,

none of whom Mother and Sister Catherine knew, sitting in the broiling

sun. Sister dragged the suitcases into the truck and several of the women

jumped down and offered help. Mother pulled the mattresses into the truck.

Sister Catherine took the children and nestled Ernestine in her umbrella

skirt like a bird nesting safely, and Wilhelm was holding on to her arm. The

soldiers stood by with their rifles raised, shouting abuse, never lifting a

finger to help. Mother turned back to lock the door when one of the soldiers

jabbed her side with his bayonet.

“Get back!” he screamed. He was becoming hysterical. “Get in the truck.

No need to lock the door. Not your house now.” He placed himself

between Mother and the house, legs apart and rifle pointing. The soldier

pushed Mother down the drive, and arms reached down to pull her up into

the open truck. There was very little space on the truck floor.

Nobody said a word as the truck roared off. A few more stops, more

families, and the truck was more than full. Mother and Sister Catherine

traveled days in the oppressive heat of the blazing sun. There was no shade

on the truck, and the heat was heightened by closely packed bodies. The

dry dust, churned up by the wheels, came up in great brown swirls, sticking

to mother’s face and arms until she felt she would choke on it. Most of the

children were crying and begging to go home. Wilhelm joined the children

in a weeping and wailing symphony as the truck rolled on the rough gravel

road. The women were grabbed at anything that might provide at least a

little shade, and shared their straw hats with the babies.

The transport truck became part of a long caravan of trucks, all traveling to

Padang, all moving slowly through tiny squalid villages, where natives

rushed out of their homes to see the truck pass. The natives held up

containers of water and let it flow on the ground. The mothers on the truck

were begging for the water for the children.

“You’re getting what you deserve,” shouted a woman.

“Later,” laughed at a woman pouring out the water.

“Please, a little water for the children,” cried Sister Catherine.

“She is white.” The woman poured out the last drop of water.

“Now, whites are inferior,” shouted a woman wrapped in a sarong

An old Indonesian man looked at Mother and said with a sarcastic smile,

on his face.

“Yaw Nona, duly lain searing."

“What did he say?” Sister Catherine asked.

“It means something like. “Yes madam, things have changed.” whispered

Mother. Along the road sides were many young rebellious natives calling

white women and children in transport, all sort of names. They shouted that

they were happy that the Dutch were captured by the Japanese.

“Did you see that? The Japs are taking bicycles and giving them to the

Javanese.” Mother bowed her head hiding her tears that were coming into

her eyes.

“Yes, I saw that. Not only from children but from adult, yelling "Whites

have no rights."

Sister Catherine responded softly.

This was happening in Pekanbaru, the town where she had been to school,

where she proudly had received her two swimming certificates, where she

had walked with her friends, where she had ridden on her bike, where she

had taken a bus each Saturday to

Palembang where she had bought all sorts of sweets and peanuts from the

Indonesian street vendors. Overheated the truck rolled to the entrance gates

to the camp. The gates slammed behind the truck, and Mother and Sister

Catherine craned their necks to get a first look at a town enclosed by a high

fence of thick barbwire.

“We are in Padang.” Mother sighed, clutching the children, and held Sister

Catherine’s hand.

----------------------------------------

　Not long thereafter, when Grandfather had been six months in the camp,

he was electrified by a piercing cry from a group of children,

“The women are passing by.,” Grandfather pointed to the women.

Most of the men ran outside, climbed onto any high perches they could find,

and shaded their eyes to look into the distance.

“Look." Grandfather whispered. "Look, my daughter is holding an orange

cloth."

Grandfather waved and mother waved the orange cloth back and forth.

“I bet those Japes alongside do not even know why she was waving an

orange cloth.,” said Grandfather.

The man standing next to Grandfather screamed when he recognized his

daughter and frantically waved his arms. His daughter passed by, and with

his bare hands he climbed over the barbed wire. He ran to his daughter,

dropped to his knees, and blood spat out when he reached stretched his

arms. His daughter reached out and held tightly his hand. 　

A Japanese soldier tore them apart with a wooden stick. Another soldier

kicked him and made him sit on the ground holding the stick behind the bent

knees. He fainted and regained consciousness three hours later. Then the

soldier maltreated him again by beating his back with sticks. Then he hit

the man on his thigh and broke his thighbone.

The stick was about one meter long and as thick as an arm. Seeing that the

man was unable to walk the soldier buried him in the ground up to the neck.

Then the soldier ordered roll call and the women and children had to

remain in a bowing position facingJapan.

“Do not look up. Remain in that position until I order you to stand at

attention,” the soldier yelled.

Mother shivered briefly and dared to move. The women were released

when the man was unearthed and let free. Grandfather helped the man as he

crawled back to the barrack with two arms and one leg, dragged the bloody

broken leg. The soldier, with a threatened of death to anyone who from

helped the poor man.

“Shah. Don’t talk. Here. Slowly.,” Grandfather poured a little rice water

into his mouth. Grandfather took a piece of his sheet and ripped it to small

pieces,' cleaning and binding the wound. In the barracks others looked

through the cracks as Grandfather hanged the bandages. Grandfather slept

alongside the men on long bamboo platforms next to each other, head to

feet. Those who died remained there until the “burial detail” made its

rounds the next morning, moving from a hut to a hut to remove corpses.

Grandfather cut two mosquito nets down to five and made mattress pads

from gunny rice sacks filled with dry grass. The cubicle had no window.

Light and air came in through the door opening.

In rainy weather, it was damp and clammy, and it had a permanent musty,

mildew smell.

The camp was no larger than a football field and consisted of a rectangle of

dismal-looking barracks crudely built of bamboo-plaited walls and palm-

front roofs. The rectangle enclosed a muddy and dusty compound.

The prisoners went on their working parties in shifts. The natives were

hired by the Japanese as an auxiliary soldiers, and would be rewarded to

arrest a Dutchman.

One day in a timbering site, a large amount of beans were stolen from a field.

About one hundred natives, who worked for cheap labor, joined the prisoners

at the timber site. Grandfather saw a native lining his pockets with the beans.

He looked surprised at the native.

“Please, I need the beans to feed my family.” The native took the beans, dug a

hole, and hid the beans.

The natives and the prisoners were assembled. Two Japanese soldiers and ten

auxiliary soldiers arrived and beat everyone, nine times on average, to draw

the thief out. One man was beaten so severely that he dropped from his knees

to the ground. The soldier lifted his head and pronounced him dead. The

beatings went on and others dropped like flies. An auxiliary soldier

approached the native who stole the beans.

“Do you know who stole the beans? Which of these men did it?” The soldier

pointed to the prisoners. Grandfather stepped out of the line.

“ I stole the beans. I gave the beans to the natives. Women were begging for

food.”

“Why would you give food to the natives? Natives hate whites. You made

them coolies,” a high ranking officer shouted.

