Roosje Steenhart – Drukker’s speech

Mr. Hans Nieuwland,
Distinguished guests,
Ladies and Gentlemen,

Receiving the book “ The shoes of a foundling” a shiver went through me.

I suppose Izi Marmur, the graphic designer of the cover, had in mind, all the Jewish blood and tears that had been shed through the ages.  Human lives destroyed just because they were Jewish.

The yellow star with the “J” on it ( looking like a character of our Alef/Bet ) that the Jews in Holland had to wear in the Second World War, refers back to the yellow patch, which the Jews in the ghettos of the past had to wear.  That patch was meant to remind everybody, too, of the yellow pestilence flag, because didn’t the populace believe that the cause of any pestilence was of course, the Jews?
This star, our Magen David, has never failed to incite fear and hatred in bigoted minds.
In April 1933, one could already read in the paper of the German Zionist the defiant statemeent: Traget den Gelben Fleck mit stolz!  (Carry your yellow patch with pride)
After the Second World War, for a long time, it was not the done thing to wear a Magen David, but after the proclamation of our own state of Israel, it became the vogue.
I got my Magen David, a very small one, from Bob, my husband and I wear it with pride.
That’s who I am and what I am!

Today we commemorate Kristallnacht, the precursor of the most terrible persecution of the Jews.It led directly to die Endlosung and the Shoah, that finally cost the lives of six million Jews. It will stay in our minds, in our memories, a happening not possible to grasp.

Amsterdam too, also had, in January 1941 such a Kristallnacht.  Waterloo square, at that time was a big Jewish and very famous market. The Germans wanted all the Jews of Holland crammed into this area. They moved all the non-Jews, the “ Aryans”, out  and created the so-called Jewish Quarter, but actually a ghetto.
The NSB group, the national Socialist Group was comprised of Dutch people who out of conviction and anti-Semitic ideas too, joined the German domination. This NSB group had their own armed forces and supported by the German Grune Polizei, they went into the Jewish Quarter in Amsterdam and smashed all the windows and doors of shops and houses, and threw glasses, dinner-sets and shop-window-displays on the street. They stole all they could lay their hands on.

Abel Herzberg, the great writer of the Chronicle of the Jewish persecution, wrote about this happening: “World history always smashes the windows of the Jews!”
The population of Amsterdam heard the sound of broken glass, and reacted with the words:
“ This we don’t want to accept. OK, we know they are just Jews, but they belong to the population of Amsterdam, and those German Polizei in their grey uniforms with their beautiful boots stand for Berlin and Hamburg. They are the strangers. Not the Jews!”
A street-boy wrote on an Amsterdam wall:
   “ Keep your German hands off our rotten Jews!”
I hope you will forgive for speaking so openly about this, but even today, it’s impossible for me to understand how all these things could have happened.

TheJewish community in Holland had become very well integrated over three hundred years or more. However, in spite of being an integral part of the life and economy of Holland, it became clear that, when things got tough, we were of no importance at all.
From the 140.000 Dutch Jews about 110.000 were murdered in the gas chambers. Among them a great part of my own family. Still today, I wonder why my family went so easily to Poland and above all, how they went! Did they know what was hanging over their heads? Didn’t they have any idea what could happen?
What were the last thoughts of my grandparents, my aunts, my uncles and cousins as they entered the gas chambers?

Abel Herzberg wrote about this in his book “ The Chronicle of the Jewish Persecution” (Kroniek der Jodenvervolging): “ They didn’t cry.
Just those who stayed behind did cry. They didn’t rebel and they comforted each other. They were ordinary people just like you and me!”
A lot of the Dutch population, as we are now aware, saw all these things happen. Too many of them looked away! But now, after so many years, because so many personal stories are being told and written down, we know that for many Jewish people, the doors stayed shut, especially for those who didn’t have the money to pay for a hiding place, or if they didn’t have close connections with non-Jews. We also know by now, that many people were exploited during their years of hiding. After the war, those who survived, like my mother, were not able to reclaim the family home, or ask this neighbour  for the furniture they had appropriated, or the clothing that neighbour was seen wearing. It was a bitter realisation that not everybody welcomed us back. The long- expected peace in Holland came on the 5^th of May 1945.
However the scars are still there. You cannot  sweep away the historic facts of all these events. Into the genes of the Jewish survivors there is introduced a new extra code, a code of suspicion and caution.

