Warlovechildren in the Netherlands

In 2009, we interviewed José Kerry about her unknown military father. Now, 3 years later, it might be that she finally found him!

Telling her story to Warlovechild.org was the start of this story with a hopefully happy end. With the information of a veteran and the help of the organisation FIOM, she is now waiting for the results of a DNA-test.

One evening I came home after a night out with my younger sister. My mother was still awake, sitting in the living room. I would soon get married, and she had decided to tell me the truth: I was fathered by someone other than my father. My biological father was a Dutch soldier who had been stationed in Indonesia. I was 24 years, and knew of nothing until that moment.

My sister reacted immediately, without hesitation. "Come on, let's go find him!" But I responded very cool. I thought, ‘If he never looked for me all these years, why should I bother and go find him?’

At the age of 48 years, in 1996, Henk urgently needed to hand over his genetical family history because of possible complications following a serious car accident. Only then his younger brother confessed that Henk and his twin brother Vincent have a different, unknown father. Everything is described in a diary of the man they thought was their father. Until that unforgettable moment.

(Also read Andrea's personal story:  I like the term Warlovechild)

Dear people of the Warlovechild,

I will try to tell you how I came to know about the history of my father. As descibed in ‘stories’, I only knew his name. Luckily I knew the name of my half brother, whom I contacted. Through him I got my father's name and birth date.

The story of Conny Latoel, Warlovechild

When I was thirteen, I heard a conversation between my grandfather and grandmother with an uncle. My father had just deceased, and I stayed with my grandparents, who lived in a barrack in the Moluccan camp in the Netherlands. And while I was sleeping behind the curtain, I caught that conversation. My uncle said in a slightly derogatory way: well, she’s not his anyway. Until that moment I knew no better than that Latoel was my real father. He was always very loving to me, and I'm sure he considered me as his daughter. But I was not.

I discovered that my father was not my biological father when I needed a birth certificate for my graduation: only the familyname of my mother was written on it, Van Hensbeek, and not my father’s familyname, Meyer. From that moment my quest began. Up to this day no one in the family wants to tell me the truth.

The story of Warlovechild Roy Meyer

My mother was an Indo-European woman. Her father was a Dutchman, her mother Indonesian, a real Javanese. They lived in Klaten, near Solo. My mother married an Indo-European man. Together they had three children: two daughters and a son. Suddenly, her husband disappeared. It was wartime, and at first my mother lived in great uncertainty. She was left alone with the children. Only later it turned out that her husband had gone to Holland. His story was that he had become ill and was transported to Holland. She received the divorce papers by mail.

My mother is of Indonesian descent, a wealthy family. I believe my grandfather was a doctor or something, and my mother completed high school in the Dutch East Indies. At young age she married a man of Persian-Armenian descent. They led a comfortable life in Surabaya, a big house, almost a palace, and a livery stable full of horses, so I'm told. After the invasion of the Japanese her husband was murdered by the Japanese and Pelopor. My mother was left with three young children, they all four ended up in a Japanese camp. My mother had to witness many atrocities. Her cousin was ripped open by the Pelopor in her presence. After the war, she vowed to herself that she would never marry any black man. She only wanted to deal with white men!

I was born in 1950 in Central Java, Semarang. My mother worked as a kitchen help in the military barrack. She was given board and lodging there, so I guess she was there day and night. And my father was a serviceman and worked as a cook. In that kitchen, they came into contact with each other. Did they spend long evenings together, or was their contact just like an afternoon snack? Was it a longer relationship? I do not know. However, I do know that I was the result.

Jan’s father was encamped as a Dutch soldier in the area of Semarang. Jan’s mother worked in the kitchen barracks and as a washing woman. She fell immediately for the tall Dutchman; he was attractive and charming. After a year Jan’s mother got pregnant, but because of a sense of shame for her environment, she left her village to go to Jakarta. There she completed her pregnancy, and gave birth to Jan.
After the childbirth she returned to Semarang. But Jan’s father had already left, to an unknown destination, without having seen his own child. Jan’s mother went to the barracks. From someone in the barracks she received the full name and the home address in Holland of her soldier lover.