When the door of the cell clanged shut and the rattle of keys faded to the sound of bolts slotting into their notches the noise resounded and bounced off the stained grey walls of the prison cubicle and into my brain.
Panic bile rose to my throat and I shivered feeling chilled as I would those weeks, months and years afterwards to come. Winter, summer, spring I was continually cold a trembling cold that penetrated its fingers into my very bones and numbed my soul.
Life in the prison was routine. Up at 6, line up, breakfast of soggy bread and weak coffee, work an 8 hour day, five days a week in the penitentiary’s industrial laundry processing linen with 50 other prisoners.
The roughness of the obligatory orange jumpsuit rubbed my skin raw in tender places; I had permanent excema and the white cotton underwear provided no thought for femininity. Womanly shapes disappeared without underwires in bras, forbidden for security purposes and delicate female shapes became straight up and down mummy likenesses. My hair was cut short, no make up and femaleness was wiped out. Our identity distressed and torn like an animal just after a hunt. The wretchedness of it all overwhelmed and sunk me into dark despair.
In the workshop the noise was unbearable and the steam heat clogged up the air, became oppressive as I ironed sheets and towels day in and day out. The grinding routine, squabbling, jealously, disputes between inmates. And I was in for life.
True, I had tried to rob a bank and yes, unfortunately my finger had hit the trigger on the gun by mistake and wasn’t it unlucky that the lady in the red coat was in the way when I fired. Jailed for life and it wasn’t my fault. No, not really my fault just what you would call a poor life decision. At the last minute the boyfriend had pushed a gun into my hands just before we entered the bank - thinking it was a dummy gun so I had used it as a tactic to distract the bank teller; then sadly realised it wasn’t made of plastic as I watched the blood patch expanding quickly on the woman’s chest wound. My then fiancé escaped hearing the gunshot and was now probably enjoying life with a family and friends doing the things that I was depraved of.
One night the roommate was already on her bunk snoring so loud that a train wouldn’t wake her. Locked in at 8 pm and a whole night before me. One electric light hanging by a thread in the centre of the cell slightly swinging in the draft from the high window sent monster like shapes on the walls. I was lonely. Crushingly lonely, sitting in a big grey box locked up with myself and all the mistakes and shitty choices and nothing to distract me from the fact that I put myself there.
Those evenings lying on my back in the lumpy bed it started: the thinking, dreaming, planning and wishing went round and round in my head preventing sleep but then I dreamt of when I would get out … it started with the same thoughts every night - a walk in a forest - stroking my dog - kissing my child and dressing up in real clothes. Putting on perfume, make up and silky panties. Wearing a skirt, taking a shower in hot hot water with strawberry soap and washing, scrubbing forever to eliminate that acrid smell of prison off my skin. I imagined all these things - smelt the relief of freedom and it helped me to survive just another day.
In my dreams after discharge, I would open a café on a corner street - decorate it with green plants and yellow walls. Let the sunshine in and greet my customers with a smile every day … “A fresh start” was all I asked for.
Annemarie contribution:
A
Fresh Start
All along the canal the villagers were out
for a stroll after the church service. The blue sky, the three windmills and several barges were reflected in the
still dark waters. Today was the one day
there was no work for many villagers; it was a day of prayer and leisure with
only the majestic sails of the windmills working slowly, groaning in the gentle
breeze.
Jacob walked along the canal path
considering his future. Three years ago his father, a butcher, had decided it
was time for young Jacob, the eldest of three sons to start work, also as a
butcher. Jacob, quiet and intelligent,
had no desire to spend his life slaughtering and selling bloody lumps of animal
flesh. His sole wish had been to continue his schooling and eventually become a
teacher. After a fearful row he was put out of the family home with just a
small suitcase of clothes and his few possessions. It was not so easy In 1916 to
find other work in his home village. He was, however, fortunate enough to find
lodgings with his best friend's family in Edam and so continue at school. He
repaid their kindness by working for them in his free time but now he had
finished his schooling and on this Sunday he was sitting on the sluice gate pondering his future.
From the direction of the town centre two
young women walked along the towpath lifting their long, loose straight skirts to avoid puddles. They were both
wearing their Sunday best having been to St. Nicholas church in the morning.
Neelie loved her life in Edam still living at home the eldest of three sisters and two brothers. She had
been forced to leave school at the age of twelve although she had pleaded with
her father to continue with her education.
" Now, child, if someone comes into
the bakery and buys 3 loaves worth 1 guilder 9 cents how much change will you
give them from a 5 guilder note? " he had asked all those years ago.
" Oh, Papa, that's easy - 3 guilders
91 cents," Neelie had replied immediately.
"Well then, child you have no further
need of school; you can help old Oma Box in the house and in the afternoons you can work in the bakery
with your brothers."
And
so she had until she found work in the pharmacy shop where her friend also worked.
