The years after World War Two

Back to Java

Breakfast was delicious at the hotel Sahid Krakatau, I couldn’t stop eating from that gorgeous Indonesian fruit, I had missed it so much, it was like a miracle for me that I could eat as much as I wanted, a real gift from heaven.

We took a bus-taxi, where’in  there is place for five passengers, very sociable, every body starts talking to you, we are all going to town, no luxury but this was real fun.
It was very nice walking through Lampung, a very big market with many small shops, but there were very few tourists.
Bandar Lampung is made up of two towns, in the north Tanjung Karang and in the south Teluk Betung that’s where our hotel was.
In the afternoon we went back to the hotel where we sat in their lovely garden with a view over the Java sea, drinking tea in this so beautiful and peaceful garden makes you longing to stay.  Later on we took a walk along the beach where we found  some playing children, it was nice to watch them . One of the kids brought Agnes and me some shell and corals, when we wanted to give some money he said, no this was free of charge. I bought him and his friends some sweets and that was okay. I took the shells and corals with me to Holland. This was our last day on this absolutely great island, Sumatra.

The next morming on the 22nd of September at 7.30 a.m. a taxi took us to the airport from Lampung, we drove 45 minutes through a very nice landscape and then we entered a small plane , with room for 36 passengers only.  Farewell wonderful Sumatra.

The journey took 50 minutes only, and then I could see Java, the island I had missed so much, I couldn’t believe that this was true, that this was really happening to me after all those years, I was back on Java, “my” island.

We were waiting for the promised car by our Dutch travel agency, and we had to wait quite some time alas, many people started looking for the driver. And there he came at last our little driver Usup, he had slept in the car, he looked very tired.

I asked him if he could bring us to Menteng Pulo the Allied cemetery for the war victims of the Second World War in Indonesia. And so we visited the beautiful cemetery in Menteng Pulo, an expensive district of Jakarta.
At the entrance of the cemetery  I asked if someone could tell me where I could find the grave of my uncle Pierre. One of the young men came with me and then left me alone with my uncle, Agnes was looking around if she could find some well known names among the many crosses.
My uncle Pierre, I could still see him with his smile and with that cheerful look on his face. A white cross with his name on it, buried as a sergeant and that while he had never ever been in the army. I felt so lost, so sad and so empty, it was in 1941 that I had seen this very nice uncle for the last time.
I touched the cross and said: “Farewell dearest uncle Pierre, rest in peace”.
I started looking for Agnes and on my way I saw all those white crosses around me with so many names, not forgotten perhaps but so very lonely, most of them were buried far away from home. Agnes told me that there was also a nice little chapel, but I didn’t feel like going over there, I was too upset about all those white crosses and my very lonely uncle Pierre.

Usup was waiting for us and was then driving us to Bandung, before the war the most European looking town in Java. Pity my first morning on Java was a sad one, but of course I would never have gone to Jakarta without going to visit my uncle Pierre’s last resting-place. I knew that Java would bring back many happy but also very sad memories, above all it felt so good to be back on Java.