21 Visits in the netherlands in search for my father

The story of Tetty Geertruida Sahusilawane

“I visited the Netherlands twenty-one times. Friends of mine always said: “Why do you always go to the Netherlands? As if there is no other country to spend your holidays.” I did not care what they said. I have a personal mission. I am looking for my biological father.”

When we visit Tetty Sahusilawane on a wet Friday morning in February in Jakarta, she is awaiting us with the proverbial Indonesian hospitality and a table full of snacks and drinks. But according to herself, Tetty has so many Dutch habits that it seems as if she grew up in the Netherlands: she likes things like herring, wet cold, punctuality. Yet her only real bond are her origins: her unknown Dutch military father.

“I am born in Medan on February 4, 1950. My mother Mina (the Moluccan Jacomina Sahusilawane), was previously married to Mr. Sopacua, with whom she had four children. They used to live in Ambon, but my mother followed him to Aceh, when he was transferred as a soldier. There he got killed by the Japs. With four small children Jacomina went back to Medan. On her way home one of the children deceased.

My father was pleased with his child

Back in Medan, my mother worked as a cook in the Dutch military headquarters, along with her best friend Koos Ferdinandus. Koos was also a widow, but without children. In the barracks, my mother met a Dutchman, Henk or Hendrik Nicolaas de Graaf, with whom she started a relationship. Her friend Koos also got a relationship with a Dutch soldier, Gerrit or Cor Schaafsma, an army mate of Henry.

End of 1948 my mother gave birth to a son, Henkie, who is named after father Hendrik. Hendrik was proud and very happy with the birth of his son. Not long thereafter my mother became pregnant again. But I was not even born when the Dutch troops had to leave the country. Hendrik asked my mother: “If our baby is a daughter, would you name her after my mother, Geertruida?” So that’s where my name is from.
On my birth certificate only the name of my mother is mentioned. The correct spelling of my father's name is therefore impossible to trace. I do not know how to spell the name correctly: either with one ‘a’ or with two ‘aa's, or with one or two times an 'f'?

The suitcases were already packed

In those days it was customary that Moluccan women were allowed to travel to the Netherlands with their Moluccan husbands who had served in the Dutch East Indies army. Because it was dangerous for those soldiers and their families to stay in Indonesia after the independance, they had to leave. So my mother was pretty sure that she as a widow of a KNIL-er, could leave for Holland with her four children (plus me as a baby). Hendrik and my mother said goodbye in the assumption that they would meet each other soon again in the Netherlands. But fate had determined otherwise.

The former KNIL servicemen were allowed to leave for the Netherlands with their wives and children, but widows like my mother had to wait. One of my older half-brothers, Jonnie Sopacua, was allowed to take the boat to the Netherlands. My mother had already packed all our belongings in large suitcases, everything was ready for our departure from Medan to the Netherlands. Until suddenly it appeared that my mother and her children were sent back home to the island of Ambon, rather than to the Netherlands. Via a stopover in Semarang, where we lived for one year, we were shipped to Ambon around 1951 or 1952.

Parcels from the Netherlands

In Ambon I got baptized and my aunt Koos was my godmother. My mother had a hard time for her and the children. She worked as a cook. Also she cooked elaborate meals for parties. One day a pastor from Medan came to visit Ambon and told my mother that Henk de Graaf from the Netherlands had sent packets twice. He probably thought we still lived in Medan. Because the recipients were gone, the packets were sent back.

I am light in color and had pretty blond hair. My classmates called me “Tety Belanda”, which means “Dutch Tetty”. I had no problems with that. I found myself prettier than the other girls at school and was proud of my roots. But I had a heartache for another reason. They called me Tety Belanda because my father was Dutch, but where was he? I longed to see him. For Moluccan people parents and family ties are very important. But I did not know him, I heard no stories about him, I knew nothing.

Sometimes I was on the verge of asking my mother about it, but I did not dare. She had such a hard live and she was so tired after her hard working every day. I did not have the guts to ask for things that she perhaps would not want to remember.

Photos burned

In 1969 I was lucky to start working at the Bank of Indonesia. I immediately asked my mother to stop working. It was now time that I would care for her. Unfortunately she did not have a long time to enjoy, because in 1971 she deceased, at the age of 70. I was transferred to Jakarta, but after my mother's death the desire to know the truth about my father became even stronger. I urged my aunt Koos to tell about my roots.

From aunt Koos I finally heard the story about my father. He was a Dutch soldier. He was tall. She told me I got the name ‘Geertruida’ from him, and that he was so pleased with his son. Vaguely, I remembered that we had had photos at home of a Dutch soldier with his moped and a large photo of a Dutchman with a baby in his hands: this must have been my father.

Finally my mother had burned all the photos because she was afraid that she would get into trouble because of these pictures. Suppose our house would be rummaged by military because they suspected her to continue a relationship with a Dutchman? After all, she two Dutch children! Luckily Aunt Koos had saved a picture of her own boyfriend, Gerrit Schaafsma. She gave that picture to me so that I might learn more about my father when I would find this guy.

The search

In 1973 I married my husband, De Fretes, but he is deceased in 2002. We did not have children. In those years I started to save money for the purpose of visiting the Netherlands. I hoped I could meet my father.

In 1983 I travelled to the Netherlands for the first time. Family in Maastricht helped me to contact with certain agencies. Until 1995, they continued the surch for my father, but without result. They also met Gerrit Schaafsma in Winsum, but unfortunately he did not want to get involved in the search for the family De Graaf. My half brother Jonnie Sopacua, who lived in the Netherlands, did not help me either. And my brother Henkie, who is of the same father, lost faith a long time ago and is not willing to keep on searching. But I can not rest.

In 1999 it appeared that we had found my father, a veteran named Hendrik de Graaf, who lived in the north of the Netherlands. By means of a foundation for Veterans, I wrote him a letter. But the foundation has called him instead of sending my letter by mail, and he refused any contact. This man, a seemingly very religious person, said he had no children in Indonesia and that we were absolutely mistaken. But when he is so sure he is not my father, why does he react so vehimently and does not want to meet me to help me out?

Later, other family members helped me again. They wrote letters to the editor of the television series Spoorloos. The answer was a disappointment. They could not promise us that they could help, because there were long waiting lists. The family in Arnhem has not given up. Every year they try to write a letter. They also have a call placed in a newspaper for veterans.

In 2006 I retired and had more time to travel. In the same year I was granted access to the National Archives in The Hague. I've been in the archive to find traces of my father for 5 days. But without luck.

After such a long and fruitless search, the family in Arnhem has given up hope and stopped their search. Then I met a cousin who asked me whether I'd ever hope to meet my father. I thought: why not? So Mieke and her husband Henk van Nus started searching. In November 2011 I was interviewed by Louis Kelckhoven, a jounalist of the Newspaper of the North. So many people have read my life story. I have no regrets. I want to be honest and have no secrets. To my friends and acquaintances of the church, I also told the story.

I am ready at any time to travel to the Netherlands if my father or his family would be found. Whether it will ever happen, only our Lord knows the answer. But hope will always be in my heart.”

Interview: Annegriet Wietsma, Jakarta
Text and translation: Yanuar Sidharta