was pleased to see her. She looked a lot like Mama, and she always spoiled me because I was her god-daughter. She loved giving me nice things that Mama and Papa couldn’t afford. I quickly undid the bow, being careful not to tear the paper. Inside was a big ball of soft pale blue wool, a crochet hook, knitting needles and a pattern book. I thanked her and showed her my sewing box.
We sat down and Papa played his favourite record on the gramophone. We started to sing along to the song, “If I was a little white duck, swimming in the water.” Funny how that was Papa’s favourite song, as he hated being in water, except for his shower. He never went swimming, he never even put his feet in the water.
We sang some other songs. Then Willie said they’d rehearsed a special performance for my birthday. The four little ones sang a little Dutch song, dancing around the lounge-room. They were so cute, when they finished they bowed, and we all clapped. Their eyes beamed as they accepted the applause.
The afternoon flew by, and it wasn’t long before Aunty Rie had to leave to catch her tram and train home. She lived in Rotterdam, which was quite a distance to travel. With the weather getting quite cold and windy at this time of the year, she wanted to get home before dark.
As it was my birthday I didn’t have to help with any of the chores, so I went back upstairs; picked up my doll and sat on the chair.
I hugged her again, and closed my eyes, imagining Mama downstairs preparing my dinner. Although I had enjoyed the afternoon and was pleased with the cake and the presents, it felt strange. Not only because Mama wasn’t there, but because this new apartment did not feel like home.
I sat there for a while and remembered the day Mama and Papa had given me Dolly for my birthday. “This doll is special,” Mama had said. “She is black like Black Piet, who brought you to me.”
Mama told me many times I had been a present from Black Piet when I was born. For as long as I remembered my birthday was the first day of the Saint Nicholas season, which ends with a celebration on the fifth of December each year, with festive family parties when gifts and surprises are exchanged.
Between mid November and December five each child placed one shoe under the hearth or mantelpiece each night. If you’d been a good boy or girl, Saint Nicholas’s helper, Black Piet, came down the chimney and put a little gift in your shoe; usually a St. Nicholas biscuit called Taai Taai, or a lolly or chocolate of some sort.
However, if you’d been naughty you received nothing. We were told that if we’d been really bad Black Piet would take us away in his sack.
There were times I didn’t get caught being naughty by Papa or Mama, but Black Piet still put something in my shoe, so I thought he wasn’t very smart. As we were told that Saint Nicholas could see everything we did, Black Piet should have known I’d been naughty.
Mama used to tell me, “In 1947 I placed my shoe under the mantelpiece, and I must have been extra good that year because when I woke in the morning, there you were, peacefully asleep in my shoe.”
I could never get enough of this story and asked her to repeat it to me time and time again.
“Mama, if Black Piet brought me, how come I am not black?” I asked her. For some reason I always wanted to have dark skin.
“Well, because you are our girl. Although you are special because Black Piet brought you to us, you are not Black Piet’s baby.”
Mama had a different story for each of my brothers and sisters as to why they were special, but I loved my story best of all.
As I sat there cuddling my doll, I started crying again. I would never again be told by Mama that I was her special gift. I felt confused and ungrateful to everybody who had gone to so much trouble to make my birthday special. Life was just too complex at that moment, having to deal with all the changes.
Chapter 6
“Marijke, are you coming down for dinner?” Willie called from downstairs. “We’re all waiting for you.”
I wiped my eyes, put my doll back on the chair and went downstairs.
I joined my siblings around the table and Papa said grace, another family ritual. We always said our morning prayers together, grace before each meal and a prayer of thanks after each meal. We also said evening prayers on our knees, which usually consisted of the Rosary.
Aunty Jos put the big pot of rijstebrij (milk rice) on the table. We had big bowls, and Papa dished up the rice with a large ladle, a thick and rich milky mass. We were given a little dab of butter to spread over the top. This melted, creating a thin layer of yellow puddles, which was then covered with dark brown sugar, and the finishing touch was a sprinkling of cinnamon.
I loved this dish, not only for its sweet taste, but it actually satisfied me. I had a veracious appetite, and most days I didn’t feel full when we left the table.
I savoured every mouthful, and when Aunty Jos offered a second helping I gladly took it. On top of the cake we’d already had I was really full that night.
After dinner Willie and Ann helped Aunty Jos clear the table, do the dishes and clean the kitchen.
“I enjoyed sharing your birthday with you today Marijke. I’ll see you all tomorrow at eight o’clock.”
With that Aunty Jos kissed each of us goodbye, went downstairs where she kept her bike, and left.
“Okay everybody, we need to have a family discussion as to how these new arrangements are going to work,” Papa said.
“Aunty Jos and I made up a roster. I’ll put it on the wall in the kitchen so you can check if you’re not sure. But it hasn’t changed much since before, except now that you’re all a little older, you may have to do more than you used to do.” Papa spoke with authority. When Papa used this voice we knew better than to argue with him. He was the head of the household, and he was to be obeyed.
Before we went to the orphanage, whenever Mama was sick and at home, Papa used to wake me up early.
“Marijke, can you get up and help me cut the lunches? Mama is sick this morning, and you are the quickest and best at making sandwiches.”
This compliment worked every time, and as I was a born early riser, I proudly helped Papa cut the lunches. They’d be neatly lined up in their brown paper bags on the kitchen bench by the time everybody else got up.
Papa advised that from now on this would be one of my regular duties. Willie and Ann were to help the younger children get washed and dressed. All this had to be done before we sat down for breakfast. We had all our meals together, including breakfast.
Ann offered to undertake the ironing after school, as she enjoyed this chore, and used to do it when Mama was sick.
John and Arnold were upset that they also had some chores to do, as they considered there were enough girls around to undertake these jobs. But it was their job to get the table set and cleared for breakfast each morning. And of course, they had to make their own beds. Aunty Jos washed up the breakfast dishes once we’d gone to school and Papa had left for work.
“When you come home from school, if you have any homework, you always do that first,” Papa said. “Aunty Jos will ask for help if she needs any to prepare dinner. If she asks
