Evelijn Veere descendants weigh in…
Imagine just learning that your grandfather survived malnutrition, every kind of vermin you can name, recurring dysentery, and was subject to abuse at the whim of cruel captors–all before he was seven years old. Imagine looking at this beloved Opa–your granddad–and knowing that he was targeted for death, along with his sisters and aunt, as they trekked through the bush and jungle. This is what the family of René Evelynveer (Anglicized spelling) is learning, through End the Silence, the story that René’s sister has told.
René’s family is on a quest now, to learn this part of their family history. And there are oh, so many more out there, descendants of the Dutch and Indo people who lived in the ill-fated Dutch East Indies and who left when it became Indonesia–400,000 displaced Dutch/Indos. They all had stories. To truly end the silence, we need to hear them all. There are many more grandchildren out there, like René’s, who need to hear the truth of their courageous heritage.
Watch the program.
I am living in the Netherlands and my grandfather was taken prisoner by the Japanese and taken to Birma. He survived just as my grandmother and their 5 children. My father was their youngest and just a baby and toddler in the war. His whole childhood was demolisched by the war. He had so little to eat in his childhood that he stayed weak his whole life. He came to Holland when he was 16, made my mam pregnant and was a father of 3 children by 23. His whole life my mam discriminated him and hated everything that came from Indonesia. Including me because I told everyone that I had come with my father on the big boat from Indonesia… When I was 6 I understood that that was impossible. My father passed away when he was only 66. His oldest brother and sister passed away years and years before him. Now only the two youngest sisters remain but they still don’t wanna talk about the war. Or their time in Indonesia. If I could read story’s about others it would help me with al my pain and sorrows aboput the lost life of my father. I know his best friend from Indonesia and he promised me to tell some stories about their childhood but he can’t. His thoughts stay behind in his throat. The silence will be forever and the suffering and wondering to.
Oh my, Mr. Hillsland, I hope through wonderful organizations like the Dutch-Indo Community and the Indo Project, you can find someone who knew your father during those terrible years and can tell you what you need to know. This is the tragedy of silence, is it not?
My name is Anit Loth Stricker I am one of seven children born to Eugene O. L. Loth. and Tjinlong Klai Tjom Phoe Sri (Mary Loth). My dad was a Japanese prisoner of war for three and a half years in Thailand during WWII. He worked on the railroad from Thailand(Siam) toBurma.There is a lot of history there unfortunately my dad never wrote about his experiences during the war but talked about his experiences to my brothers and sisters that lived closed by in the few years before he passed. last year in August of 2009 at the age of 89.My sister Suze(susie) who lived with him and took care of him told me about the experience he lived through while being in the concentration camp. He told her of how he saw his stepdad’s execution (they beheaded him) and how in humane the Japenese treated their P.O.W. The war was over in August of 1945 and my dad became a ex P.O.W in 1946. My parents got married later in 1946 and went to Holland for his sick leave. In 1948 they went to the Netherlands East Indie (now Indonesia) In 1952 they went back to Holland and in July of 1960 our family moved to the US. My dad wanted his children to have a better education.
Maybe you and your siblings can write some of those experience he told about, on his behalf. What a meaningful way to honor him, to be able to pass those stories on.
Within the past two years, my Oma has been telling me stories about when she was a little girl in concentration camps in Indonesia. She had told me about how her a few other kids had stolen corn and the people who watch over the camp came and checked for the corn thieves. She told me that she had prayed to God that he didn’t catch her because earlier that week they had made an example of a man who had been caught stealing by injuring his hands really bad in front of everyone. She said that she laid down in bed and acted her best as if she was asleep with the corn in bed with her. The man left her room and the next day she went and threw the corn into the river so she wouldn’t get caught.
Not only have I heard stories from her but I had attended a seminar where they had a video of what it was like for those who had left Indonesia and went to the Netherlands. I found it very interesting just as I found my Oma’s stories interesting. I would love to hear more stories.
A lot of Ilse’s story has to do with hunger and foraging for food. She says she learned that anything that crawls, you can eat. You bring up another phase of the Indo story–repatriation. We would love to hear about those experiences, too.
My family also went into Japanese concentration camps on Java in Bandoeng. My parents have shared those experiences with us children over the years and so canI relate to the survival of those who endured this imprisonment. I hope that you will get a good publisher who understands the value you are providing to all those descendants who lived through this period via the memory of our elders. I wish you the very best in your book project and getting to the right distribution channels and audience.
Thanks, Paul. Ilse, by the way, was born in Bandoeng.
There are many Indos in America. I am one of them. I live in San Antonio, Texas where even here, there are a few, a very few. When I was younger, we lived in Houston where there were many Dutch, Indos, and Dutch who had lived in Indonesia when the Japanese invaded. I knew a number of them, including, of course, those who were imprisoned by the horribly cruel Japanese. Fortunately, my parents were in Holland at the time, but they had to live under the German occupation which was as bad. Instead of fighting the Japanese, my father joined the underground in Holland and fought the Germans, a very dangerous time for all of us. I was born in the last 6 months of the war, a time of tremendous starvation. How my family managed it, I do not know.
We came to the states in the 50s. I and my four brothers were all educated here. Even though I am one, I never think of myself as an Indo. I think of myself simply as an American. I can understand, read and speak a bit of Dutch and have relatives in Holland and Belgium that we have visited.
Such a good point you make, Ray. Ilse tells me she is so grateful to be an American. Funny about us Americans, though–for most of us, our roots began someplace else. That place no longer exists for the Dutch/Indos. Thank heaven, then, for the stories and for organizations like The Indo Project and the Dutch-Indonesian Community that are dedicated to keeping the culture alive.