Marken, Volendam, Edam, Monnickendam, the towns I mentioned in the earlier post, are not really towns one should show to visitors as representative of contemporary Dutch culture, only as historic Dutch culture. Those towns have completely lost the way of life which made them what they are, and are in danger of fast becoming living museums. Building the "Afsluitdijk" was the definite seal on their ruin. The beautiful gabled houses, the gable stones all testify to their past, when they were open to the sea. The sea which was a threat as well as a source of income. The East India Company which traded with far off lands and brought in spices and other exotic goods provided wealth. So did the fishermen, and the whalers. Big churches were built. People were aware of the uncertainty of one's existence, death was round the corner. They trusted in God. Who else to trust in? They thanked the Lord for profusion and a safe return, asked for a blessing on their journeys. All that is gone. Amsterdam is a threat to this part of the country. Quite a lot of people who live here now in the nicely restored houses were not originally born here, but commute. Work is elsewhere. Although eel is still a product of the IJsselmeer, most fishermen have to go to other harbours to be able to fish at sea. And moreover all fishing activities are threatened by European quota, rules and regulations. It is sad to see those towns gradually change into commuter towns, satellites of Amsterdam. And the source of their beauty and wealth gone. That applies to many a town around the IJsselmeer, but especially to those in the province of North-Holland. In the harbours hundreds of private pleasure yachts are moored, but no longer any barges for cargo or fishing ships. The historic, big sailing ships with their tall masts and brown coloured sails, are used for tourist trips, parties, and sailing holidays. But at least one tries thus to preserve them so that they won't be destroyed.
Monnickendam, Cornerstone
If we want to show tourists the real Netherlands, as they are nowadays, we should show them Rotterdam with the many docks, Europoort, Pernis with the refineries. Not beautiful, but that is where it happens. That is where work is found. And we should show them the Delta works south of Rotterdam, the dykes, locks, sluices and storm surge barriers which protect the many islands of "Zeeland" from the sea. This mega project was started after the dreadful floods of 1953, when Zeeland and part of Zuid-Holland were flooded by the sea in a terrible storm and the dikes were destroyed by the force of the waters. Many lives were lost. Now the islands are connected to each other and to the mainland, and easily accessible. They are no longer surrounded by the sea, which can indeed be extremely cruel. The lakes in between the former islands are partly bracken, as sea water is let in in moderation. Oysters and mussels grow well in those waters. The whole system of dykes, locks and storm surge barriers is a very ingenious work of art which the Dutch can indeed be proud of. Our expertise when it comes to building in water is now an export product.
Film of the Flood Disaster. Since at that time there was no television, there was a special cinema where one could see newsreels. This film is the first news about the floods. It is very clear that on the first day nobody knew about the extent of the disaster. Only a day later it became clear that most of Zeeland had been flooded and many lives had been lost. Unfortunately the film is in Dutch, but the film is nevertheless very impressive.
A personal memory
Most people will remember exactly where they were and what they did when they heard that John F. Kennedy was murdered. And also when the twin towers in Manhattan were destroyed by terrorist actions. Those disasters have had such an impact that we will never forget them. So it was with those dreadful and devastating floods of 1953. Communications were not nearly as good as they are nowadays: no internet, no cell phones, no television, and only very few people had a telephone at all. Telephone lines in the affected area were cut off and went dead. Only when planes flew over the area, the extent of the damage became known.
At the time I was a little girl. And I remember clearly what happened. Thinking of that day again I am filled with horror, but also with shame. Horror because we could not understand how this could have happened, and that so many lives of innocent people were lost. A day later it became clear that almost all the livestock on the islands was drowned as well.
When I came down that Sunday morning I was happy. My mother had made me a new dress which she had just finished and as it was a Sunday I put it on for the first time. I hoped that everybody would admire the dress, or rather would admire me in that dress and say that I looked beautiful, just like my older sister who was much more attractive than I was. I was a very skinny and tiny girl, with straight, blond, wispy, fly-away hair, and a very pale skin which would never tan but burn, peel off and be disgustingly pink where the new skin had formed. My sister had an olive coloured skin, tanned if she only looked at the sun, and had dark, wavy hair. She had a marvellously narrow waist. In short, she was very attractive. When I came down, full of expectations, my father's ear was glued to the radio in the sitting room. I did not hear the religious or classical music with which he usually filled the house on a Sunday morning to wake us up. Instead he put his finger to his lips so that I would not say anything and said that something terrible had happened. We knew the threat of the sea, living in Scheveningen and having uncles who were fishermen. We knew about the danger of storms and people drowning at sea. But that dikes could break through, dikes which were supposed to protect us, was something so unheard of and so unexpected, that it filled us with fear. We heard that Rotterdam was partly flooded, and that in other places lives had been lost. The extent of the disaster wasn't clear yet. We only learned that the following day. I remember feeling very disappointed that no one paid any attention to my dress nor seemed to notice it. And at the same time I felt very ashamed about those feelings, as many people apparently had lost their homes and had nothing left, no clothes, no possessions whatsoever. We did not know yet how many had lost their lives and that all of Zeeland was virtually flooded. That I could feel disappointment over a trivial thing like a new dress – or rather myself in this dress – not being noticed, when so many people had experienced a disaster, filled me with shame. To punish myself I tried to imagine what it must be like to lose everything, not to have any clothes except the ones you had on. To be dependent on the goodness of others and to be forced to wear second hand clothes which people gave you.
I still remember that dress, made of dark red wool . It was decorated with yellow zigzag braiding. It concealed the extra seams in the sleeves and at the hem. My mother used to buy remnants of material because that was cheap. The lenghts were always too short and my mother would move the pattern around on the material as if she were solving a jigsaw puzzle, till she had fitted everything in and not a scrap of spare material was left. But it implied extra seams in places where one would normally not find them.
Not long after this terrible flood there was a new girl in our class at school. She came from the islands. She fascinated me, because she looked so different. In Scheveningen everyone had blue eyes and fair hair. She had dark curly hair and very dark eyes, which looked extremely sad. I never saw her laugh. She just sat there. Our teacher told us that she was a refugee from the flooded islands, and that she would stay with us till her island and her home were habitable again. I never dared to ask her what she had experienced and had lived through. She seemed to be surrounded by a cloud of sadness. She stayed at our school for the rest of the year. Her name was Francisca. I have loved that name ever since.
Since that flood the nightmares began in which I drowned in dark, black water. I would wake up in a sweat, but as soon as I fell asleep again, the dream repeated itself or continued. Nobody heard my screams, nobody noticed me when the water closed over my head.
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