Sunday meant a bit of freedom, promenading
along the canal in their best clothes, not in the skirts and coloured aprons
and lace caps still worn by many of the older women of Edam and Volendam.
The two young women neared the young man,
sitting pensively by the lock and Neeltje giggled to her friend,
"What a handsome chap! Who do you
think he is looking so lost in thought. Hey, watch me!"
and she carefully let go of her lace
handkerchief which fluttered gently, landing in front of Jacob and the two girls continued
on their way. Jacob couldn't fail to see
it; he picked it up and followed after the giggling girls.
"I believe one of you has lost her
handkerchief, " he said offering it
to the girls.
"Oh, how kind and it’s my prettiest
one. You must let us treat you to a coffee and tell us why you looked so sad
and lonely sitting on the sluice gate," laughed Neelie.
Jacob and Neelie, both 18 years old, seemed
to understand one another from the start and they continued to meet every
Sunday after church. After a while with her father's approval they became
engaged. Jacob divulged his dream of becoming a teacher but how unlikely it was
as he had no money and it would take several years.
"Well, you listen to me, "
replied Neelie, "I live at home, I help a lot at home and I work in the
pharmacy so I have been able to save money. We get on very well and I would
really like to help you with your dream. I am going to give you the money and
whatever else I earn, to help you fulfil your dream and I won't take 'no' for
an answer. In return you can help me improve my reading."
It was another five years before Jacob
qualified and after a six year engagement they married in the old church of St
Nicolas in the middle of old Edam. A few years later, after obtaining his
headmaster's certificate in Amsterdam they
moved to a village along the Zuiderzee where the experimental reclamation of
the inland sea was being constructed . It was here, and now with a toddler and
young baby, that Jacob contracted an illness which left him unable to speak.
His young wife was terrified he would lose his job - after all what good is a
teacher who can't speak and how would he then support his family? Every day
they waited with trepidation expecting the authorities to stand him down
until one day Neelie saw an
advertisement in the newspaper:
'Wanted
- teachers willing to take the opportunity of a lifetime. Experience a very
different life and teach in our colonial
outposts in Indonesia.'
"Jacob, Jacob , look at this. It may be just the
answer. We could make a fresh start somewhere warm and it might cure whatever
is wrong with you. Nobody here seems to
know what to do so it cannot be worse. And what fun to try something
different!"
Neelie was full of enthusiasm and hope
although it took a little more persuasion for her gentle, quiet husband but in
1930, having said tearful goodbyes to her beloved sisters and brothers, Neelie,
Jacob and their young family embarked on board 'Koningen der Nederlanden,’ on
sea voyage halfway round the world, where Jacob took up his post as headmaster
of a school on a Moluccan island. Neelie and their now three children never tired of the gorgeous beaches,
so-called sea-gardens or the blue mountains beyond the bay. Later in Temangoeng, 'high in the Javanese
mountains the children grew up hearing their mother sing from pure happiness,
relishing the splendour of nature, the six high mountains surrounding the
valley, the ravines, the perpetually smoking volcano Morapi.'* Her husband's voice was fine again and their
life was idyllic.
One day when Jacob was at home alone a
salesman dressed in his dark European suit and just recently off the ship from
Amsterdam, called to enquire the way to the traders in the town. He was hot and
tired, his face sunburned and sweating from the unaccustomed sun and he was
carrying a small leather case, gripping it tightly.
" Come in and sit down. You look
exhausted and I am about to have lunch. How much better to enjoy it in the
company of a stranger. Please join me, " invited Jacob.
After their meal and after hearing details
of the voyage Jacob said to the man,
" Well, I have heard about your
voyage, but you haven't told me what is in the case, what you are hoping to
trade."
The trader
opened up his case to reveal an effervescence of sparkling from rows of
diamonds.
" Ja, it is my first trip out east so I
am finding my way, " and he was about close the case when Jacob laid a
hand on the lid.
" Stop, sir. That big diamond, the one
with the yellow light, nestling by itself in the corner - how much would a
diamond as big as that cost? I would like to buy it."
"Well, it is the finest I have but you
have been so hospitable and treated me so civilly I can do a very good price.
You will, after all, be my first customer."
When Neelie arrived home with the children
she found in the middle of the table a beautiful, small leather box and propped up
against it a note inscribed:
'For all those years you waited and helped
me get my teaching degree. Thank you.’
Opening the box she blinked at the beautiful diamond
winking back at her.
PS. That same diamond was buried in broad
daylight, alongside other precious objects, in front of the Japanese guards
during the family's wartime imprisonment and retrieved in Autumn 1945 by my 12
yr old uncle with the help and protection of a 3 British soldiers.
This a story for my daughter, Suzi who will
be the next owner of the diamond and more important of a wonderful love story.
+ Quoted from my Uncle Just , Neelie’s
eldest son.