“Remember, the cultivation system? Instead of taxes, Javanese peasants were

required to set aside one-fifth of their land to grow some crop specified by

your government. In theory, the peasants would get some of the benefit in

years when the crops were good or prices high, while the government would

take its lumps if the value of the crops on the one-fifth portion of the land did

not meet expectations. In fact, your government never played fair while this

system was in operation. Peasants were pressured to put more than one-fifth

of their land into the ‘“culture’” system, and their crops were evaluated in a

way that benefited only the government. Furthermore, your government began

to annex large parts of Java so as to extend the scale of its operations.” The

officer walked back and forth lecturing.

The thief who took the beans looked at Grandfather as he was beaten with

rattan sticks. He was then tied in a position with his hands tied behind his

back, and was left in that position for seven days and nights.

The news reached Mother and Sister Catherine smuggled a note to

Grandfather. Sister Catherine worked at a hospital which the Japanese

requisitioned it for themselves, and used her to nursed men internees and

women internees. Sister Catherine was instrumental in maintaining a pipeline of

secret correspondence between the two camps. She hid the small folded notes

under her voluminous skit and carried them between the women’s and men’s

wards. Patients returning to the women’s camp would then deliver the notes.

Women would sew the notes into the hems of shorts or in the straps of sun

halters or hide them on their bodies.

A young woman by the name of Ineka would crawl in the sewer to the

men’s camp and pick up little notes and return them to the women’s camp.

She would receive a little morsel of food or clothing for taking the risk. Six

months after Grandfather’s beating, a message was delivered to Mother.

Grandfather wanted to see Mother and would meet her in the corn fields at

the full moon.

The soldiers celebrated a full moon with rice wine and used comfort girls

all night for drinking and sex. Usually, comfort girls received privileges

that made life easierlike extra food and clothing. If there weren't enough

comfort girls, Japanese soldiers would call teen-age girls and young

women. They stood in a queue, and the soldiers would look at them from

toe to toe and take them away. Each time the guards called the women, the

soldier would pass Mother quickly because she would bow into a slump

and shake of a possible malaria attack.

This was a real nightmare for Sister Catherine and taught that ugliness is

beautiful, enjoy a foul body odor, and practice the shaking chill. “Look as

ugly as you can. Smell liked a corpse. They are scared of mixing blood

with harmful impurities,.” Sister said.

Finally, the full moon came, and mother dropped on all fours and crawled

under the wire. The moon stood full and lit. Mother crawled a little

distance and stopped in a clearing between bushes. There was no sign of

Grandfather. The dead silence continued.

Nature seemed to hold its breath as Mother held hers breath. Not a leaf

rustled. Not a branch swayed. Her mouth was dry. Her heart pounded.

“Has something happened? Did the guard catch him as he sneaked away?”

Mother wondered.

Then she saw Grandfather. He was standing motionless under a tree. He

crouched, too, and came toward us in the clearing silently, slinking like a

tiger through the grass.

“Was it difficult to get here?” Mother sobbed.

“It was difficult crawling through the corn fields. The most arduous part

was where I least expected it. I had just stood up and crossed a road

behind the back of three Japanese soldiers when I met the bean thief. A

Javanese asked what I was doing outside the campgrounds. I told him I

wanted to see my daughter. I wanted to know how my two grand-children

are doing. He smiled and let me pass. How are Ernestine and Wilhelm?”

cried Grand-Father.

“Ernestine and Wilhelm are fine. I brought you a present.” Mother pulled a

little folder she had covered with linen and embroidered with red and blue

thread left over from her rice- sack. It was a poem written on a tiny piece

of burlap and wrapped tightly in orange cloth.

“Thank you. Are you reading poetry?”

“Yes, education is totally forbidden. We can only speak Japanese and

Malay. I secretly teach the children Malay. Thank God the servants taught

me Malay. I rhyme the notes and write in quatrains. Sister Catherine

smuggles the notes at the clinic. The women are so afraid to get caught. But,

there are a few brave ones.”

“I have to go now. Otherwise, I won’t be back in time for the end-of-the

morning roll call. If you seen me in the working party when I pass your

camp, you will know I got back all right.”

Huddled together in the clearing behind the barbed-wire fence, Grandfather

and Mother folded hands, and Grandfather asked God to look after Mother,

Wilhelm, and Ernestine. Grandfather gave her a quick kiss.

“I have to go now. Keep your faith. It won’t be long,” Grandfather said and

was gone.

The next morning, Mother watched the prisoners, and walked among the

men, Grandfather was there wiping his face with the orange cloth. Mother

gave Grandfather the alpine cry with more gusto than ever. Wilhelm hid

behind a palm tree eyeing Sister Catherine who was pacifying Ernestine.

The route of Sister Catherine came to a sad end when the Japanese

apprehended her in the act of smuggling notes from the women’s ward to

the men’s ward.

“Did you write these notes.”

“Yes.”

“Write a sentence. I am a liar,” Sister Catherine wrote and copied

Mother’s handwriting.

Mother wrote in quatrains and unique styles of poetry.

“I am a nun. I write only for God,” Sister Catherine cried.

The Japanese soldier called the Dutch interpreter and she read the note.

“No, just religious gibberish. Just like in the Bible,” the Dutch interpreter

smiled. Sister Catherine was brutally beaten by the Japanese soldier and

she spent months in an isolated cell.

The news of Sister Catherine's torture and condemnation to solitary

confinement hit the women’s camp hard. Soon after, the men moved to their

new location and a gloom settled over the women’s camp. No more did the

men go by. No more waving. No more smuggling of messages.

The men were loaded in an caravan of transport trucks and the women’s

camp was moved to the barracks' camp the men just left. Mother received

an orange cloth from a coolie. Grandfather was beaten to death. The teary

eyed coolie brought the news. A Javanese coolie called Grandfather a

thief. The coolie revenged two decades of plantation slavery. The coolie

wrongly accused Grandfather. He said Grand-father stole a rain -jacket,

and as punishment, a Japanese soldier tied Grandfather's hands behind his

back and hung him from a tree in such a way that his toes just touched the

ground. The soldier then sprinkled petrol on Grandfather's head and set it

on fire. Grandfather’s hair flared up instantly, causing him shriek out of

pain. Soon his head swelled up and became like a pig’s and blood gushed

out of it. Grandfather was then taken down and untied.

Once his head was cleansed by his friends, the soldier approached him

again and slapped his pig-like face many times with full force. Still

unsatisfied, he pumped water into Grandfather’s stomach until it swelled

up like a balloon. After this torture Grandfather was taken to the clinic and

stayed there for about one month and died. Grandfather traded the rain -

jacket for his Swiss watch from a coolie to give to another coolie who

needed a canopy from the monsoon. Mother retreated to her mat and sat for

hours holding Ernestine and Wilhelm weeping. At the front of the camp by

the gate was the Japanese commander’s office, and a large blackboard hung

outside the office, where everyone could read what was going on.

On the other side, another blackboard listed the name of each prisoner and

their number. A number was assigned and pinned on. Even the children had

to wear a number. In a tropical climate, the children had on little pants and

a little shirt, or sometimes no shirt at all. A soldier approach a little boy

who wasn’t wearing his shirt but had his number on his pants. Mother stood

behind the boy and gave him her top blouse to cover the boy.

