Gerda Oude Kempers-Rutjes is a cheerful speech waterfall. She lives independently in a senior apartment in Losser, near the German border, and calls herself ‘a happy person’. She devours regional novels and still cooks her meal every day at noon, ‘with lots of vegetables, an apple and little fat’. All the wooden cabinets and tables in the house were made by her husband, a furniture maker by trade, who came to save his beloved in 1945 during a risky journey from starvation he feared. This morning the mother of nine children made an inventory of how many grandchildren and great-grandchildren she now has on a piece of paper. She comes to thirty in all, and three are on the way. “Luckily I don’t have to pay all that.”
You have just recovered from corona.
‘I haven’t had it in all that time, and a few weeks ago I suddenly turned out to be positive. I think it came through one of my daughters, who works in education. I was terribly ill for two days and thought: maybe I’m going to die now. Before going to bed I took two paracetamol and the next day I was better.’
How do you get so strong at age 100?
‘It is largely up to a person whether he grows old in a healthy way. One: a tidy character. I’m just as cheerful as my mother, so I got that quality as a gift. Two: get along well with people, so don’t argue. When someone is out for a conflict, I keep quiet; let the other prevail. Three: do everything yourself. Four: healthy living; eat a lot of vegetables and little fat, do not smoke and drink. I only drink a glass of wine on special occasions.’
What kind of family did you grow up in?
‘In a poor family with lovely parents. We lived in the Betuwe and grew our own fruit and vegetables. My mother was a strong woman, hardworking and always cheerful and cheerful. She sang often, and so cleanly.’ (She bets:) ‘Here comes Jaap the greengrocer with his donkey cart. He stops at the front door and I hear him ask: Miss, buy me some: peas, beans and celery. Take a look in my baskets, everything is there.’ My father worked in a brick factory and earned 11 guilders a week. He had to fill eleven mouths: of his seven children, his parents, my mother and himself. After primary school we all had to work, my sisters and I in the household. We gave our earnings to our parents. As a child I often brought my father hot food to the factory at lunchtime. Then I didn’t recognize him, standing in the smoke by the brick oven, without protective clothing. They didn’t have mouth caps then. He died of pneumonia at the age of 43. My mother was left alone with seven young children. We had to provide the income.’
Did you marry your husband for love?
‘Oh, I was madly in love. I met Henk on the bus, during the war years. I had been working as a maid for a family in The Hague since I was 18 and on my way to Gennep by bus, to my sister who had had a baby. On the way a man sat down next to me and we started talking. He spoke with the same sounds as my old schoolmaster Wissink, who also came from Twente. Henk lived in Overdinkel, a village close to Losser. When he had to get out, he asked for my address. We were going to write each other, very nice letters. One day, in the winter of 1945, I wrote to Henk that we were hungry. We only ate tulip bulbs and sugar beets. One day, it was Easter, the bell rang and Henk was at the door. “I’m coming to pick you up because you’re hungry and I don’t want you to die, we have enough food,” he said. Henk turned out to have received a lift from a German soldier who went to get ammunition in The Hague. So on a chest with bullets we drove to Twente, in the middle of the night, without light so as not to be noticed, because the Tommies (English soldiers, red.) hung in the air. On the way we took cover in a ditch. The day we arrived, Overdinkel was liberated.’
Didn’t you hesitate to go with Henk, you barely knew him?
‘I was very grateful to him, also because I felt trapped in the house where I worked seven days a week. I couldn’t help myself and wanted to be in control of myself. Madame knew about the correspondence and saw that I was in love, so let me go. Henk took me to his parental home in Overdinkel. When we arrived, his mother said, ‘Oh no, I can’t have you with me.’ I understood; she had ten children and a small house. It was a rough time. I knew no one there and had nothing at all, except the white maid’s apron from my position in The Hague. I was laughed at in the street, because in Twente they wore colored aprons. I went looking for work and a room. I found it at a drugstore. But it didn’t last long because in 1946 we got married and soon after I became pregnant. Because I was in so much pain in the first months, my husband said: stop working. It was a submissive time for the woman.’
What was it like to become a mother in those circumstances, in a cold environment without family?
‘We rented two rooms in Overdinkel and had absolutely nothing for the baby. No crib, no blanket, no diapers. I didn’t know how to take care of a child. I only went to primary school and didn’t know anyone in the village who could help me and tell me what to do. Not even my mother-in-law, she was not such a sweetheart, very different from my mother. Our child was born healthy, but at some point she didn’t want to drink anymore. I got milk from the farmer, but later it turned out to be full of bacteria. My baby was seven months old when she became ill and was in danger of dehydration. Terrible. We called in the doctor. He said there was no time to lose and took her to the hospital. We wanted to go after it but didn’t have a bicycle. The Father wanted to lend his to us. When we got to the hospital, it was too late. Our daughter was already in a box. There were beautiful flowers on it, I can still see it in my mind. With our second child, I was able to take a mother course where I learned how to care for a baby. After the first came eight more children. I named the youngest after our deceased child, because I wanted to hear her name. By the way, she’s a lesbian.’
Did motherhood give you enough satisfaction?
‘At that time, as a mother, you were always working. You did everything by hand, because there were no vacuum cleaners, washing machines and disposable diapers. And then you walked around with a big belly every year. I loved children. But I would have liked to take inhibitors. I would have found four children enough, if I had been given the choice.’
You just noted that one of your daughters is a lesbian. How did you react when you heard that?
‘At first I thought it was terrible. I lay awake all night thinking she was different and wouldn’t be able to have children. But the next day I let my mind work. I thought about the cows in the meadow and how they sometimes interact with each other. It’s nature. My daughter is happy with it herself and has a very nice wife. Now I say: as long as your child is happy.’
What do you see as one of the biggest changes of the past century?
‘Nowadays you just have to push a button and it’s done. In my youth the living room was lit with a kerosene lamp. One day two men came and fastened long bars to the walls. From now on we only had to press one button and the whole living room was lit up. A miracle. Not long ago I went to close the curtains in my living room. I fell and got stuck between the heater and an armchair. I pressed the button on the alarm I carry with me and heard a voice from the box behind my TV: ‘What’s going on?’ I yelled, “I’ve fallen and I’m trapped.” The voice replied, “I’m coming.” And ten minutes later I was on my feet again.’
Where do you still get the zest for life?
‘I like going out with my scooter, to the library and shopping alone in Germany. But the new one I got goes way too fast, that doesn’t feel safe. I dare not ask for another. It is also very complicated to arrange such a thing. I also read a lot of regional novels because they are often cheerful and optimistic. Now I’m busy in Too good to be true by my favorite writer Olga van der Meer. I now have the time for everything and can do what I feel like. I’m a happy person, yes really.’
Gerda Oude Kempers-Rutjes
born: January 20, 1922 in Angeren
lives: independently, in a senior home in Losser
family: nine children (two deceased), 16 grandchildren, 14 great-grandchildren (three on the way)
widow: since December 2004