Name: 'Just his grave number'
Source: Letter correspondence between Miep from Indonesia (camp 8, Ambarawa) and Aa in the Netherlands (Dwingeloo) written on 25th september 1945
Description: Born in Indonesia (1932) my grandmother and her parents were sent to a Japanese labor camp during the Second World War. In the letter my greatgrandmother writes to her family two months before she and my grandmother were liberated. I am interested in how the events of World War II and colonial vocabulary are present in one letter.
Name: Banjoredjo
Source: Black and white photos of my grandmother, her parents and the Indonesian people who worked for them, taken on their plantation in Banjoredjo between 1936 and 1942
Description: I've edited black and white photos to colored photos. Making the past present.
Dear Aa,
I hope you all are well. We can write one letter, so I write you. Mia and I were interned on December 17th, 1942. We first sat in Malang. Then in a camp in Solo. Then two months in camp 6 in Ambarawa and now for 2 months in camp 8 in Ambarawa. We have suffered a lot of grief, of hunger, of sickness. Now we are fine, but Mia is in the hospital. She fell from a tree, brain and lung bruise.
I sent Lex a telegram: Jaap passed away. Everything had to be as short as possible. I hope he received it. On November 20th, 1942, Jaap was picked up in the morning to be interned. That was the last time I saw him. For Mia too.
In Tjimahi he died of dysentery. I only now know all that. After the capitulation, the lists of death messages arrived in the camps. In September Karel wrote to his wife: 'Jaap has already died, cause illness.' Twice a year we were allowed to write a few Malay words. That is all I knew about Jaap. Now I don't know much anymore, just his grave number.
It is still chaos here, but we have to eat and sell the clothes that we can still spare to buy some food. How the Japanese murdered us, beat us and then the Kempee, that was beastly.
Mia and I still have one briefcase with some clothes, that's all. If only Mia gets better now. It is sad that Jaap died all alone. In 1940 we moved to our country. Jaap worked hard for two years and managed to get everything done. All the money we put in here. Now everything has been taken from us.
What is left of the business? Some have been cut down, others are just given to the natives. No furniture left, nothing. Still, I will go back to Banjoredjo. Maybe there is still a photo album and then we will see what's next.
When my grandmother talked about her childhood in the Dutch East Indies and the beautiful nature, she talked about Tempo Doeloe - the good old days. This term was also used to describe the "friendly" society in the Dutch East Indies; a society with satisfied Dutch colonials and grateful Indonesians. Tempo Doeloe is a loaded term as we slowly learn more about the actual racial history that took place in the Dutch East Indies.
The two-sided nature of the term Tempo Doeloe refers to both my own discovery of my greatgrandparents owning a coffee plantation as well as the experience of the spectator. The public sees a idyllic image of a sea of flowers representing the coffeeflowers on the plantation, as it is looked back on as the friendly society in the Dutch East Indies. If you take a closer look you will notice each flower is cut out individually, representating labor and fragility. 'Without words, the past becomes palpable, almost painful' (Ruud)
The literal 'verbloemen' of the past
Name: Baboe Lie
Source: Notes of the conversation I had with my grandmother in which she talked about the beginning of the war in Indonesia
Description: Finding these photos and letters made me wonder whose letters I will never find. What is the perspective in the letters and photos that I have found and which perspective remains unexposed?
Aku ijik njagong nang njaba ing suket karo Mia nalika mobil tentara ditarik munggah. Prajurit Jepang mlumpat metu saka mobil lan mlaku mlebu omah kanthi nggawa bedhil. A sawetara menit mengko Jaap mlaku metu saka omah karo senapan ing bali, ngiring dening tentara Jepang. Prajurit liyane tetep jaga ing ngarep omah. Sadurunge aku sadhar, Mia wis ngetutake bapake menyang pabrik. Aku nguber dheweke, aku ora pengin kelangan dheweke. Aku nemokake dheweke ing lapangan pemutih, dheweke nyeluk aku: baboe Lie lan aku teka lan ngadeg ing sandhinge. Aku wis tau krungu baboe tembung sadurunge nganti aku teka kanggo karya kanggo kulawarga Walanda. Kita nonton prajurit mlaku ing kandhang pitik lan mangan endhog mentah. Miep wis gabung kita, kita loro njupuk Mia dening tangan. "Aja atine" ngandika Miep kita mlaku bali menyang omah.
