AMSTERDAM
2 August 1975
I have no regrets concerning my childhood- those sad years had to come to let me know the strength I now have. I won back everything I believed my parents had taken from me, except for one precious thing- being spontaneous. It’s all over and I’ve convinced myself that I love this new lonely freedom. I’ve had psychotherapeutic help and it changed a million things. I still have my beautiful wishes, but I am proud of them instead of hiding them.
On November the 17th I leave. I will spend two weeks on the ship ‘Australis’ and arrive in Cape Town on December the 3rd. I intend to live in Johannesburg. There are three reasons for my return: Where a good job, money and study are concerned, I’m better off doing it all in the languages and with the people I’m more familiar with. Then there is the weather and nature. I find my surroundings one of the most important things in my life. There are fine days here too but they will never match what I have known. And then I have a friend who spells security and protection. I know fears that you probably don’t know- and that is why I need some kind of human shelter and honesty.
I’m afraid to say this but I feel that I have to: I have three good reasons for going to South Africa. If I did not have them I would have wanted to go to you Frank, in America and be with you. When I think of it I feel unsure, very unsure. So you see: there is an important part of my life that I am sure of and a just as important part that I am not so sure of and I have to choose. I will never be as childish again to believe that I am forgotten, but I’ve never been so aware that one human being can get lost amongst all the millions of the world. I am happy and aware of a power in me. I have to act wisely and see to it that I don’t get lost.
December 1975: Arrival in CapeTown on the Australis
December 1975
Tom,
I love you
I love the lazy way that you walk, because it is so much part of the country where you come from. I love your face – it is so expressive. It is yours. It makes me proud of you. And, oh God, how much pride you possess. You are lovely; to me you are so beautiful.
You have everything that I would have wanted. When you smile, when you look, when you talk, you tell so much and in such an honest way. You lie perfectly and I believe you- but you admit that you’ve lied after you had seen me fall into the trap.
I am just a small speck of you. Overshadowed by a master because it is my will.
Arrival Cape Town: December 1975
Stoneshill, Grahamstown, South Africa: January 1976
A month has passed since I saw you, Tom. I haven’t had a letter yet- of course I can wait, you are probably very busy, but I wish that you had sent one already. I feel troubled and insecure.
I would like to talk to you now. This paper stops me from being with you; it shows me how far away you are. When I have a job, the time will pass much faster; now I miss you so much. It feels odd to say it, because I do not see the reactions on your face, I cannot hear you and I have a need for that. I can only remember you talking seriously or smiling or kissing me. I think of you so often that it’s driving me mad. It’s so impossible to be with you right now or perhaps even when I’m there in New Zealand. Because there’s been no letter yet, I do not know what you think. I’m very much aware of how far away you are. That leaves me empty and alone and longing.
My previous letters must have shown me as nervous and anxious not to say the wrong things. Fortunately I am a little calmer now and I should explain why.
There are many things that I would like to learn about the art of conversation. I can only ask for time- time to learn to talk or write clearly- time to go to the absolutely opposite end of being egocentric. With experience, knowledge and abilities I will be helped in learning to communicate. I will learn- that is a promise.
It all makes me think of the contrasts in my life. How come is it so that I have a great interest in other people but experience difficulties in expressing that interest? The position of travel consultant attracts me, for instance, but I dare not be such a person, even though I feel and know that I can be one. On the whole I like people, I am attracted to them and at the same time they scare me into a certain silence. The knowledge that I possess orders it self beautifully clear in my mind- but when I speak it is scattered and torn.
Still, though troubled, I am happy and fortunate to have a pen and paper and the will to tell you about the good days, however scarce they are. I spend them doing a variety of thing: I read or make ice-cream or learn to type. Sometimes I just scramble around with the dogs on the lawns and decide to weed the strawberry gardens or pick raspberries for dinner. Occasionally Mum and I swim at home. I play tennis against the garage door or I bike in the direction of the sea. Odd jobs come my way, like polishing the scratched chair that aged in the shack or washing the car. Lazy, sunny weeks- they are without purpose…
The Australis’ journey around the world
8 February 1976
How is it possible that I have so much and yet feel so utterly incomplete, unfeminine and plainly irritated or bored.
I am not pretty; I am fat and scarred in the face. But these are minors. That I dare so little, that I feel small when confronted, that I struggle to overcome my problems- these things haunt me. They make me look bitter and resentful. When I laugh and am loved I can look beautiful, even desirable.
I want friends- men especially; but not men to love, just friends to be with. They cannot charm me for long anymore, but I need a man. If I could love him like I love Tom, I will control that love, because I live in constant fear of losing him.
I cannot hope for much. Not now, not tomorrow.
Running to my parents at the docks Cape Town December 1975. Tom is almost in line with me behind me, dark hair, talking to an older man.
Little Bandle, Port Elizabeth, South Africa
28th April 1976
Dearest Tom,
Dearest Tom,
I wonder if you will really understand me when I tell you how my future has changed in a single morning. To go with you, go to you, was the goal I had originally intended. Later when the first longing and misery calmed down I became frightened of what lay ahead.