“Boy must wear the number on shirt,” the Japanese soldier scoffed. The

soldier took it off the boy’s pants and pinned it directly onto the left side of

the boy’s bare chest.

“Do not remove the number. Everyone must wear a number."

The soldier laughed while the boy screamed.

“Now, you move the pin. Always have shirt on,.” the soldier shouted to the

boy.

Mother was shocked and for a brief moment, she forgot to look down while

in the presence of a Japanese soldier. The soldier kicked Mother and hit

her breast and stomach with brute force. The boy heard the thump, thump,

thump sound as the soldier beat her. The boy listened in horror and his

scream faded into total silence. Mother got up.

Slowly, holding her breast and walked to the boy. She took the pin out of

his flesh and clothed the boy with her top blouse. She took the boy to her

barrack. Wilhelm was warm hearted and helped mother tending the boy’s

wound.

Sister Catherine returned to the clinic. The commandant needed her nursing

skills; and focused on the women of the camp.

The commandant ordered the women and they all had to gather around A

Japanese guard who stood there waited with the Dutch interpreter next to

him. The women were called together, because one or two of them had

tried to smuggle goods for food.

“There are smugglers among you, ” the commandant shouted.

The Japanese guard asked, “Who has tried to smuggle during the night? If

none of you will answer then the whole camp will be punished! So come

forward”

Some of the women became angry and called out aloud: “Just say it if you

have smuggled the passed night, otherwise we will all be punished even

the little children!!" But no one came forward. The Japanese guard became

really furious and said, "The the whole camp shall be punished today. You

shall have no water until tomorrow morning.”

After a day without water, the women once again were all called together.

The Japanese guard and the Dutch interpreter told them that they all had to

watch how three women who had tried to smuggle would be hanged that

day. Bamboo poles were installed, then two women and a young girl were

brought forwards. Their hands were tied behind their backs, their toes

could just touch the ground, their heads fell forwards and so the sun was

shining for a couple of hours on the back of their necks.

The camp women had to stand and watch them, while the Japanese guard

warned them all that next time when there was anymore smuggling, the

punishment would be even worse. When at last the two women and the

young girl could go, they had to be carried to their mattresses. They

couldn't walk.

The third interrogation was when Ineka was on duty as a night-watcher.

There was hardly any moonlight that horrible night, and it was quite cold as

well. She heard a woman crying out aloud from pain. You could hear how

she was beaten up with a split bamboo stick. The Japanese soldiers were

always using split bamboos since that would

give one splinter in the body. This beating up didn't stop while she was on

night duty from two until four o'clock in the morning. It just went on and on.

Mothers were desperate, their children were starving, they didn't grow,

they didn't get their vitamins, they were sometimes dying in their mother's

arms.

A Dutch officer was a patient in her clinic suffering from beriberi. One

morning, a Japanese doctor dragged him out, bound his wrists together,

wrapped him in a plaited mat, and tied him in such a way that only the

officer’s legs below the knees could be seen.

The doctor then set fire to the mat. All the patients of the clinic had to

witness the officer jump. When the fire died out, the doctor bound the

officer’s feet and hanged him from a bough of a tree in such a way that the

officer was upside down but his hands touched the ground to support part

of his body weight. The doctor then removed the burnt mat from the officer

body and left him in that position. Sister Catherine cut him down and

nursed him. The following day the officer improved slightly, and mustered

enough energy to mutter a few words. The Dutch interpreter was assisting

Sister Catherine.

“Sister, Do you have a woman Leny Glaser with two children named

Ernestine and Wilhelm?"

“Yes.”

"A few of escaped from the Java sea into the east hills of Java and joined the

allies, but most were rounded up by the Japanese under Imamura’s command. T

hey were packed alive into bamboo pig baskets, transported in open rail cars

to Surabaya, then taken to sea and thrown overboard to sharks, while still in

the bamboo baskets.”

"How awful. Did you see it?

They were interrogted and tortured. They were ordered to strip. Japs

pulled out pig baskets and the soldiers crawled into them. If they

weren’t fast enough they were kicked into those baskets or stung with

a bayonet. Their hands were tied up. The shorter men had to go

together in one basket.That very same afternoon we saw more trucks.

They were loaded with pig baskets. They stopped each time waiting

for the other trucks to follow. How many of those trucks, I can’t

remember. They stood there in the burning sun and you could hear

them groaning and begging for water. Japs like ants covered the hills.

We were helpless as they stood there with their bayonets poking into

the baskets. We kept very quiet and looked through a small hole. The

groaning was the worst of all. It is most likely that the men who layed

on the bottom of those trucks were already dead. Much later we

learned their fate."

“God forgive them,” Sister Catherine wept.

“Dirty Japs ,” the interpreter thought.

The Dutch interpreter comforted the officer and Sister Catherine until

dawn. The following later after-noon the doctor grabbed Sister Catherine

and beat her breast and stomach knocking her to the floor. Then he poured a

bucket of sea water over the officer and Sister Catherine, and then let them

go.

The officer’s body had turned yellowish, and the skin of the right half of his

back had completely peeled off. He could not sleep and moaned and

groaned day and night. The doctor shouted that the death of the officer and

Sister Catherine was justified. The officer was punished for stealing

potatoes and Sister Catherine for nursing him.

The camp was devastated when they dug a hole for Sister Catherine and

with a shovel scooped her body and dropped it in the ground, put other

dead bodies on top and covered them with dirt. The Dutch interpreter stood

next to mother as she covered it with dirt.

“Leny, the Dutch officer escaped from the Java sea into the hills of East

Java. There they met allied with soldiers. The Japanese were ordered to

round up the allied soldiers.

They failed. Instead the soldiers attacked the Japanese. Many were killed.

He was brave and stood his ground and killed a score of Japs. The officer

escaped, and eventually was captured and ended up at the clinic with

beriberi. Your husband spoke often about a camp between the Siak river

and the jungle in Padang.” the interpreter yelled in Dutch misleading a

Japanese soldier resting on his bayonet.

“Be strong and do not cry. You must think about Wilhelm and Ernestine. I

don’t want to signal a mixed message to that Jap,“ whispered the

interpreter.

“Oh, my beloved. I have to stay alive for Wilhelm and Ernestine.,” Mother

composed herself by shoveling a lot of dirt covering the hole.

“More dirt,” laughed the soldier.

--------------------------------

Mother and the children settled in her closet-like room. The women were

forbidden to cook because the food was distributed. Women and children

would stand in line with their tin can and cup. The barrack was an average-

size house with up to one hundred women and children living in each of

them. Toilets were no longer working and forced Mother to use the pit in

front of the house for an open sewer. When she finished her business in a

pail, she just threw it in a hole. It was terrible when the tropical rains

came.

A tropical rain poured straight down and very quickly everything was

flooded. All that human waste overflowed, The smell was rancid. The

barracks, made of wood, bamboo and leaves of the Atap Palm, were

poorly built and deteriorated quickly. Screaming was normal during the

night. Children crying from hunger pangs and women going insane. In the

pitch black jungle could be heard all manners of strange noises. Birds or

monkeys’ screeching, twigs cracking as animals trod their way through

dense undergrowth frightening the life out of them.

