The shy Maria Vlieger lives less than ten kilometers from her native village, in a care home in Middelburg. Upon entering her room, the eye is immediately drawn to a large black-and-white photograph of her parents with their six children, in the late 1920s. Maria’s mother and three older sisters are dressed in the traditional costume of the Zeeland island of Walcheren with precious coral necklaces – little Maria is not. “My mother didn’t feel like sewing another new suit.” And Maria was fine with that, because every morning she watched her sisters wriggle their torso, puffing into the tight jacket, and have to drape the long hair impeccably under the lace cap.
She never thought she’d end up in a care home at 99, but she’s just acquiescing in it, ‘because then it’s less bad’. Sometimes giggling, she tells her life story.
What is it like to be 100 years old?
‘The years pass by themselves and you skip after them, you don’t have to do anything special for that. If you’re okay and still able to do something, it’s nice to be 100 years old. I can still read and do needlework, and have just started crocheting a pink pig. I never thought I would end up in a care home. After I fell at home 1.5 years ago, I ended up here. That didn’t bother me at all, because I thought it was just for a little while and I would be back home soon. I still lived independently and that went very well, I did everything myself. But that fall broke my right leg in two places. The doctor said there was nothing he could do about it. Now I can hardly walk and I have regular pain. ‘Take a paracetamol,’ said the doctor, but that is of course not a solution. So I still live here.’
You are from Zeeland. Do you know that most 100-year-old Dutch people live in Zeeland and Drenthe?
‘Oh yeah? The poorer, the better you live, apparently. Those who are poor have to do everything themselves and are therefore on the move a lot. Many people from Zeeland and Drenthe were farm workers, being outside a lot is good for a person. The others just sat and smoked cigars and cigarettes. I knew a rich man who lit one cigar after another. And you know what it is? De Zeeuw is not so childish. If something is wrong, even with children, we say: it will pass. Zeelanders are like: don’t complain but carry. I come from a strong family myself. My grandmother is in her 90’s and my father is 102. He was a little boy, but never sick.’
Did you grow up in poverty?
“It was a rough time, yes. My father was a tailor and had a drapery shop at home. He made work clothes for farmers. We lived in a small house in the village of Meliskerke, with a box bed downstairs in the living room, where the four of us slept: two downstairs and two upstairs in the manger. On the first floor were two more bedrooms for my parents and two brothers. There was also a small room for my grandmother, who lived with us. We ate from our vegetable garden: potatoes and vegetables. Meat occasionally appeared on our plates, if there had been an emergency slaughter of a cow that had fallen into a ditch, for example. That meat was cheap. There was never money for anything extra. Farm children always had sweets, we never. When we told our mother that, she said she would make sweets herself. Then she baked bacon. We had no idea that it wasn’t candy at all.’
What was it like for you not to have a relationship and a family of your own?
“I’ve only had a boy once in my life. I don’t remember his name.’ (Giggle:) “It wasn’t a success. After that I didn’t see anyone again. I had no problem with it. I was always my own boss and could do whatever I wanted. When I came to my brother’s house and his children flew up to me, I always enjoyed it very much. And then I sometimes thought that I would have liked a family of my own, but on the other hand: if you only knew what goes on behind all those doors, it doesn’t always look good: quarrels, divorces.
‘Only three of the six of us got married, a brother and a sister also stayed alone. I don’t know what was wrong, maybe they were afraid of us? My mother had Parkinson’s, maybe they feared that if you married one of us, your children would get that disease too.
‘You know what it is? Farmers used to marry among themselves, the poor people left. Fortunately that is no longer the case these days.’
Did you enjoy your freedom?
‘I had a busy life. I have always enjoyed working as a craft teacher and later as a kindergarten teacher. I enjoyed all those cute children’s faces. My first job was a kindergarten teacher in Yerseke. After that I worked until I retired at a school for special primary education in Goes, where I had my own home. On weekends I was always with my parents to take care of my mother. She was sick at a young age. As a child I was given household chores because she couldn’t handle it. I was 8 years old when I wiped the carpet with a dustpan and dustpan – there were no vacuum cleaners yet – and learned to peel potatoes. Those were my duties. When my mother developed Parkinson’s disease at 55, I took care of her with my other unmarried sister until she died about twenty years later. After that I started taking care of my father in my spare time. He continued to work until his 90s. And had already started as a tailor when he was 10.’
What memories do you have of your own school days?
‘Meliskerke is a small village, so we only had one small school with Reformed and Reformed children mixed up. The school had just built a new classroom when the Old Reformed congregation, which was very strict in its teaching, decided to start its own school. They wanted their own little kingdom. I thought that was weird. First all the children from the village went to the same school, and then suddenly there was a split. The new school led to a war between the Reformed and the other children. They went to fight each other, with homemade sabers. After a few days it was over. So you see how you can breed hatred, even between children, if you separate yourself because you don’t accept the others.’
What do you think has been the biggest change in education in the past 100 years?
‘The kids. They are much more mature than they used to be, when they were kept small by their parents. It will also be because parents themselves are world wiser than ever. Children’s vocabulary has grown many times over.’
Were you a strict teacher?
(Giggles) “I was being unscrupulous. I joined the kids. When they played tag I was the one they had to have and they would run after me in a long trail. Another teacher chided me: you mustn’t play with them. I thought: mind your own business.’
What makes someone a good teacher?
‘Every child has to see it and learn to understand it. So you have to pay close attention to how the child behaves towards others and how it is for itself. It is important not to overlook quiet children, but to find out why they are so quiet. After all, there is always something going on. I took a silent child aside for a moment, then I asked if it was in pain. If the child shook his head, I would ask if Mom or Dad was sick. If it then shook ‘no’ again, I asked if there was a fight at home, because that usually was the case, I knew from experience. I explained that sometimes moms and dads have a hard time so that the child could understand a little. It is important that every child feels that he can trust his teacher.’
How do you view the times we live in now?
‘The poverty from my youth is fortunately no longer there. But nowadays you have more people who are rich and just want to get richer and richer.” (She makes a grabbing gesture.) “I don’t think that’s an improvement. The differences with others are getting bigger. I find the rich who buy houses and rent them out dearly, mean, because they exploit people with less money in order to become even richer themselves. For years I went door-to-door for charities and it always struck me that the richest gave the least.’
Would you like to be young now, in this prosperous time?
‘New. I can’t say I’ve had a miserable life, not at all. I want to leave as soon as possible, to a new world where there is justice.’
Do you follow the news, such as the war between Russia and Ukraine?
“I don’t understand what Putin is doing with his straight face. Has he learned nothing from all the wars that have already been waged? It only leads to misery, especially for the children. A man is a strange beast.’
Maria Kite
Born: September 1, 1921 in Meliskerke
Lives: in a nursing home in Middelburg
Profession: teacher
Family: fourteen aunt sayers