Jan & Christina Lont

Story

I remember as a young boy standing with my parents and brothers,at the edge of the betonweg (Rijkstraatweg) in the very early hours of a cold and frosty January morning waiting for a bus that would take us south to the port of Rotterdam. My parents had packed all the belongings that we could take aboard ship with us. My mother’s parents still lived in Hippolytushoef and it appeared they may not have been too happy with the departure of their daughter and grandchildren to some far off country called Australia.

My memories of Hippolytushoef (where we were born and raised) have always remained vivid. I remember going to kluiterschool and then later to the lagereschool near the Slingerweg. The speeltuin (playground) in Heldersestraat, had only just been opened and children from our street van Pommerenstraat, would play there all day when the weather was good.

Jan and Christina Lont and their 3 sons, Johannes,Simon and Pieter, sailed on the migrant ship the Fairsea with 800 other passengers,arriving in Melbourne,March 18th.1953.The journey took in places such as Gibralter, Genoa, Port Said and Aden before arriving at Fremantle W.A. On arrival at Port Melbourne my father, who had been accommodated in separate mens’ quarters aboard ship for the entire journey, immediately left by train for Geelong, where he took up construction work at the Shell Refinery. Work had been arranged in Holland through a joint venture company DACO (Dutch-Australian Construction) and as his skills were in bricklaying and concreting, his employment was in the field of building furnaces, chimney stacks and working with firebricks.

My mother, brothers and I travelled by train to Bonegilla – an immigrant re settlement camp located at Wodonga. There we stayed for 2 months along with migrants from many parts of Europe. Bonegilla was a hot, dry and dusty place. The accomodation was far from luxurious. Men, women and children lived in very basic army huts with very little furniture, lighting or heating. The food provided for the hundreds of new settlers did not offer much other than mutton and potatoes – with whatever other vegetables were in season.

After 2 months at Bonegilla it was a relief to be told that accommodation had been found for us at Ocean Grove – a small township on the coast, 20km. from the City of Geelong. Geelong was a rapidly expanding and developing city, with plenty of work for migrants. Our accommodation at Wynndean Holiday Park was similar to Bonegilla. But we did have the benefit of a clean, yellow sand, surfbeach with clear blue water of the southern ocean at our doorstep. At night the smell of fish being smoked, rabbits being stewed and sauerkruat, red cabbage and apples being boiled, was a delight to the nostrils of all. The sounds of singing by peoples from far away lands would be heard and often the soft sounds of the harmonica or an accordian would accompany the singers.

My brothers and I walked to school each day, which in 1953 had only 80 students – most of these were immigrant children from Poland, Germany, Belgium, Russia, Hungary & Czechoslovakia. Assimilation with Australian children and the children from many other countries was not difficult – there were no cultural boundaries. The freedom of our early school days will never be forgotten.

Ocean Grove was a town that was growing and much of the land for sale was taken up by new settlers. Market gardens could be seen springing up, many before the new owners had even considered building a house or shed – they were so keen to get the vegetables growing in the ground.

Eventually Dad built our house, in stages. He would carry almost everything he needed on his motorcycle- bags of cement, tools, ladder on his shoulder. Driftwood that had broken loose from passing ships was collected from the beach and used in the construction of the house. We lived on our bush block in an old gypsy caravan until the first rooms of the house were completed. Life was not easy. In the early days, house half built , we went without many things. Winter nights were spent in the house playing cards, listening to the radio or my father playing the harmonica. At the weekends the whole family would be busy making hand made bricks, enabling Dad to finish our house.

Many of the Dutch immigrants of 1953 have made Ocean Grove their home. They, their children and grandchildren are very proud Australians.

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