“Sumatra is a beautiful place in a civilized environment, but deadly for an

impenetrable jungle between the mountains and swamps where the panthers

roamed. A large watchtower standing on stilts overlooked the camp and the

surrounding jungle and river. Snakes, leeches, mosquitoes, river

crocodiles, and alligators are ever ready to bite of the human flesh.” said

Mother to two camp women. Many times the women were chased out of the

barracks, when the Japs wanted to

search for forbidden articles such as money, pencils, paper, diaries, and

gold. Mother managed to hide Father’s signet ring by putting it on one of

her toes and covering it with dirt or mud.

---------------------------

Mother became lost in a daydream about being someplace with peace and

quiet, and imagined herself sitting at a table with an elegant tablecloth until

a little girl screamed and came into the barrack with her fingers all covered

in blood.

“What happened?” asked Mother.

“I was playing and forgot to bow,” cried the little girl.

“Soldier grabbed me and pulled out my fingernails,”

"To teach me not to forget to bow.”

Wilhelm took the little girl’s hand and quickly tore a piece of his shirt and

wrapped the cloth tightly around the little girl’s fingers.

A year passed and Wilhelm ran and yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Mommy, the soldier is taking the boys.”

“Be calm. You are only six years old.”

Mother held Wilhelm close and sat at the edge of a bamboo bench behind

the banyan tree. Sixty-five little boys had to leave their mothers. The boys

were ten and some of them were even nine years old and now the boys had

to leave. They were brought into a camp for teenage boys and old men.

Wilhelm watched those frightened boys carrying their little bit of luggage,

loaded on trucks and driven outside the gate. Their fathers were

gone, but from that day on, the boys were also without their mothers. Most

of them were ten years old, but they looked not older than eight years, this

because of the malnutrition.

It was a real nightmare for their mothers, who felt so helpless since they

could no longer look after their sons. There were so many questions.

Would their little boys be treated well? Would they get at least a little

more food in their new home? There were sixty-five broken mothers left

behind in the camp.

Two mothers lost their mind because they were acutely so worried about

their sons. One of the poor mother’s that Mother knew started looking

everywhere. She thought that someone in the camp was hiding her son away

from her. Her daughters tried to protect their poor mother as much as they

could. This was especially very difficult during the roll call early in the

morning.

The second mother Mother met during her cleaning duties. Mother heard

someone screaming in a very scary way, and suddenly she saw a woman

completely naked running towards the Japanese quarters. Mother ran to the

camp head, to tell her what was going on. However, they were too late.

Many people had heard the woman screaming.

The Japanese guards posts grabbed her. The poor woman was loaded in a

car and then the Japs drove away with her.

All the women from the age of fifteen years old had to work. Young girls

had to help the older women care for small children and babies. As soon as

a girl turned fifteen shehad to join the group of grass cutters in the camp.

She had to cut each and every grass stalk with a small knife or with her

hands. She could be only squat on her haunches, and

that was very painful after a few hours. A Javanese guard stood there with

a whip in his hands watching the girls. They were not allowed to talk or to

sit on the ground. As soon as she was seventeen, the three-hour work load

became four to five hours per day. We were squatting on the ground. It was

not a heavy, but a very tiring job. Mother’s labor was near the rail-road

gathering stones and placing them on a cart. Transport trucks would come

through the gate honking and blasting trumpets. Soldiers jumped of

transport trucks and started screaming at the women. The women had a half

hour to eat, stand in line for roll-call, and bow deeply facing Japan. Then

the women were huddled in the transport trucks and packed. The trucks

followed the river into a city nearby.

One year passed in the camp, and after the summer monsoon a Japanese

soldier hurdled a very tall lanky man wearing ragged khaki shorts, faded

shirt, and worn out sandals.

“Sit here. The commandant wants to see you,” said the soldier

“Thank you for the seat. You are kind,.” the man replied in Japanese.

The following day, the commandant descended from his chauffeur-driven

car, waving and smiling at the camp children playing in the street, and

patting a small boy on the head as he went into the Japanese headquarters.

The man was shown into a large, dark office where the commandant was

seated behind a metal desk, helping himself to the chocolate from the

American Red Cross. In a corner stood a large ape stretching his arms and

legs, clinging and rattling an iron cage.

The commandant motioned with his hands to settle down and sit. Father

walked towards the cage and noticed two pad locks, and sighed in relief.

“You are Julius De Vries?” asked the commandant

“Yes.”

“The Dutch government used your multiple language skills and

administration skills to manage the colony’s businesses. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Now, you work for us.”

“In Japanese, how does a powerful linguist administrator of a colony who

ruled these islands for three hundred and fifty years stand before me?”

“Commandant, I was instrumental in teaching skills in map reading. I was

appointed.

The initial objectives of the Japanese in south Sumatra were the main

airfield at

Palembang and the Royal Dutch Shell oil refineries, a few miles from

Palembang. They needed the airfield to reinforce and re supply and to use

as a base in the conquest of North Sumatra and Java. I was the translator of

the Dutch and English and taught them the skill of map reading and

translated intelligence from the Japanese. I told them not to under estimate

the Japanese and their tenacity in parachuting under adverse conditions. I

was correct because the slow, low flying Japanese paratrooper transports

had managed to arrive over the target with complete surprise because the

entire region was blanketed in grey smoke from the burned oil wells to the

north in Borneo and Celebes, and the great fire in Singapore. Shortly

thereafter, the Imperial Army captured me and interrogated me. Soon, they

learned of my multiple language skill and found me quite useful."

“Good, that you do not under estimate the Japanese. Western sanctions are

harmful against Japan. The United States and Britain reacted with an oil

boycott, and the oil rich Dutch

paid the penalty. Westerners point to eyes and say Japanese can’t see good.

Japanese sees perfectly. How many languages do you speak fluently?”

"Five: Chinese, Dutch, Malay, English, and of course, Japanese.”

“We need a man with your skill as a translator for the men’s and women’s

camp when needed. You are in command of the food distribution. The

prisoners talk when they stand in line for their ration of food. I can use a

social -linguist. There are many nationalities that work on the rail-road

project. You are to report if anything is said against the Emperor.

We have translators, but very limited. Your skill will be very useful with

the soldiers. Since food is a rare commodity,; you can root out them

easily,” the commandant said eating the chocolate.

Watching the commandant eat the chocolate seemed to bolster Father in

accepting the commandant’s offer.

“Good. Everything remains, but food should not be an issue now. He will

show you out. The Malay guard doesn‘t understand Japanese.” The

commandant smiled and handed Father chocolate, cheese, and flat bread.

“Remember, Mr. De Vries prisoners do not have rights here. Japan chose

not to sign the Geneva Convention guidelines. Japanese proves moral

superiority. Chinese is corrupted by opium, and Russians by vodka. The

Dutch are materialistic westerners founded on exploitation and personal

profit,” said the commandant defiantly.

