In the 1950s, Australia welcomed Dutch families to help rebuild after the war, and even ran massive publicity campaigns promoting the opportunities awaiting migrants in Australia; while the Netherlands encouraged emigration to ease shortages of food, housing, and jobs.
By 1961 over 125,000 Dutch migrants had arrived in Australia, and almost 45 per cent of them were Catholic. They brought with them a devotion forged through hard times, which helped to strengthen parish life in Australia
Today, Dutch heritage runs quietly through parishes across our Diocese; sometimes, you wouldn’t even know it, such is the legacy of the 'Silent Migrants'.
In this edition of Sandpiper, Dutch-born migrants Liesbeth van Emmerik and Fr Pieter Ferwerda share how their faith guided them in a new land, and how their migrant experiences deepened that faith. As Fr Peter reflects, “Sometimes I think we should be grateful for the hard times, because it is through challenges that our faith is strengthened.”
Kennington parishioner, Liesbeth van Emerik, remembers as a small child going to bed in tears with a relentless aching hunger; it was the Dutch Hunger Winter of 1944-1945. Yet she says, the tears she cried as a lonely 14-year-old migrant in her first months in Bendigo were much saltier.
Today, Liesbeth is a vivacious octogenarian, a mother, grandmother and an active member of Kennington Parish. She credits her early Catholic education in the Hague for her resilience, and her involvement with Young Christian Workers with helping her find her place in Australia.
Listening to Liesbeth recount her story, it’s hard not to see a life shaped by the great forces of history – war, occupation, famine and migration. Yet, through it all, she has held onto the simple advice of a Jesuit priest from her childhood: “If you’re not sure what to do, ask the Holy Spirit.”
Born into a well-to-do family in The Hague, Liesbeth’s early years were marked by both courage and upheaval. Her father was a Master cabinet maker and, as it turned out, a master hider of Jews. “My Aunt’s husband was Jewish, and my father helped hide their family. He did a great job and, fortunately, unlike Anne Frank’s poor family, they survived the occupation without being discovered,” explains Liesbeth.
She remembers the terror of bombings, and the day her family was forced from their home so it could be demolished to make way for the Atlantic Wall. Even the church in which she was baptised was destroyed.
During the Hunger Winter, food was scarce. Her father searched desperately, even through rubbish, trying to find something to feed his family. Because Liesbeth was anaemic, a doctor granted her extra rations, and the nuns arranged for her to attend a kindergarten where food was set aside for young children. There, at last, she was given breakfast.
Post-war, Liesbeth speaks fondly of the Franciscan Nuns, who she remembers would ride in their habits on their bicycles to help her mother with her newborn babies. She enjoyed her academically rigorous and progressive education with the Sisters; “I loved school, and I loved learning, and I loved the nuns!” said Liesbeth, who wanted to be a teacher and work in the missions.
Liesbeth (standing) and her family in the Netherlands.
Liesbetgh (standing middle) withher mother and siblings and Fr Maas.
Liesbeth (second from left) with YCW friends circa 1963.
Liesbeth’s dreams were shattered when her family migrated to Australia under the 'Father Maas Scheme', and she ironically found herself living in circumstances reminiscent of a mission: the Daylesford Hostel, where she remembers fetching water to take to their cabins. “My family was with a group of twenty Catholic Dutch families brought to Daylesford at that time. I remember being visited by Fr De Campo, who would pop in to check how the families were going; I guess he was the missionary I wanted to be.”
Liesbeth and her family didn’t stay in the camp long. Within a week her father was employed in Bendigo and, soon after, her family followed, but the move wasn’t great for Liesbeth.
“I was fourteen, I loved learning, but my parents couldn’t afford to send me to school in Australia. I was devastated,” explains Liesbeth. “I was the eldest child and was stuck at home all day helping care for my six younger siblings. “So that I had an excuse to get out of the house, I placed an advertisement in the newspaper offering to be a housekeeper – I was not allowed to tell family in the Netherlands! In the Netherlands, we were told to work hard, or we would become housekeepers. That was one of the bad things about the Hague at that time; class distinction was very strong.
Liesbeth worked as a housekeeper for a very kind woman who arranged for Liesbeth to attend typing classes at St Mary’s College, and later Bendigo Business College, where she graduated top of her class. Liesbeth found work but still did not feel she belonged in Australia. Faith remained her anchor.
Liesbeth joined the Cathedral Choir and was invited to a few socials at St Kilian’s Hall, but the experience left her feeling even more alone and isolated. “I walked home crying, but I remembered the words of my priest back in the Hague, “ask the Holy Spirit” and “never look back”. Liesbeth had no choice but to look forward!
