Stories

(Also read Andrea's personal story:  I like the term Warlovechild)

Dear people of the Warlovechild,

I will try to tell you how I came to know about the history of my father. As descibed in ‘stories’, I only knew his name. Luckily I knew the name of my half brother, whom I contacted. Through him I got my father's name and birth date.

The story of Conny Latoel, Warlovechild

When I was thirteen, I heard a conversation between my grandfather and grandmother with an uncle. My father had just deceased, and I stayed with my grandparents, who lived in a barrack in the Moluccan camp in the Netherlands. And while I was sleeping behind the curtain, I caught that conversation. My uncle said in a slightly derogatory way: well, she’s not his anyway. Until that moment I knew no better than that Latoel was my real father. He was always very loving to me, and I'm sure he considered me as his daughter. But I was not.

When a group of veterans visited Semarang in 1977, they were approached by two people, a brother and sister. It could clearly be seen that they were not fully Indonesian. They were asking for someone called Jan de Boer. Their father. My father. Only in 2010 one of these veterans dared to tell me, when my mother was already deceased. I have no idea where I should look now.

My father Jan de Boer was sent to the Dutch Indies in December 1947, as a 20-year-old boy from Schalkhaar. My parents were married young and I was born just a few months before his departure, in October 1947. He was a cook in 5.5 R.I. His regiment was active in various places, including in Klaten and in Salatiga. And at one point they were stationed in or near a sugar factory, the "Gondang Winangoe' in the village of Djatinom, near Klaten. That plant still exists.

"Indonesian women with Dutch husbands were killed. My mother and many other mothers, have long kept this secret. Only much later, she dared to tell that she had a Dutch husband. "

The story of Elly Hoektini in Kudus, Java

Luwi Velleman was born in 1949 and lives in Semarang, in the Jangli district. His father, Louis Velleman, had the small Luwi in his arms and cherished him. Then in 1949 all Dutch soldiers had to return to the Netherlands. Father Louis left his girlfriend and child in Indonesia with the intention to return as quickly as possible, with a job and a future. But it never came to be. Luwi has never seen his father. He lived in the assumption that his father had abandoned him deliberately. Until he received a letter from Australia in 1990...

I discovered that my father was not my biological father when I needed a birth certificate for my graduation: only the familyname of my mother was written on it, Van Hensbeek, and not my father’s familyname, Meyer. From that moment my quest began. Up to this day no one in the family wants to tell me the truth.

The story of Warlovechild Roy Meyer

Jecky was born and raised in Bali. His daddy soldier left the island even before the birth of his child to Java and then to the Netherlands. Only 34 years later, after a long search, Jecky traced his father Jack. His father did not want to travel to Indonesia to meet because of his advanced age. And Jecky, who had never been outside Bali, did not dare to travel to the Netherlands. Son and father would never meet. Yet father Jack eventually returned in Jecky's life.

Emptying the house of a deceased aunt in 2008 gave the lives of the brothers Teunisjan and Jan van Ewijk a totally unexpected turn. In the house they found a picture of two cute girls. One of the girls looked just like grandma.

The quest of Teunisjan and Jan for their halfsisters in Indonesia

In 2009, we interviewed José Kerry about her unknown military father. Now, 3 years later, it might be that she finally found him!

Telling her story to Warlovechild.org was the start of this story with a hopefully happy end. With the information of a veteran and the help of the organisation FIOM, she is now waiting for the results of a DNA-test.

My mother was an Indo-European woman. Her father was a Dutchman, her mother Indonesian, a real Javanese. They lived in Klaten, near Solo. My mother married an Indo-European man. Together they had three children: two daughters and a son. Suddenly, her husband disappeared. It was wartime, and at first my mother lived in great uncertainty. She was left alone with the children. Only later it turned out that her husband had gone to Holland. His story was that he had become ill and was transported to Holland. She received the divorce papers by mail.