My parents and all 4 children at Lake Bernard, summer of 1952
Born on March 29, 1947, I had a tumultuous childhood - let us call them the early grasshopper years. When I was born, my parents agreed that I was the sign they would survive, their joy after the second world war which took such a toll as my mother was in a concentration camp under the Japanese in the Dutch East Indies and my father was a representative of the Dutch and British Crown in Chungking, southern China. I became the symbol that my parents’ relationship was going to survive, or at least that was what I understood at the time through my nine year old sister Marianne.
By the time I was born, my father had already been appointed Ambassador for the Dutch Crown to Moscow. Two weeks after my birth, a man servant, Karel Vermeulen, accompanied my mother and carried me in a basket through Sweden and Finland to Moscow. It was a tumultuous time as the pushes for independence in the colonial world were becoming increasingly intense and successful. Having previously been a high-level administrator in the Dutch East Indies, in early 1948 my father became the Governor General for the Dutch government, handing over power to the new Indonesian government, which proclaimed independence in May 1949. A year after my birth, I was carried back from Russia to the Netherlands to live there peacefully.
In December 1948 my younger brother Gijs was born. Almost immediately after my mother went to join my father in Indonesia. My brother and I were left behind in the Netherlands to be looked after by one of my father’s sisters and by my sister Marianne.
After Indonesia declared independence, all Dutch administrators left and my father was eventually appointed as the Netherlands ambassador to Canada. He arrived in Ottawa with his whole family, including three year old me, now looked after by a surrogate mother, Wies van Oven. She left me in July, 1954 when we dropped her off at her parents in Driebergen, Netherland. Later in life, during at least 15 trips back to the Netherlands, I searched for her but in vain.
This childhood of mine created a very insecure young boy, generally unable to make friends but succeeding very well academically. Though living in an embassy, my loving mother tried to organize birthday parties for me but I never enjoyed them. I always felt alone even though some school mates tried to be friends. In 1954, aged 7 and no longer having a guardian, my father felt it important that my younger brother and I be enrolled at Ashbury boys’ private school across the street from the embassy residence. I think his goal was to encourage me to become more athletic and more of a man. The school curriculum included a cadet program, at which I failed miserably leaving me with some very painful memories. I was definitely a gangly young geek.
However, my time there was very short as my father was called back to the Netherlands in March 1957 and after 6 months there, he was posted to Australia as the ambassador for the Netherlands in Canberra. Part of his role was to help the Australian government with a future Papua-New Guinea, a partial Dutch colony at the time.
Unfortunately, on this new adventure, my parents became very busy. They brought three servants from the Netherlands with them to help run the household and look after my brother and I. Mieneke Smits, the young lady who was assigned to us, two early adolescent boys, tried hard to be our friend. She took us for bike rides and to pools where I started to learn how to become a good swimmer. I have no memory of my mother’s presence during this time but on Sundays my father taught me to be a good horseback rider, to play competitive tennis and he encouraged me to take up cross country running. He also doted on me, inviting me to accompany him on at least two business tours to towns across Eastern Australia.
My parents also registered me at the private, Ashbury-like, Canberra grammar school. However, by then and unbeknown to them, I was being labelled a faggot, called Mary and teased without mercy. My only saving grace was that I was always near the top of my class and could help other students with their homework. I also excelled at long distance running. In Canberra, I only had one boyfriend who was probably also gay but none of us could acknowledge that in the 1950s.
All friendships disappeared once again when my father was called back to the Netherlands in March, 1960. The grasshopper life continued.
Before I close the “chapter” on Australia, I was in wonder at the beauty of the country, its rivers, its mountains, its northern and southern beaches, places where I truly enjoyed myself, although always feeling very alone.
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