After the war, when Jews came back out of their hiding places, or out of the camps, the Dutch people didn’t welcome them. In a big city as Amsterdam, but also in villages like Zandvoort, where I lived after the war, the emptiness of so many houses, the public sales of so much beautiful furniture, accentuated the absence of all the deported and murdered Jews! A lot of the Dutch population felt their shortcoming and for sure, that was not a pleasant feeling They remembered, very well, the lootings, the robberies, the betrayals, or just that they looked  the other way. After the war, nobody wanted to be reminded of all this. Mostly they didn’t want to give back the belongings, the household goods, which they should have preserved, for us.
Only one year after the war, when I was six years old, I was already being  jeered at as a “rotten Jew”!
We all know how dearly everybody wants to remember Holland as the country with the so often commemorated great resistance! I know these words sounds very harsh, but please let’s open our eyes and see the reality of that time and please… let’s not flatter those who may not deserve it.  I can’t forget the reality that more Jewish people were murdered proportionally in Holland than in any other European country. No, these pages of our Dutch history are certainly not the most beautiful ones!
Just some weeks ago, the Dutch railway  company apologized for their co-operation in all the deportations.
Ies Lipschitz, a famous historian, calls this period so very touchingly “ the small Shoah”!
These were the years of emptiness, that terrible emptiness: The long days, the long weeks and the years of waiting and hoping that beloved ones would somehow come back. A waiting that ultimately ended in a never- ending grief. Nobody extended out a comforting hand!
But there is another side to the story. There were wonderful people like the parents of Mrs. Anne van Deurse, families who really did marvellous things out of conviction and they cannot be honored enough for it.

Baruch Hashem – Thank God, there were people who didn’t look the other way and opened their homes and their hearts.
The parents of Mrs. Anne van Deurse, Jacobus and Alida Verhave, were such people.
They belong among the best, among the righteous ones of the earth!
A Resistance cell made up of the students of the Amsterdam University arranged for my  ‘abandonment’ as a ‘foundling’ in September,1942. That accomplished, my mother found in the Verhave home, warm commiseration and much comfort; a safe place, a warm place. The two mothers became good friends. They supported each other in that very difficult time. Aly Verhave comforted my mother when she was crying, although I think, she didn’t know, she couldn’t know the complete background of my mother’s grief and fear. There is an old film showing them laughing together as well.
Of course, it was a very tragic event when Alida fell ill and died on June 8, 1944.The family broke up and my mother had to look again for another hiding place. She applied, under her false identity papers, as a housekeeper and lady-companion to a woman teacher of French. This teacher was a very intelligent and pleasant woman. My mother hated telling lies her whole life. She often told my sister and me how she wanted to tell her employer who she really was, but every time, a small voice inside warned her not to do so. After the liberation, when my mother finally could tell this lady that she was a hidden Jew, the teacher spoke the famous words: ” Ah, do you mean to tell me that I have been walking along the edge of an abyss all this time!” She never wanted to see my mother again.This was a complete shock for my mother. They had been such friends.

This book,  “The shoes of a Foundling” is the story of my life.
It’s a story about anti-Semitism and what this may cause.
It’s a story about emptiness and desperation.
However, in spite of all this, I still believe in miracles.
Isn’t it a miracle I’m standing here before you?
Isn’t it a miracle that, after fifty years, I met dear Anne with whom I can share the memories of our mothers and the memories of that terrible time?

And don’t let us ever forget as a Jewish people that
…We survived our slavery of 400 years in Egypt….
We survived our 40 years of roaming through the desert…
We came back from our Babylonian exile…
And in spite of the Hellenic and Roman dominations of Palestine…
In spite of being expelled from our country after the destruction of our Second Temple in 70 CE
In spite of all the crusaders and the pogroms in Russia, Poland and Europe,
In spite of the Inquisition…
Finally, yet importantly, in spite of Hitler and his satellites, we still are here!

We Jews wish to live so very much and we don’t have, and don’t accept, self-murderers and the so-called martyrdom.

We want with all our might to contribute to this world, to share our considerable contribution to medical science, economics, music and art. And in spite of all the negative events in our Jewish lives, we have to teach our children and grandchildren about our beautiful Jewish traditions. As well, as we ought to teach them to honor those people who really wanted to help us. We cannot honour those people enough!

In conclusion, I think it’s a very good thought of Makor and especially with the spirit of Julie Meadows, that people are encouraged to write down their history.
It’s necessary to perpetuate our personal story out of our own memories.
On Passover, as we sit at the seder table, we sing, every year, “L’dor va’dor” (from generation to generation) we are obliged to tell our sons and daughters our story!
Well, let’s tell them and most of all, let’s tell them that miracles can happen and let’s hope for the coming of the Messiah.
Let’s pray for a better world, a world with peace, with respect for each other and of course above all, standing here as a Jewish woman, survivor of the Second World War, please let our people live…

                               AM  ISRAEL CHAI