The Immigrants

As World War two ended, my father was reunited with my family. During the early Nazi occupation, my dad along with other young men was rounded up in a village raid. Being non-Jewish he was sent to Germany as an indentured labourer, where he remained for five years.

Upon his return, it was difficult making end meet and soon there were two more children added to our family. The only option left and opened to so many who had survived the war, was to emigrate.

The colonies saw a massive migration and war-brides made the passage across the ocean to their new homes and waiting husbands. 

The Netherlands had suffered during the occupation and needed to rebuild the country. Back taxes were demanded and strict rules applied in collecting them. Immigration wasn’t a way to avoid paying these taxes. 

All taxes were to be paid before migration took place, if not, you could not return to the Netherland.

We were planning to emigrate to South Africa and my grandfather was willing to help with a loan to pay the outstanding taxes. A sudden heart attack took his life and my grandmother needed the funds for her survival.  

Other plans started to fall in place and my father went ahead and emigrated to South Africa, via England one year ahead of us. He found work as a house painter in Pretoria and sent funds for our passage. My mother sold the house decorating business and quietly made arrangements for our journey. 

We moved in with my grandmother and left during the night, taking the train to Hoek-of-Holland and the night ferry to London with a further connection to Southampton.  We left the Netherlands, our family and unpaid taxes behind.

By the time we arrived in Cape Town, we had a house, sparsely furnished on the outskirts of Pretoria. There was plenty of work for my father, clothes and furniture were donated through the local synagogue. 

Pretoria had a large Jewish community, immigrants themselves and most had arrived in 1930 from Russia.  The local Synagogue took it upon themselves to support the newly arrived Dutch immigrants. They felt that the Dutch had helped the Jews during the war and it was their turn to help the Dutch. 

They supported us anonymously through the next twelve years. We received rental houses, to suit our family and budget, work for my father as a portrait painter and some dropped in as friends. 

Paying the back taxes was a priority and did not take long before clearing our debt.