Jan's Houseboat Hideaway

by Sandra Deden

Chapter 7

Mu and Pa worried about the world they had just brought their fourth child into. It was a much different place than years ago when Pa walked into a glue factory for work and quit within the week because he couldn't stand the smell or the overbearing boss. He started his little store selling food and work clothing, first with a small rowboat, then later with a motorboat. Since then, he and Mu dreamed of being self-sufficient and giving their children chances in life they themselves never had. They had survived the difficult time after the birth of their son Jan. And when Thea returned to the family at age seven, the family was reuni ted. Just when the family seemed stable, the threat of the war pushed their dreams further away. The Dutch army had mobilized a month before in September 1939, when Germany's Chancellor Adolph Hitler ordered Nazi troops to cross the border into Poland and capture Warsaw. As he listened intently to the radio, Pa's fears came true when the British and French entered into the conflict. Another world war! By September 17, the broadcasts delivered the sad news that Nazi aircraft had bombed the Poles into submission, and the country became just one more addition to the Third Reich.

Although the Dutch were better off than their Polish neighbors, they moved around more cautiously, like mice that move freely in the nest, but know the cat waits outside the mouse hole.

The Dutch government called up the reserves, but at age 43 Pa was exempt from service. Neither his exemption, nor the 700-mile distance between him and the front, however, brought him any peace. In Europe the front line was everywhere, and not only soldiers would see the action.

Pa listened to news on the radio announcing Hitler's assurances to the Queen that he would respect Holland's neutrality. He heard many of the villagers say to each other that they hoped and prayed it was true. After all, Germany had respected Holland's neutrality in the Great War, from 1914 to 1918. But Pa was 22 during the Great War, and he remembered. When he and Mu married in 1924, six years after the war ended, there were still food, housing, and cloth ing shortages, despite Holland's neutrality. This time he wanted to prepare as much as he could. Either way, staying neutral or fighting, they were looking at a future of hard times and uncertainty. Pa bought as much food and clothing as his savings and storage would allow; during war money became useless paper, and food and clothing became hard currency. He bought large quantities of goods from his suppliers: shoes, coats, pants, and bed sheets, flour, sugar, tea, coffee and cigarettes. Every week he bought a little more and tucked it away in the houseboat's large storage compartments below in the hull. He stored, saved, and waited to see what 1939 would bring.

Once a week after school, Rennie did the food shopping for the 10 nuns who taught at the school. First she went to the store owned by the Wiegmans on Brugstraat. When Rennie entered the store, Mrs. Wiegman was speaking heatedly with some of the villagers. Certain words stayed in her head: war, Hitler, shortages. She felt her chest get tight, and couldn't make herself speak.

“Rennie!” said Mrs. Wiegman. The adults fell silent. “I didn't see you there. Don't look so serious now,” said Mrs. Wiegman. “What can I get for you today?”

Rennie stood transfixed as Mrs. Wiegman measured out her order of flour and sugar. She tried to forget her fear, but the sounds of the worried, angry voices haunted her.

“Thank you,” said Rennie as she ran out the door. She couldn't wait to be far away from there. She still had to stop at the van't Nederend fruit and vegetable store on Kerkstraat, a few streets away.

When Rennie arrived, Mr. van't Nederend said, “Come in, Rennie. Are you all right? You're very pale. Why don't you sit down while I get your order?” She sat down, and he gave her a piece of peppermint candy. By the time he handed her a bag of potatoes, tomatoes, and peppers, she felt better.

She hurried to drop off the groceries at the convent and hurried home. She didn't want to be late for the services celebrating Holy Mary Month. Rennie was glad to go, and she said many extra prayers to Mary to keep her family safe.

Chapter 8

As the fall deepened, the family's and the world's attention slowly turned from the now silent Poland, and their daily life continued along its rhythm. Many people's worst fears about war coming didn't happen, so they began to relax. But not Pa. Some of the neighbors teased Pa for continuing to stockpile goods, but he ignored them. Ever cautious, he knew it was better to be prepared.

One day after lunch, Mu stood in the doorway and watched Pa until he steered his way through the lock that connected their canal with the Merdwede canal. Then she turned to the pile of socks with holes to darn. She heard Thea doing the dishes in the kitchen. Thea was so busy with the baby these days, she no longer had time to fix Mu's hair, but Mu didn't care. She left her hair uncombed, and it stuck out in all directions as if she'd been sitting out on the dike in a wind storm. As she mended her children's socks, her mind wandered back to the past that was full of her brothers' and sister's socks. Some days, her rage over her lost childhood wore her out so much she couldn't move from her bed. Other days she felt fine, and the rage was a distant memory. Lately, though, she could feel the rage more, especially when she thought about the fall of Poland and the assembled Dutch Army.

Mu picked up one of Jan's black play stockings and mended a hole forming on the heel. She knew he hated the dampness of the boat, which saturated everything, especially the stockings. He'd procrastinate after school and wouldn't put on his black play stockings to go out and meet his friends. He loathed their woolly dampness. His friends would call impatiently for him, but still he fidgeted and fussed with his stockings. He thought he had hardships because he had to take off his good stockings to put on the black ones, thought Mu. What did he know of hardship? He was lucky to be able to play at all.

Mu realized it was getting time to make dinner, and she had only finished Jan's stocking. No matter. Pa would be home soon and fix dinner for the family. Thea had already changed the baby and was making the bread.

That night Mu had trouble sleeping again. She hardly slept most nights, and when she couldn't sleep, she got up and wandered outside on the boat. Even on a good night she slept only about five hours a night. In these sleepless nights she would curse out loud against the years of her wasted youth, her father and mother, and her insomnia. She'd go back into the houseboat for a drink of water and reach for her sleeping pills in the kitchen. Then she'd pull a cigar from the drawer, light it, snuff it out, and chew on the burnt end. The still canal and the countryside dark with the absence of humans soothed her. This is why we live o n the houseboat, she'd think to herself. Theirs was the only houseboat on the canal for miles. They lived out far enough from the village so that their nearest neighbors on either side were a few kilometers away. The canal was heavily traveled, but at least the barges never stopped; they moved along, away. Let the people say what they would about houseboat dwellers. That only poor, uncouth people lived that way. Thinking these hard thoughts, her rage boiled to the surface again. She shouted into the night, “Honor thy father and mother? I wish I had never known them!” A string of curses would pour forth, curses she would punish her children for if they spoke them.

A tugboat passing by blew its horn, and Mu lifted her head up in a half-sleep panic. The quiet returned and she relaxed. She didn't mind that houseboat living could be somewhat difficult. The family had electricity, but no running water when they first moved in. She sent Pa or Thea to the neighbors to get water. After about 10 years of living on the boat, the family final received a water source when the water department put in a faucet not too far away. Then Jan and Rennie fetched the water every other day.

For Mu the midnight ramblings were a way of releasing her demons, but the children didn't know quite what to think. Thea put the pillow over her head and ignored Mu because she needed her sleep. Jan heard her and got mad himself. It just made him feel worse about living in the houseboat. Rennie heard it, too, and she tried her best to think of good things and go back to sleep, even though her heart pounded at the sounds of her mother's yells.

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