“We are standing for justice and life, while they are standing for profits.

We are defending justice, while they are attacking for profits. They raise

their heads in arrogance, while we are constructing the Great East Asia

family. Japan's victories seem to prove her moral superiority."

“Words brilliantly expressed by the poet Takamura Kotaro. You are well

read.” complimented the commandant.

“Japan proposed a ‘"racial equality clause’" in the Covenant of the League

of Nations on February as an amendment to Article 21:

"The equality of nations being a basic principle of the League of Nations,

the High Contracting Parties agree to accord as soon as possible to all

alien nationals of states, members of the League, equal and just treatment in

every respect making no distinction, either in law or in fact, on account of

their race or nationality.” The commandant recited.

“Commandant,. America, Great Britain, and Australia were arrogant to

overturn, block, and defeat the proposal. The stresses of Japan’s

devastating earthquake coupled with the boycott of oil and racial

discrimination brought us to this place.”

“You are well-informed for a colonial. I’ll see you at this camp next

week."

The guard led Father out. He gave him a notebook and pencil and handed

him the transport truck keys loaded with food. The guard’s eyes lit up when

Father spoke in Malay briefly. He turned the key and drove to his camp,

pinching his skeleton flesh.

　 -------------------

The Japs told Mother she was filthy vermin, and mother was starting to

believe them. The camp had little water and no soap. Sand was good to

scrub plates clean, but it was not good for a body, covered in open sores.

There was a little need to wash a plate, anyway, as Wilhelm and mother

licked them spotlessly clean. Wilhelm carefully licked

around the edges, since the tins now serving as plates were sharp where

they had been cut. The camp was receiving only rice now, one very small

bowl per day. The commandant told the camp that they did not deserve

more food than that. The prisonerswere told that a new man would be in

command of the food distribution. Mother and the two women took it upon

themselves to try to improve life for the quantity and quality of the food,

since everyone was starving. Hunger had become such a problem that

people were hallucinating about food parcels arriving in all sorts of

miraculous ways. They swore that they had seen the parcels swinging down

from the skies, but hadn’t been able to find them because the guards got to

them first. Many times Wilhelm and Mother eagerly joined crowds at the

entrance gates, waiting for the liberators who were going to come

sweeping into the camp on roller skates, carrying huge bags of food on

their backs.

Finally, the day came that the commandant descended from his chauffeur-

driven car, waving and smiling at the camp children playing, and patting a

small boy on the head as he went into the Japanese headquarters.

After cleaning up as best as they could and putting on their least

ragged sarongs and blouses, the three of them walked resolutely into the

headquarters and asked to speak to him.　

A guard showed Mother and the two women into a room nestled among

packages from the Red Cross. All the things the women and children

needed were in that room: disinfectants, painkillers, bandages, ointments,

quinine, powdered milk, soap, chocolate bars, and hundreds of assorted

tins of food.

“This is sickening. Stealing our lives and the children."

“The English told the truth that she saw contents of the parcels divided

among the commandant and officers,.” the woman thought standing by

Mother.

“Yes?” the commandant queried with his mouth full, looking at mother and

the two women up and down with a leer.

“Commandant, we are in desperate need and beg for access to the medical

supplies from the Red Cross. There will be few deaths. It would be good

for the whole camp if they could have the food from the Red Cross,"

Mother said quickly before she lost her nerve, and staring helplessly at the

parcels.

Perspiring profusely, the commandant’s little glittering eyes never left her

face, and he stood up and reached for a bell. The two women standing by

Mother reached over to her to silence any further speech. Hearts pounding,

they realized they were in deep trouble.

The door flew open, and several guards marched in, their rifles raised and

bayonets pointing at Mother and the two women, waiting for instructions

from the commandant. Slowly, ever so slowly and deliberately, the

commandant walked around the women in tightening circles. Then he

stopped and stood behind them for several minutes. To Mother is an

agonizing eternity. Hardly daring to breathe, they stared straight ahead and

tried to anticipate his next move.

The commandant screamed an order. Three of the guards rushed forward

and dragged the women from the room and out the back door. There, in a

little courtyard hidden from prying eyes, they received a horrible beating.

Lashing from bamboo sticks across their bony backs sent them reeling to

the ground. As they lay cowering in the dirt, trying to shield themselves

from the army boots kicking viciously at their faces and ribs.

With broken noses and teeth, and swollen eyes, the women tied to crawl

away, only to be pulled back by their hair. It came out in handfuls. Mother

who had done all the talking glanced toward the door and saw the squat

figure of the commandant standing there. In his hand was the box of

chocolates, from which he was calmly helping himself as he watched the

beatings.

Every prisoner in the camp was denied their daily rations of rice and water

for as long as Mother and the two women were ordered to march around

the entire camp shaved. Their heads were shaven unevenly like a plucked

chicken. Blood streamed from open sores of their black-and-blue flesh.

Wilhelm and Ernestine hid safely under the umbrella skirt of a nun. After a

day Mother was released, and a kind nun walked Wilhelm and Ernestine to

her barrack. To enforce supreme rule, all the prisoners of the camp were

ordered to watch the next truck load of food to be dumped into a large dirt

pit just outside the front gates. Mother was standing with Ernestine in her

arms, and Wilhelm tugging at her ripped and filthy rags.

The truck load of food arrived at the camp. The commandant ordered

Father to dump the food in the dirt pile and drive the food into the dirt with

the transport truck. All the prisoners were gathered by the barbed wired

gate and watched the spectacle.

Father saw Mother holding Ernestine and Wilhelm was tugging at her torn

sarong. He was overwhelmed when he saw Mother with her bruises

comforting Ernestine.

“I have to do something.” he thought.

Mother looked and saw a white mystical snow-white tiger.

“You are the tiger spirit who looks after the forests, walks through fragile

woods where pale moonlight orchids flourishes,.” Mother thought.

Father bowed to the commandant and spoke to the commandant in

Japanese.

“Sir, with all due respect spoiling food is an disadvantage for your cause.

Sick people can’t work for the mighty empire of Japan. Women are

valuable. Now, they are weak to work on the railroad hustling buckets of

gravel, but you can use them for sewing and knitting. Japanese soldiers

need uniforms. Elbow and sock patches are women’s work. A sewing

machine is a profitable tool instead of a shuffle digging graves.” Father

said in Japanese.

The women and children of the camp dropped their jaws and heard

Father’s fluent Japanese. The commandant became irritated at the

prisoner’s admiration.

“Kiray,” the commandant shouted.

Women and children lined up immediately and bowed deeply facing the direction of the flag of the rising sun.

“Wilhelm, bow please." Mother pleaded.

“I want to kick him, punch him, and kill him,.” Wilhelm said

“Please, bow for me.” Mother said.

“Okay. Mother. Because of you, I will,.” Wilhelm whispered.

“A sewing machine, here?”

“Yes, commandant. There are not enough sewing factories to cloth

Japanese soldiers andsmall hands can patch soldiers socks.”

“Excellent idea. Open the gates for the food truck,.” the commandant

ordered.　

