I also have only a few images of the retun. Because Typhyus had erupted and the railway had been largely destroyed, we were unable to leave immediately. We were finally taken to hunting lodge in army trucks by the French Red Cross. The Sudeten German name was Falckenau. I remember the dorm with spotless white bed linen. I was fascinated by the antlers on the walls.
From journey back I remember crossing the Rhine near Cologne. From the train, it seemed as if the train was only running on rails laid across the river. I was afraid they wouldn’t hold the weigth and we would crash into the Rhine. This turned out to be a Bailey bridge from the U.S. military. Cologne was in ruins, only the Dom was still standing. I can only remember this because my mother said this, not from my own observation.
The first place we arrived in Holland was camp Vught in the Philips department. I remember standing in line with two bowls for food. My mother was too weak to stand. Finally, via the Central Station of Amsterdam we arrived at last in the Haarlemmermeerstraat. Our house had since been occupied by others. We stood there with nothing but the clothes we were wearing. Family, house, possessions, everything was gone.
Because it was getting late and we had to sleep somewhere, we rang the doorbell at the neighbours, Ernst and Käthe Winter. He was Jewish. We could stay there for a while but not without compensation in return. My mother had to help with the housekeeping. When she once was laying on her bed, exhausted, she was chased out by Käthe Winter with the words: “Du faules Schwein”. (you lazy pig).
We wer certainly not welcome. There was no help, no support, no money, nothing. A year later a house came available in the Theophile de Bockstraat, however, completely worn out. The walls were bare, no carpets, no furniture. It seemed as if a fire had raged. Everthing looked scorched, but…. Finally privacy !
I remember having an apple and being overjoyed to wash it under our own tap. After four years, I was finally back home. Neighbors gave us a hotchpotch of furniture, but there was no money. My mother earnes some as a help from a home-seamstress, Mrs. Van Straaten. Pulling out basting-threads for 10 cents per garment.
Meanwhile, aunt Jeanne and aunt Juliette came to live with us. Jeanne came from Auschwitz via Sweden. Juliette went into hiding in Leiden. Her daughter Grace, who had gone into hiding in Drogeham in Friesland, was also picked up. Juliette and Grace were estranged from each other. Grace did not recognize her mother and only spoke Frisian.
In September I went to school, 2nd grade. I had taught myself to read and write in the camp. The first days I cried continuously to the great despair of Miss Everhardus. I remember that, despite my tears, I was fascinated by her bracelet, an amber-coloured band with all kinds of sea animals and plants. The kids spoke a language that I understood, but somehow contained a shared mysterious code I couldn’t decipher. I was not socialized at all. Not used to other children. My classmates had known each other for years. It was group 4, although of course it was not called like that. I have always kept that maladaptiveness, although I tried very hard not to show it. I already isolated myself in the crèche. When asked why I didn’t play with the other kids, I must have said then: “I am way too sad to play”. This feeling of life has never really disappeared, although I have always tried my best to counter this.
My mother, who was not very fond of the teaching staff, ran into one of my teachers on the street: Miss Zandee. According to her, I could get a 10 for everything, if I didn’t laugh that much. My mom replied: “let him get a 6 and smile”. It seems contradictory but sadness and a sense of cheerfulness have always merged with me, along with a desire for beauty. Maybe those properties of things saved me for the worst.
Some time later, my mother saw that an experienced manicure was requested from hairdresser Gravestein on the Amstelveenseweg. She immediately applied and bluffed herself into it. From there, she came into contact with the beautician training at Ria de Korte. She always wanted to be a paediatrician. This was of course completely different, but there were still some medical aspects.
The medical course was taught by Mrs. Egyedi, a Hungarian doctor, who had been with us in Theresienstadt. She was the mother of Kitty Egyedi, Anne Frank’s girlfriend. Actually, my mother was too weak to work. She had experienced hungry edema and suffered from pernicious anemia. Morover, due to neglected ear infection in the camp, she was deaf in one ear.
Mrs Egyedi saved her life when she collapsed at Ria de Korte, by immediately giving her the correct injections. She was always persistent and listened to all her customers, who remained loyal (and often befriended), when she started working for hersef in the early 1960s. From everything she had seen and experienced, she was able to say: “I’ve always had it right”! And on her deathbed she she said: “Oh well, I’ve been in tighter spots” .
Sources among others: after-war family correspondence, personal memories and oral stories by surviving family.