Herman van Haren

Story

‘I\’m going to Australia,’ I announced to my parents. ‘Grote goden! Jesu Cristus!’ was my mother\’s response. My father was more perceptive, ‘What is Vader Hendriks up to?’

I was only 19 years old and it was 1953. I was already married to Joke Hendriks and Ellen, our first daughter, was five months old. Vader Hendriks had in fact decided to migrate to Australia over a card game with old Vader Kirkels, the father of one of his sons-in-law. Their plan was to make their fortune by establishing a chicken farm in Australia.

In the Netherlands at the time migration was encouraged. The Dutch government was concerned about a post war population explosion. Australia was appealing because the basic wage was higher at £10-£15 and they had a 40 hour working week. The Netherlands still had a 48 hour week. The Hendriks settled on Australia and I had married into the decision.

I was working for Philips at the time and my supervisor told me, ‘Don\’t go. We need you here. We have plenty of work for you.’ But I thought I knew better. When I told my Grandmother, Opoe, I told her confidently, ‘I\’m only going for five to ten years.’ She said, ‘You can\’t do that to your mother.’ But I stressed that I would be back. It was going to be 19 years before I returned. When I looked into my mother\’s eyes, I realised the pain I was causing my family.

But we were full of our adventure & the excitement of our first plane flight soon dominated our thoughts. When we travelled to Australia, we flew rather than sailed. It was like a holiday as we flew for three to four hours per day due to fuel restrictions & stayed in hotels at night in cities like Rome, Damascus, Karachi, Calcutta & Singapore. When we landed in Fremantle, we were taken by bus to some Nissan huts. The huts were warm and comfortable but we knew our holiday was over – we weren\’t in a hotel! The next day some Australian officials approached me, ‘Are you Herman van Haren?’ I nodded. ‘Are you a fitter and turner?’ I nodded. ‘We have a job for you here.’ I declined. I knew our passage had been booked to Melbourne and I still had £50 landing money. Nevertheless I started to look my Australian coins. They were so strange Ð a shilling, guinea, half-penny. I tried to work out their value & knew we had to economise.

On arrival in Melbourne everyone seemed to be greeted by someone and we just stood there, alone and forlorn. For a moment, I missed my parents. Joke was experiencing the same emotions and started to cry. ‘Don\’t worry, you will soon be with your sister.’ I knew I had to look for a taxi but two migration officials had spotted us. ‘What\’s the matter, luv? Don\’t worry, we\’ll put you up for the night.’ They bundled us into a taxi, & sorted out our accommodation & travel to Sydney by train. On the train, I became aware of what seemed to me at the time funny looking trees or ‘rare bomen’. They were gum trees & grew in clusters with so much land around them stripped and bare. It was so unlike the Dutch polder & pastureland, & the poplar, oak & pine trees that I was familiar with.

From Sydney we caught a steam train to Wollongong where Joke\’s sister, Nellie Kirkels, her husband Jan and their son, John, greeted us. It was the first time they had seen Elleke and they were besotted by her. We got on the old blue Dion\’s bus; our destination was Lake South where Jan and Nellie lived and with whom we spent our first night.

On our second night in Lake South we moved into a small flat, no it was a fibro shack, two rooms, no lining on the walls and a communal outside pan toilet and a laundry with an old copper. I was not able to get a job for over four months and I felt degraded when I had to borrow £50 from the Kirkels to get by. When I spent part of that money on a wireless to listen to news from overseas, the family was angry with me and thought I was frivolous. I was homesick and became negative. I remember going to the beach at Lake South and looking over the ocean. I thought, ‘I have to go back.’

When I finally got a job, it was as a labourer with Australian Iron and Steel on the spun pipe, drainage pipes made from cast iron and used by the Water Board. We were still living at Lake South and while I was pleased to get a job with pay at £15 per week, I was very depressed that my qualifications as a fitter and turner were not recognised. At the Spun Pipe my work mates called me Dutchy Boy and made comments about my curly blonde hair and sang songs about the Zuider Zee.

After 10 months we rented a house in Primbee where our daughters, Rita and Wilhelmina, were born in 1954 and 1956. In 1959 we built a house in Warilla where we raised our children. My qualifications were finally recognised and I worked for many years at the steelworks.

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