Frank and Margaret Fikkers

Story

The Fikkers Family migration to Australia.

In 1949, the future in Holland did not look very promising. Our city of Groningen was still partly in ruins, many items were in short supply and taxes were very high. The Fikkers family consisting of father Fokko (Frank ), mother Margareta (Margaret)and eight children aged from thirteen to two years, decided that a better life could be made in Australia.

The children\’s names in order are; Bill, Ann, Nella, Jack, John, Frank, Margaret and Peter.

The family arrived in Sydney on 31 August 1950 on the P&O steam ship Chitral. The family was supposed to come over on a Dutch liner, but at the last minute, due to lack of space, were moved to Great Britain to board the P&O liner. The ship was a converted Troop carrier without any luxuries. We were housed in ten person cabins, but males on one side of the ship and females and young children on the other.

The first day in Sydney was spent in Hyde Park, and in the evening we were transported by train to Bathurst Migrant camp arriving about midnight. We were issued with some blankets and sheets and allocated three rooms. The rooms were in a hut, but accessible only from the outside. Each room contained three chain wire beds and a small cupboard. There were no power outlets and no heating whatsoever. It was bitterly cold. My father soon cut a hole in the wall to join two rooms and make the place more livable. To get some heating, he fitted a double light fitting to the ceiling and installed a single bar radiator. Our cabin trunks became a table and seats. The ablution block consisted of corrugated iron with large openings above our heads and below the knees. A common dining area provided meals. The camp was divided into Blocks, according to Nationality.

My father started work at the BHP Steel factory at Port Kembla and lived in a hostel for men.

With the aid of a ‘ helpful ‘ Dutchman, he was able to obtain a house to rent, but had to pay four hundred pounds key money. Two days before Christmas 1950 we arrived at Bulli railway station. A family of ten plus seven cabin trunks. The Station master phoned a man with a horse and cart and Mum plus the two year old and the cabin trunks were hoisted aboard. The rest walked behind in a procession. The house, which was about 60 years old, had not been lived in for some time and was invested with fleas. The large crate with our belongings from Holland had been dropped on the wharf and damaged, so was waiting insurance, and not available. There was one double bed in the house plus a table and some chairs. All the children had to sleep on the floor until the crate arrived three months later.

Our main compensation was that we were close to the beach and it was Summer.

We soon set about cleaning the place and planting vegetables on the vacant block next door.

My father bought some goats and chickens and before long we had milk, eggs and vegetables. After a few years the goats were exchanged for a cow, so now we were also able to make butter and yogurt. The Yogurt was made by adding a culture to the skimmed milk.

In 1953 my father was able to purchase the house on time payment, being financed by the owner Mrs. Thomas. He also bought a car, a 1929 Essex Super Six.

The eldest girl Ann commenced work at the end of 1951 at thirteen years of age. When Bill had completed three years High school, he obtained an apprenticeship in January 1954. Nella and Jack followed in successive years. All money earned by the children had to be handed to the parents for the support of the family, a common practice with most migrant families.

In 1951 my father formed a church choir with mainly Dutch members. This was very successful and provided a valuable social outlet. In 1952 a Dutch Australian Club was formed in the Illawarra, where Dutchies could socialize and swap information.

In 1958 My parents sold the house and moved into a shop on the corner of Hospital Road Bulli. This corner store was typical of the family operated shops at the time, selling most necessities. From here all the children eventually were married and left home.

My parents never regretted coming to Australia and they lived into their eighties, being survived by eight children, twenty-five grandchildren and dozens of great grandchildren.

Story by Bill Fikkers May 2009.

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