“The living can work, Commandant.” Father’s blue eyes looked at

Mother’s bowing position.

“You are clever. We will sew and patch. I am appointing you as the head

administrator to set up our new sewing and patch work shop and factory.

This will be added to your other job.

“Nowray,” the commandant shouted.

The women and children stood at attention until the commandant jumped

into his Jeep and left.

Mother looked up and saw Father standing in the place of the tiger.

“Where is the tiger?” Mother thought.

Father’s confidence boosted hope when the truck rolled in and dropped the

food in the kitchen area. "Here are pieces of bread with peanut butter and

cheese." Father said lovingly in Dutch.

“Dank je well." Mother took the food.

“Where did you learn to speak Japanese?”

“It is a long story. Not now. Do you sew, knit, or patch?”

“Yes.”

“You need to do everything to stay alive. The allies are closing in. It is

only a matter of time. This is an opportunity to stay alive. Show the

commandant submission and work for him with gratitude. I‘ll take care of

the rest.” Father’ ‘s deep blue eyes and mild manner comforted Mother.

After the beating, Mother became invisible. The beatings stopped. Father

was instrumental in using the medical supplies hoarded by the commandant

for the prisoners: disinfectants,painkillers, bandages, ointments, and

quinine. The other items, such as powered milk for the children, soap,

chocolate bars, and all the assorted tins of food.

Before Father was captured, he buried in an container stacked with cash,

gold, and gold jewelry. Father was familiar with the jungle and carved

characters in the thick woody trunks. Father choose old banyan trees

because the tree can spread out laterally, using prop roots to cover a wide

area. Father sold his gold watch to a Javanese for a 1938 Singer. He went

to the banyan tree, dropped on his knees, and dug out the container. He took

out his gold watch and some cash. Father stood up and the image of

Mother’s bruised face and body struck him like a lightning rod, knocking

him on the trunk of the banyan tree.

The garment project was started by Father with one peddle foot sewing

machine. Father brought the sewing machine to Mother and proudly set the

machine in her barrack.

“What is your name?"

“Leny. This is Wilhelm and Ernestine.”

"Have you seen your husband. Maybe I can find him for you?"

"My husband was killed."

Wilhelm played nervously with his fingers. He formed his fingers into

horses tapping and looking at his feet. Ernestine watched her brother's

fingers and feet.

“Leny. I want you to organize the women and children in your barrack. I

have provided spools of thread, yarn for patching socks, and needles of all

sorts. Buckets of socks and used uniforms will be dropped off to be patched and repaired. The children’s task is folding and bundling.”

“Where did you get this sewing machine?”

“Oh, a Javanese owed me and returned the favor gladly with the foot pedal.

The natives like me because I speak Malay. They don’t see the colonialism

because I speak, dress, and bargain like them.”

“I am practicing a great art. The art of being invisible.” Mother said softly.

“That is an honorable art." Father said gently.

Father made his rounds delivering food and with the help of several

Javanese coolies collected the neatly bundled patch work. A little more

rice, a little more soup, and bread was added to their meal. Salt was added

to the menu, and for extra patch work. Father bartered his way for sugar

and tobacco that would be shared by the women.

Some women would barter food for extra cigarettes; they would rather roll

and smoke it than eat food. The women avoid the black market trade. It was

a risky business, and well remembered when a Chinese man who had been

tied up and left to die because he sold loaves of bread over the barbed-

wire fence.

Father respected Mother’s departure into an invisible world. Father placed

a sacred canopy over her head and taught Mother and Wilhelm primitive

survival skills. Father taught Wilhelm the knack of catching frogs by

quickly breaking the frog’s neck. Father took a piece of glass, a stone, and

some grass. He made a fire and cooked the frogs. Mother mixed her

rationed rice with the frogs.

“Here is a can of dried bread droppings. Every day cut the corner of your

bread and dry it in the sun. The scorching sun dries the bread into kernels,

and when your ration is cut you won't be hungry.”

The only women that were dismissed from patch and sewing duties were

those not yetstarved and weakened by disease; they received extras from

their Japanese “hosts.”

One such woman was Lilith. When she walked, her still ample behind

wiggled like a lily leaf in a wind-rippled pond.

“It is my profession. It makes no difference." She smiled and handed a nun

extra food to distribute.

The nun silenced comments of how extra food was handed down. The same

nun who showered Lilith with grace ordered the grave leader to remove

her habit and leave her unclothed since clothes were so scarce. She wanted

her habit used as cloth. Lilith refused to do so,

“Only a living body has a need for cloth.”

Father had been in tip-top physical condition at the beginning of his

capture. With his many years of mountaineer training and his explorations

of the jungle and high mountains of the world. He was more used to hard

physical work and to coping with rigorousconditions than some fat, lazy

man who spent his life in the colonies sitting around in wicker chairs

drinking whiskey.

A year later Father’s truck took route on a bumpy road and took a toll

driving over the potholed dirt road and stopped by a grave site. The call

for grave diggers had gone through the camp. Mother stood at the wooded

gate of the barbed- wire fence. She waited for the guard to come out the

little palm-front covered hut next to the gate.

A stake truck stopped before the gate, and the guard came out carrying a

mattock. Mother walked toward the truck and up to the lowered tailgate.

The driver of the stake truck was a Javanese. He stuck his head out of the

cab and yelled in Malay.

"Everythng is coming to an end."

The guard approached the Javanese and gave him three duck eggs and a

chili pepper. The guard accepted a gold ring. The guard looked at Father

and silenced him.

“You, dig three graves," the guard yelled at Mother.

Mother took the mattock and started digging, shaking, and having a nervous

break-down. Father hurried to Mother’s side and helped her dig the three

graves. The guard recognized Father and stood like a cemented land post

holding his bayonet and gold ring.

“Is the commandant at the camp?" asked Father.

“No.”

“These three graves are not for this woman and her children. I am sure you

can fill them. If you have this woman dig another grave, I’ll report you to

the commandant. Her work is not grave digging but foot peddling."

“The women are murmuring that she receives extra food. I thought I would

be humble her." said the guard.

“ I am the overseer with the garment project and food. I would ditch the

gold ring. How many more duck eggs do you have?" Father asked.

“Three.”

“I’ll stop by your hut. Three duck eggs for three graves. This truck died. I‘ll

use the other transport truck parked at the camp.”

Father and Mother walked from the grave site. The guard followed them,

holding the bayonet by his side. Just after the sun came up, the air was cool.

Little flowers grew below the bushes Father saw a hibiscus in bloom and

picked one of the fiery red blossoms and gave it to Mother. What mother

liked most was seeing all the colorful butterflies.

The guard went to his hut and put three duck eggs in a coconut shell and

covered the eggs with rice. He handed the coconut shell to Father, and

Father gave it to Mother.

Mother was just regaining a bit of strength, six months before liberation,

when Father told the news of the camp’s break up.

“Leny, tomorrow the women’s and men’s camp are to be moved to an place

deep inland on a rubber plantation.”

“Into the jungle," Mother cried.