Her turning point came when her parish priest invited her to an NCGM Rally. There she met Young Christian Workers who invited her to join them. Liesbeth soon became a motivated YCW leader, continuing despite her father’s concerns. “I really don’t know what I would have done without Young Christian Workers,” she says. “It really changed my life.”
Through parish life and YCW, Liesbeth found community and direction. Her Catholic faith, lived steadfastly, helped her to endure loss, to adapt to a new country and begin again.
Parish Priest of Heathcote, Fr Peter Ferwerda, originally Pieter from Helmond, was two and a half years old when he arrived in Australia with his parents and two older brothers in 1950. Being younger than Liesbeth, he didn’t find the transition so daunting, but he saw how difficult migration had been for his parents.
Like Liesbeth, he credits his family’s strong faith and involvement in parish life with helping them to settle into life in Australia.
“My father was afraid communism would come to the Netherlands, and he wanted his children to grow up in freedom. We came as free settlers and initially stayed with family friends in Melbourne.”
After a short stint in Gippsland, Fr Peter spent a carefree childhood in Hawthorn, building cubby houses and billy carts with local kids while attending a Catholic Primary School and, later, Marcellin College. “My parents were happy we were safe in Australia, away from the troubles of the Cold War, and they were proud to give us all a good Catholic education. They suffered for it but, in many ways, they were used to adversity.”
“When my parents first arrived in Melbourne, they were overwhelmed by the availability of food,” he recalls. “They had lived with the scarcity and uncertainty of war in a town that had been occupied by the Nazis, and had already lost a child to tuberculosis before migrating to Australia.”
Fr Peter reflects on the role of faith in their settlement. “I’m afraid to think what our life as ‘New Australians’ would have been like had we not had a strong faith and been involved in parish life. The Church was pivotal in the adjustment to Australia. The priests got to know us, they visited us, and they were good to us. Without that priestly influence and that religious backing and parish setting, life would have been much harder.”
Like many post-war Dutch migrants, the Ferwerdas were determined to ‘assimilate’ into Australian society, reflecting the government’s policy at the time.
“My father was committed to a new life in Australia; he had the whole family naturalised at the Hawthorn Town Hall only one year after our arrival. Australia encouraged Europeans to migrate by promoting Australia as a land of freeom, including religious freedom. So, when my father was called a ‘bloody foreigner’ because of his thick accent, or told ‘Catholics need not apply,’ he was deeply wounded—more so than not having his accounting qualifications recognised.”
Mr Ferwerda worked as a clerk in a nearby factory; back then, small factories were scattered across Melbourne. In time, he set up an egg business on the side, building poultry houses on land he rented in Springvale. “We got a little clientele going and, as kids, we delivered fresh eggs mainly to parishioners. It was a nice extra income for Dad, and it helped to pay for our schooling. I remember cleaning chook poo out of the pens in my school holidays – it was great fun!”
“For my mother, who spent most of her time caring for her five children (two more children, a son and a daughter were born in Australia), and initially could not speak a word of English, daily Mass was her only contact with others outside her family. “She was a kind and prayerful woman,” says Fr Peter. “It was the rhythm of daily Mass and the family rosary in the evenings that helped her through those years of homesickness and isolation.”
All four boys became altar boys when they were old enough, meaning early mornings to serve at Masses each day, in Latin, of course. “I loved being an altar boy. I was so nervous standing in front of everyone but, over time, I got over my shyness. Mass was the axle of our wheel, and Mum was the heart of our home. “One of my favourite memories was coming home from school to find mum scrubbing the wooden floor, singing the Gregorian chant, Veni Creator Spiritus.
Fr Peter says witnessing his parents’ hardships has shaped his priesthood. “I’m especially sympathetic to priests from India, the Philippines and other places, coming into our Diocese. They are fantastic people who have sacrificed a lot to come and serve us. I admire them tremendously. Many come from more devotional cultures, and I think we need to create space for them to express their devotional practices here in Australia.”
His advice to new arrivals today is simple and faithful: “Stick close to Jesus and Mary. And they will stick to you and help you settle into life in Australia.” He draws inspiration from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, which he sees as a blueprint for Christian living: “Seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all that you need will be given to you” [Matthew 6:33].
Fr Peter, sometimes I think that we should be grateful for the hard times we have, because it is through the challenges that our faith is strengthened.”
Liesbeth (nee Mennen) with her husband Peter van Emmerik and Fr Pieter Ferwerda.
