Hiding in Friesland in 1943
Jews were not allowed out of Amsterdam, were not allowed on public transport, in public parks,
One day, in late '43, Dad took me to see Dries. He was hiding in a small, dark room upstairs in one of the older parts of Amsterdam. Dries was so pleased to see us. I've never seen him since. Not in real life that is, but I've never stopped seeing him, sitting there in that dark room, month after month.
In the end, he didn't make it either. In real life, the nazis killed him on the 31st of March '44.
Some time during the summer of '43 Mum and Dad thought it better if I disappeared again. I had been in hiding before, in Edam, but this time I went much further away.
Jews were not allowed out of Amsterdam, were not allowed on public transport, in public parks, or in many of the shops, and were forced to wear a big yellow star with the word Jew in mock Hebrew printed on it. Jews could be spotted from way off. So, Dad carefully took his star off his jacket and we got onto the train going north. First to Alkmaar, where we changed trains to the port of Enkhuizen and onto the night boat to Friesland. A small steamer, seaworthy enough, but very basic: just a single cabin with wooden seats. I thought it was marvelous! The next morning another train ride and finally a long way by bus to a small village, Haulerwijk.
'Meet my friends, Eb and Freerk Huizinga,' Dad said. I got to know them as Uncle Eb and Uncle Freerk, and was told to call their parents Pake and Beppe, Friesian for Granddad and Grandma. Dad went straight back again, no point in taking more risk than he had to.
Yes, they were the same people who had been guards in Dad's concentration camp. Very dangerous for them, for their whole family actually, but they insisted. Mum and Dad must have felt very uncomfortable about it, but what choice did we have?
Pake and Beppe have long since died of old age and so has Uncle Freerk. Uncle Eb is in his nineties now. I still have contact with him.
They are very special people. Very special.'