“Yes. Be brave. Do not show you are afraid. The war is almost over.”

“How can we survive in the jungle?” Mother asked.

“Snakes, snails, and frogs. The jungle has huge snakes, snails, and frogs.

Rats make good food. Lots of trees for vitamins." Father said seriously.

“The natives taught me to make spears from bamboo. With a razor sharp

spear we can hunt for larger animals. I am familiar with all sorts of poison

that can be added onto the spear’s tip.”

“I remembered those bamboo spears. The natives were forbidden to make

them by law." said Mother.

“Wilhelm, I’ll teach you to make rubber balls from rubber plants. You take

a plant, and roll it in a ball. The ball becomes hard as a rock, and if we

pitch the ball correctly, a boar can drop instantly," Father said..

“A real adventure. Maybe, we can drop an orangutan.”

“You mean an orangutan, a large tailless ape with reddish brown coarse

shaggy hair and long powerful arms?" Wilhelm asked.

“Yes."

“Wilhelm, take care of your Mother and sister. The jungle will be exciting

for us.”

-----------------------

The following day men and women were packed separately into a cattle

car with the doors tightly closed. Mother trembled reading the wood slats

which were fasten to the cattle train.

"Prisoners.” A handful of natives looked and shouted, “you’re getting what

you deserve.”

Inside the cattle car, a ghastly stench of sweat, urine, and excrement.

Mother peeked through the slats throughout the journey, and life appeared

normal for the natives. The train passed an upscale area, and Mother

exhaled when she saw Japanese families occupying large plantation homes.

The journey ended on transport trucks in Belalau, where they walked

among the rubber trees, and Mother enjoyed the sight of flowering

alamanda bushes.

Most of the women were too weak to work. Mother fetched wood and

lived mostly a zombie-like existence, and felt an increased isolation.

“How can the liberators find us in this dense jungle surrounding us? Mother

thought. Mother’s was too numb to feel emotion and couldn't care less

about jungle surviving and pep talk from Father. Deaths were occurring

every hour. The grave diggers were too weak to dig separate graves, and

there were no more orange crate type coffins. A large grave was dug and

bodies were dumped unclothed covered up with clay and dirt.

Mother continue to walk zombie-like through the camp until finally she had

go into the camp hospital with pernicious jaundice caused by the malaria.

Father kept busy using his language skills scheming and manipulating for a

morsel of food longing for Mother. The women’s and men’s camps were

separated by the dense jungle and large green forest trees.

Towering watch towers circled in the midst of the two camps. The dense

jungle and isolation made it even impossible for even most bravest to

smuggle food, notes, and medicine.

One day, quite suddenly, khaki-colored Japanese Army blankets arrived for

the sick.The make shift hospital lay at the lowest point of the rubber

plantation, and it was never touched by the sun and was always dank and

musty.

The Japanese camp commander stood on a table and announced in Malay,

“Perang habis." The war is over.

Mother heard the bellow of the commandant and shivered hoping

it was only a dream. The ape rattled his cage jumped and kicked

letting out a high-pitched grated cry and screamed.

“That is a good sign, shaking the cage. He wants freedom, too.” Wilhelm thought.

The commandant whistled his soldiers and armed with their razor

shaper bayonets departed from the camp. Wilhelm walked to the

cage and saw a key glistening in the sun. He walked to the cage

and opened the cage. The ape looked a him as he placed the key

and turned the lock.

“Now, you are free. Like us.“ said Wilhelm.

The ape held his composure and when the cage was opened he

leaped out passing prisoners. The ape departed into the jungle,

and when the sun hid behind the banyan tree a loud scream was

heard. Wilhelm climbed a coconut tree, and was led to the

direction of the scream. He saw the ape hovering. The neck of

the commandant hung on his shoulders, and his brain split and

bursted like confetti on the sprawled trunk of the Banyan Tree.

The ape scoped up the strings and ate them and smacked his

chops. Than he fetched the commandant, dragged him to the

camp, and departed into the jungle and beated his breast in

triumph. The women

soared with joy, and sang, “The Wilhelmus” and the “God save

the King.”

A man framed like a skeleton sprinted and held a linen cloth, and

with a bamboo stick dipped in the commandant flowing blood.

The man took the bloodied stick and ran to the guardhouse and

struck the red ball.

Father arrived with other men bringing sugar, butter, and rice.

Medicine for malaria, inflatable rings for bedridden patients. For

many months, the worst dysentery crises, the camp hospital had

only one.

Spouses were united and looked at each other. When the

husband would embrace his wife she didn’t know whether to

laugh or cry. How dreadful both looked. Children dressed in the

last remaining or quickly made refinery or in borrowed clothes,

shied away when they saw the bearded scarecrows who were

introduced as their fathers.

Father sat by mother’s bed space holding her hand. Mother

became hysterical. She thought the man was a Jap and about to

harm mother.

“Mother, it is Julius,” Wilhelm whispered holding Ernestine by

her hand.

“Leny, the war is over. I’ll take care of Wilhelm and Ernestine.

You rest.”

Father gave mother quinine medicine. Father took several large

leaves from a elephant tree and tied the ears to a bamboo making

a van. He would wave the van back and forth comforting mother

wiping her face and arms throughout the quinine treatment until

her fever mitigated substantially.

Another man came in bearing a Quaker Oats tin filled with boiled

liver.

“This should be good her jaundice. She appears fine.” the man

gave the tin can to father.

“But where are the Allies? “ asked mother.

A woman suffered with dysentery smiled joyfully.

“No soldiers has stormed the gate yet. My mind is picturing our

liberation.

Marching men through the camp with flying colors shouting.”

“Go on.” said mother.

“Cheer up, girls, your ordeal is over. We’ve come to take you

away.”

Day after day nothing happened. The women still lived squalid

vermin infested camp. Mother still had to cook in sooty drums,

although father came to help her. Father took Wilhelm and men

in the camp daily to hunt in the jungle to add meat in the rice.

Father made a bamboo spear for Wilhelm and together in a group

hunt for snakes. The young men would catch frogs and snails.

Father and the men gathered hundreds of bamboo sticks and

placed them on top of a stone pit.

Thousands of stars would blanket the night, and the watchmen

could hear orange colored apes swing on the limbs of the trees.

The next day, Father arrived with other men bringing sugar,

butter, and rice.

Medicine for malaria, inflatable rings for bedridden patients. For

many months, the worst dysentery crises, the camp hospital had

only one.

The camp gathered bamboo and placed them on top of a stone pit ready to

be lit. Day after day nothing happened, and at night no hovering

helicopters and transport planes graced twinkling stars in the sky.

Food continued to keep coming from hunting in the jungle.

Wilhelm’s task was retrieving coconuts , and one day a huge,

light grey four engine plane hovered the area.

Wilhelm shouted, “ A plane, a plane.”

The camp immediately lit the bamboo and Father saw the

markings of red, white, and blue.

“Liberator.” Wilhelm reached his arms.

Immediately unforgettable food fell from the sky on bright orange

parachutes over the women’s camp.