I knew I would have to adapt myself to new surroundings; I’d have to make new friends, I’d have to go through all the fears I had experienced during my first few months in Europe. I knew I’d be able to cope, definitely, in time. But the insecurity of it all finally broke me down.
I was asked to leave my job because of a mistake that I had made. The company now stands to lose R1000 a year because of it. I think you can realise how a person’s self-respect drops after something like this. In other words, I know I am not able enough and I must study before I attempt another job. In my country and in many countries, matriculation is not enough.
I cannot go overseas and think all will be heaven again. I don’t necessarily think low of myself because of having made this mistake. However, nothing will be the same anymore.
Gran Canaria Stop on the way to the West coast of Africa
Dearest Frank,
Somehow one reaches a moment when you do not want to talk anymore. One knows that you are losing although you can win. Strength is there but the power to use all the strength suddenly fades.
One feels scorned. I feel branded. I have marks all over me- on the inside to where they are not visible, but I will never have the courage to open this subject to you. What I write here is for me only. You must live with the image you have of me. I may change, but I must change for the better. Sometimes I have the feeling of ‘I can handle it all’, but then come the memories and future anxiety and I’ve lost again. I lose; time and time again
10 February 1976
Dearest Tom,
Dearest Tom,
I feel that I must say what is on my mind or else grow wholly depressed. Since the 3rd of December, I have had no message. No matter what my share in life is to be, I feel that this is coldly unfair. I miss you. It is as if there is an intention to make this silence a hate situation and it hurts so much. How is it possible that you want to risk smothering the beautiful friendship, or do I misinterpret your actions? I never stop asking; it drives me to silly unhappiness. Please answer Tom. Say anything, tell me to keep quiet, but for God’s sake, say something.
Little Bandle, Port Elizabeth
February1976
Dearest Tom,
At last I understand why you waited so long to respond. I believed in you although all these weeks slipped by without a word. I felt as if you had disappeared as if I had dreamt you. Then suddenly on impulse, I telephoned you in New Zealand. It meant so much to me: to actually hear you speaking, to know that you were touching the other end of the line, that you had breakfast like any other person, and were going to work. And now, as I am in my room, it is quiet and I feel strangely alone. There are many people I love listening to, but you are special. I care about you. I have read so many things about your country in the last few weeks. You reflected all these things that I have read about – so maybe your greatest attraction lies in the fact that you are a true New Zealander.
1976
Dearest Tom,
Dearest Tom,
I was very happy with your letter. I do believe you when you say that you have no fixed girlfriend. But I am certain that you have a lovely time with your friends and girls in general. I have a friend- a longtime one – I’ve known Pieter since I was fifteen. He takes care of me like my brother would. Keep in mind that I did not know cosy, protective love as a child. In April I came up north to get help, to calm down and to decide about the future. Pieter offered for me to stay with his parents while looking for a flat. He has done a lot for me in the past and he still does. You might get a picture, through this, of the part he plays in my life. He loves me very deeply, although he knows what my feelings are for him and for you.
You might get married one day. It is and can be true. I have hopes to tour to your country still- this time with two wonderful men, friends and pals, my friend and my brother Anton. I wish you could share our friendship. Men are wonderful- without nonsense or moods- and they are sincere. You can rely on a man, I reckon, and though I am a woman myself, I stay away from my own sex with the greatest of pleasure. I’d rather have ten male friends than women. There is one woman though, who gave me a home and love in Amsterdam and I adore her. I will stay friends with her for the rest of my life. Pieter is another one of the life-long friends. Remember Mrs Strijbos on the boat- she’s another one. I suddenly feel very secure, as if there are many people who are my friends.
Tom,
How can I still be sad when I have so much; a flat, a salary and friends who like me? I can do so much: I can see so many beautiful things. I know my shortcomings but I doubt whether that is the cause: because I work on it. I try not to pity myself (and perhaps enjoy doing it). I try to learn to give of myself by means of conversation. I even feel content, peaceful. What is it then? My parents? No, they let me be nowadays- somehow I have faded away for them. Perhaps it is that I have no goal for which I live passionately every day. For four years I have had a one-track mind: going somewhere. First, it was to Europe, then nearly to California, then nearly to Spain, definitely to South Africa and then nearly to New Zealand. Somehow I do not have much to add to this. But I am happy, I know it. It’s only that the fire has gone out of my days. Whereas I planned madly, and recklessly in the past- I am careful and slow and sure when I do it now. When I’m angry and bursting with it- it is mostly the result of keeping every negative thought to myself.
1976
What is to become of everything? Now, Tom, I realise how things stand for you and me. We are two separate beings. You have never quite known the problem side of me and I am glad for your sake that you never got involved. I sometimes want to kill myself because I’ve failed to overcome even the smallest of my problems. I really want to fade away, because it would be an honest relief from everything.
Dearest Tom,
Today is desolate, best forgotten; an eerie emptiness fills this hollow day. How can I make any contact with you: there in this space- this vast ocean- the roundness of the planet- and stillness?
It would be quite a relief to crush all this drama and laugh. Uncomplicated.
It is midnight. You are having lunch on the other side of the earth. I see you. The night before me while you have the day before you. I’ll sleep now and try to find a way out of this complication.
Goodnight Tom.
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