Biography

Feeling the cold stones from underneath a small blanket I laid on, looking up through a haze sight of a ‘kelambu’- mosquito net - seeing people around shoving, walking and talking as I lay close to the main entrance and exit of a large building. I heard them talking something about, “He has malaria, hope he pulls through.” Then at once my vision cleared as the ‘kelambu’ was pulled up and my mother made me drink a bitter solution out of an old large aluminum rice spoon. I didn’t mind the bitterness because it reminded me of the little sliver of ‘gula jawa’ I was to get as a bonus afterwards.

Even though I was only three years old, I remembered a lot. From my perspective I remember not being sick of malaria but of ‘tajin’, a rice slurry. That was all I was given to eat everyday, and yes I liked the ‘gula jawa’ even though such a tiny little piece. Yes, I was there, I’d seen, I tasted, and I touched, but “I did not understand.”

On a later date, feeling good and naughty, I joined the older kids in the camp catching many small birds such as “gelatik” and “burung pipit”. So small, so little, but at least it was something to eat, better than the rice porridge they made in half cut-off 50 gallon drums. No, we did not even clean the birds, we stuck them on bamboo skewers and barbecued them on a small ‘arang anglo’, and yes, they got cooked, alright. But I was reluctant to eat the birds like all the older boys did. When I told them that the birds looked so ugly like ‘arang all black’, they answered me,”Geef Neks!” I wiped the powdery black feathers off on my naked bloated tummy and ate one bird reluctantly. Not bad, but a little mushy inside, thinking of my experience eating barbecue garden snails last week with the result having my lips puffed up from poison. Yes, I was there, I’d seen, I touched, but “I did not understand.”

On my fifth birthday I remember my mother, Frieda, she was always ‘dagang’ trading and looking for “obat-obatan”. So one day, wanting to help her, I snuck up into our camp’s Japanese medicine room and stole a whole bottle of “kayu putih” and took off faster than a ‘burung pipit’ could fly before the Japanese ‘Jaga’ would return, with the result I slipped and fell leaving me a gash on my upper lip still bothering me today.

On a later date, I joined the older boys digging for river stones, piling them up in front of some Japanese soldiers who were commandeering us to get back in, and out of the river faster, and to quit playing. When we came out with the stones, we triumphantly paraded them up the berm laying them down at the foot of the Japanese soldiers while singing a song with some of the context they understood, “Rij maar door Takahashi rij maar door, naar het land van je vaders waar je hoort!” They only grasped the ‘Takahashi’ part and got plenty sore at us, even though the Japanese were kind to us children. Yes, I know the tune, I’ve seen, I sang, I touched, I was there, but “I did not understand.”

I’ve seen many things I did not understand. I’ve seen two rows of naked mothers and their children, how many I could not count, going round and around in circles, at the same spot they stood, while a big DDT truck blasted two rows of spray one to the left and one to the right forcefully delousing them. When my time came I remembered the pain of ‘perih’ eyes. Yes, I was there, I’ve seen, but still “I did not understand.”

TRADING FOR GOODS

One day I’d seen an older woman tied up to a pole in the center of our camp square. I heard people saying, “She was not to eat for a week because she was caught on a nightly mission trading food and medicine from under the barbed wires with the local people which was strictly forbidden.” She was really punished, she may have died, I shall never know. But what I have seen and touched I tell you, yet I have not understood.

AFTER OUR VICTORY

The noise was deafening when Australian airplanes came overhead, dropping us parachuted crates with food. I especially remembered the Wrigley’s chewing gum. We just loved it. The kids and I ate at least five packs each without hesitation. We did not know about chewing gum, so we just swallowed and were just happy, until a bit later.

In addition, we all got a long green can of smoked bacon. Oh, I just remembered the good old Australian bacon smell. Many of us gotten real sick and the bacon cans were again taken back into the mess hall. Yes, I know, I was there, I’ve seen and touched, I even tasted, but “I did not understand.”

THE CONCLUSION OF THIS STORY

Today I can say I understood and came to a conclusion that it was time for me to know. Many of us have come to the same conclusion today. We all know, we all have seen, we all have touched, and now we all understand, don’t we? Unfortunately, in this today’s messy world there are many of us who will never understand, who will never have a clue why they have suffered.

WHY ARE WE HERE?

You see, all things happen for the best even if we do not understand. There is a pattern, there is a purpose, and there are certain ways. Yet, some will ask what could possibly be the basis and purpose of our memory concerning this Memorial Day. And in that lies a serious question, why we are here, what we are doing, what we have learned. I tell you why!

GOD'S PATTERN

You see our lives are lived while it is being shaped, routed, molded, altered, detoured, and terminated. However, there is a design; there is an undisputable pattern that shapes our lives. Today, looking at this life pattern is like looking upon the back side of a sewn quilt. We can see many patches of cloth in disarray sewn together in different ways, different fashions, different modes, and styles, looking rough and ugly, some threads half cut and hanging down, unacceptable to many of us. Some patches colored red, blue, and in multiple colors of the rainbow, some quite dark, representing our sorrows, misfortunes, our poorness, our sickness, our stubbornness, our unwillingness, and self-made righteousness. But if you really are willing and able to see and understand, you may witness many silver linings. However, many of us are unable to see because of the tear filled eyes with bitterness, selfishness, and pride.

Others may be satisfied, “I did it my way.” Finding satisfaction “under their circumstances” yet this is not enough; our lesson is to be “satisfied above all our circumstances.”

MAN'S VISION AND GOD'S VISION

Of course, our vision is merely from a human perspective and our life’s quilt does not look all that promising and wonderful. But I tell you that our vision, our perspective is just of this world and cannot match up with a pure heavenly perspective. Our ways are not God ways. No, they are not from God’s perspective looking down from above, He sees the right sides of our quilt of life. And He says, “It just looks fabulous”, in His mind, “‘luar biasa’ those Indo’s”. “It just looks fabulous”, from God’s perspective it looks just as He wanted it to look. And someday we all may see the beauty in each other’s life. Today, again we may see beauty under our circumstances, but there will be a time that you will see beauty above all circumstances, starting today for the day has come seeing God’s perspective of beauty in ourselves, and then you may see clearly above all things, the beauty in others.

GOD WILL MAKE GOOD

To end this message I just want to leave you with one thought. “In all things, God will make good” even our bad memories of war, of prison, of hunger, of loss, and the displacement of our country and that for those that have offered their lives for a cause of freedom, in the military, private, or business sector whether on sea or on land. For God will make all things beautiful under all circumstances for those that love Him.

Thank you and God bless you.

Pastor A. Lody De Ridder
Speaker for the “Comite’ 15 Augustus 1945”