You don’t know me. And in fact, I don’t know you either. Yet we have already gone through so much together. Look at this picture, that’s us (you I have circled in red).
Schiphol Airport, Wednesday, August 24th, 1977: you and I have just landed after a long flight. Our mothers, our culture, our homeland Indonesia, we have left them all behind. At least we have each other. And two Dutch tourists who happened to be in Indonesia on their holiday, Miss Lia Maas and Miss Tack. One day they just got two babies pushed in their arms, because you and of course were too young to travel to the Netherlands on our own. These nice women kept holding on to us the entire flight, as you can see in the photo. I’m moved.
On this day our new life began, Victor. The only thing I know is you went to Gouda with your adoptive parents. That is what my adoptive parents told me (who took me to Zeeland, where I was raised).
This past year I’ve converted my search for answers into concrete actions. I have searched and have (partially) found, with many thanks to Stichting My Roots . My biological family, the harrowing story of my adoption and recently even the woman who arranged our adoption, Martha Chen.
As I’m browsing through my photo album and see this photo, I realize something. My story is not complete without knowing what happened to you after August 24 1977. What has become of you? Do you live still in Gouda? Have you ever been looking for your roots? During my search, I’ve come to know a lot of Dutch adoptees from Indonesia like us. Our stories are all unique. And yet, the core appears to be almost the same. Although I never went back to Indonesia, being surrounded by them feels a bit like coming home. I feel privileged that I got to know these people. And who knows, I could even imagine introducing them to you. If you’d like that.
I hope that you or someone who knows you, will read this. Even when family members / friends of Lia Maas or Miss Tack – then living in Bergen op Zoom – have heard of this story, I would love to hear. And since I’m at it: just a couple of weeks before I left Indonesia, I was taken care of by the Dutch Vijverberg family. They themselves had at that time three adopted children, ages 3 years, 2 years and 9 months. It would be nice if I could get in touch with them.
Little by little I’m finding the missing pieces of my puzzle…
I hope to hear from you!
Kind regards, Wendy Maria Dekker
PS The power of social media … SHARE? YES PLEASE! Thank you in advance.