Moen lan Itta isih ana ing omah, dheweke keweden banget. Sawise limalas menit Jaap ora bali durung lan senadyan tension ana palpable for everyone, Mia Miwiti kanggo njaluk bosen. Aku marang Mia buku werna, prajurit ing omah matur soko lan nuding menyang buku maringi warno. A sawetara menit mengko, kabeh prajurit ing ngarep omah ing Mia padha teken dheweke werna buku. Banjur padha rombeng lan kesel, padha mbokmenawa lanang negara enom. Sawetara wektu mengko Jaap bali menyang omah, sawise iku tetep meneng.
Rong sasi mengko Jaap nampa-up. Panjenenganipun tindak camp sampel - timer cekap lan nggawe Kebon sayur-sayuran. Nalika Jaap kiwa yard, Mia durung ngeculaké luh. Miep lan Mia padha diijini ngunjungi wong. Camp iki toko, wanita Landa teka kanggo turu ing omah kanggo ngunjungi lanang sing ing dina sabanjure. Kanggo dina pungkasan, galeri kebak saka kasur. Itta kerja lembur ing pawon, kabeh wanita pengin nggawa panganan kanggo diwenehake bojone.
Ora nganti sewulan mengko, ana truk liyane teka. Miep lan Mia diangkat. Aku ngisi tas karo dheweke karo Mia. Kertas lan potlot supaya dheweke bisa nggambar, klambi lan gambar wong tuwa. Nalika ngrangkul Mia, aku ngerti yen iki bakal dadi pungkasane aku nyekel dheweke. Jawa waved panji Japanese ing pinggir dalan lagi ndamel adoh. Kita tetep karo perusahaan, ora ngerti apa sing bakal dikarepake.
I was sitting outside on the grass with Mia when an army car pulled up. Japanese soldiers jumped out of the car and walked into the house with guns. A few minutes later Jaap walked out of the house with a rifle in his back, followed by the Japanese soldiers. Other soldiers kept watch in front of the house. Before I realised it, Mia had followed her father towards the factory. I went after her, I didn't want to lose sight of her. I found her at the bleaching field, she called me: Baboe Lie and I walked up and stood next to her. I had never heard of the word baboe until I came to work for a Dutch family. We watched soldiers walk into the chicken coop and eat the raw eggs. Miep had joined us, we both took Mia by the hand. "Never mind" said Miep as we walked back to the house.
Moen and Itta were still in the house, they were terrified. After fifteen minutes Jaap was not back yet and although the tension was palpable for everyone, Mia started to get bored. I gave Mia a coloring book, the soldier in the house shouted something and pointed to the coloring book. A few minutes later, all the soldiers were sitting in front of the house drawing in Mia her coloring books. They looked ragged and tired, they were probably young country boys. A few moments later Jaap returned to the house, after that it remained quiet.
Two months later Jaap received a call. He went to an self-sufficient camp with vegetable gardens. When he walked out of the yard, Mia didn't shed a tear. The only consolation was that Miep and Mia were allowed to visit him. The camp was nearby and other Dutch women came to sleep in the house to visit their husbands the next day. For days on end, the gallery was full of mattresses. Itta worked overtime in the kitchen since all the women wanted to bring food to give to their husbands.
It was less than a month later and another truck arrived. Miep and Mia were picked up. Together with Mia I filled a briefcase with some things. Paper and pencils so she could keep drawing, some clothes and pictures of her parents. As I hugged Mia goodbye I knew it would be the last time I held her. Javanese stood on the road waving Japanese flags as they were taken away. We were left at the company, no idea what to expect.