Every one who was not ill went to middle of the camp and heard

the rapping and tapping of rotating blades hovering about.

“A Dutch aero plane is flying over our camp,” Mother gasped.

Mother and the women waved at the pilot and he waved back,

this was the sign the camp had been waiting for so long,

“No shooting from the Japanese anti-aircraft guns side,” shouted

a woman.

And then all of a sudden a second miracle happened, hundreds of

pamphlets were falling down. Wilhelm started running and was

so lucky to receive one right into his hands.

Wilhelm gave the pamphlet to mother so that she could read it

first, she looked so happy.

The leaflets was written in English and Dutch. Scribbled in

gothic handwriting that the war was over, and the camp was

difficult to find and to be in good spirit until transport planes and

trucks arrive.

“Enjoy the home made baked bread with butter.” Father read the

leaflet.

That afternoon all the men, women, and children ate slices of

buttered bread.

Butter poured over the bread, and there was enough to feed an

army of ants.

About two days later the Ghurka's , the soldiers from Nepal who

served in the British army, came to protect the camp. Father said

that the Ghurka's were the best British Soldiers. The natives

feared the Ghurka’s. On the third day turban clad Sikhs from

India arrived as well. The Sikhs brought corned beef, biscuits,

chocolates, cigarettes, milk powdered, sugar, coffee, and soap.

Mother and several ladies took the parachutes and made clothes

for the children and for themselves. Mother made a beautiful

blouse for Ernestine. She has grown in three and one half years.

The Ghurka’s spared the fate of some of the other internment

camps as they waited month after month in their squalid camps

for repatriation. Women and children, in camps were murdered

by young extremist Indonesian nationalist before the Ghurka’s

arrived. The Ghurka earned their reputation as fierce warriors

scoping the extremist and beheading them with their machetes,

and the distinguished Sikhs as the three wise men bearing gifts of

gold, myrrh, frankincense, and good tidings of peace.

The Aussie’s were the first to leave. The Australian Air Force

flew them to Singapore. The British non-sick internees, as well as

some of the Dutch, were also airlifted to Singapore. Other Dutch,

mainly former residents of South Sumatra were evacuated by

train to Palembang and lodged in houses. Some flew to Batavia

on the island of Java. Father chose the latter.

A very young, pink cheeked English soldier who materialized

from somewhere.

“Ere you go,” he said and lifted mother up onto the train with

Wilhelm and Ernestine.

“Feathery light you are, dearie.” the soldier said.

Father, Mother, Wilhelm, and Ernestine rode the train to

Palembang where a plane was waiting at a small airfield. Right

under the cockpit were painted in white a pecking swan with

spread wings and the letters RAPWI.

These stood for Recovery of Allied Prisoners of War and

Internees.

A few days passed before boarding the transport plane Father

and mother acquired a wardrobe. At the RAPWI clothing center

father and mother were issued surplus khaki colored down to the

bra. Father hankered for lively clothes and forayed into the

streets,where Indians sold father brightly colored materials, and

mother took the material to a Chinese tailor. The tailor was

impressed by father’s Chinese. The money for these purchases

was handed to father and mother by a Dutch representative of

the BPM who had been given instructions by the head of the

office in The Hague “to take care of our people.”

The representative learned soon that father was an linguist and

had for decades employed by the Dutch Government.

The representative checked father’s credentials and

appointed him as his assistance until formal repatriation was

arranged.

Mother told a few women of her camp experience. Mother said it

was easy to make a coat disappear and use the material for

others in the camp.

Mother would swap part of a coat for cotton to make a dress, so

that she didn’t have to parade in front of the Japs in shorts.

“Were shall I go now?” asked Mother when she arrived in

Palembang.

“My home in Pekanbaru is gone, not to far from here. I think the

Allies bombed it when they retook the island. So nothing is to be

salvaged there.” cried mother.

“Marry me, We’ll live in Batavia. I have an assignment

waiting. The government need a camp commadant. It is on

Kramat street, apparently a huge place where Dutch and

Indo's are protected from young radicals. The natives called it,

"bersiap" freedom from colonialism. Killing everything that is

white or mixed. Dutch or Indo's. Once the radicals are

controlled the government promised a leading

position as a administrator of libraries and a colonial house

wrapped with a veranda. The Japs burned all the books. We will

have a good future here."

“I don’t know about love. I can't feel anything. It would not be

fair to marry you.”

“Love, will come. Marry me. I’ll take care of you and the

children. I promise. When I saw you holding Ernestine and

Wilhelm tucking at your sarong, I loved you from that moment.”

Father kissed her on her cheek.

"Can you find my mother and little sister? They are

somewhere on Java, hopefully in Batavia. I have to find my

mother and little sister, Liz. My brother Meno and Eddie." Meno

was her favorite. I don't know if Eddie survived facing

submarines and perfect storms on the Pacific Ocean infested by

sharks and Japs."

"I'll check with the authorities. I'll do my best locating your mom,

sister, and brothers. Why did you not tell me about your mom

and siblings?"

"I always thought of them, in secret."

Mother glanced at Father and saw Ernestine and Wilhem; their

bodies growing more skeleton like every day. The complete

absence of schooling, and medical care had taken a heavy

toll. She had no choice but to team up with Father and

asked, "when, when will it all end?"

"Camp Kramat, will we have to wait long for the kitchen

personnel to show up with their buckets of camp "food?" Will the

food consist primarily of gluelike porridge and some bread or a

bowl of over cooked rice? Will we sleep on bed-bud infested

mattresses on the floor? How about the ticks visible on the wall

or worst of all the lice in every fold of our clothing? Will the

camp have electricity and water?"

"I promise I'll do my best. We have to protect the population

until the government control the islands. And for those who want

to leave can go to Holland. I don't want to go back. It is cold,

small, and white. And as an Indo, you are not welcome."

"Most Indo's will go because the natives want them out.

Anything white is destined evil. I am not welcome in my country

or your country. Who will accept a mixed race of Swiss and

Indo?"

"The natives are smart. Everytime you speak your words take

hold like glue because they can't believe how fluent and

hospitible you are. They don't see you as a cheese-head but

like them, a salty-peanut

"If we find my relatives can they stay with us at Kramat?"

"Yes, I'll do my best."

Meditation
The inner-circle of the man with the Meinkempf look soon meet its fate with a bend. After his thin tall body is wrapped in white the people shout the win on the road of Damascus. A harvest planted plenty with protest, and persistence will sprout new blades of dreams and inspirations.

Loud speaker is modern technology and not used by Prophet Mohammad.

MeditationThe inner-circle of the man with the Meinkempf look soon meet its fate with a bend. After his thin tall body is wrapped in white the people shout the win on the road of Damascus. A harvest planted plenty with protest, and persistence will sprout new blades of dreams and inspirations.

Loud speaker is modern technology and not used by Prophet Mohammad.

Meditation
The inner-circle of the man with the Meinkempf look soon meet its fate with a bend. After his thin tall body is wrapped in white the people shout the win on the road of Damascus. A harvest planted plenty with protest, and persistence will sprout new blades of dreams and inspirations.