Heaven is most probably where Fiep Westendorp and Annie MG Schmidt are sipping tea, looking over the clouds and smiling at Fiep having her illustrations exhibited in one of the most famous and prestigious museums in the world, the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam.
“Finally some work there putting smiles on people’s faces!” Annie would say taking a drag on her ever present cigarette, and Fiep would blink and take another sip of her tea. Annie MG Schmidt is my favourite Dutch writer. She holds a special place in my heart because she provided so much comfort after we had emigrated to the Netherlands from New Zealand in 1971.
The transition was far from smooth. I had left behind my friends, my beloved North Shore in Auckland and, most of all, the English language. Sure, as children do, I learnt to speak Dutch in a couple of months, but it took ages for my father to arrive and my mum and us three children weren’t adjusting to life in the low lands. We all missed New Zealand incredibly. At my first school in The Hague, when we lived in an attic (yes, reallly), I had a marvellous teacher who had spent seven years in Australia. But we only stayed there briefly because the attic was way too small. (It really was.)
Our next abode was a holiday house to the south of The Hague, on the outskirts of a village called Poeldijk. At my school in Poeldijk, my teacher couldn’t speak English. When all the other children went home for lunch, I couldn’t as it was a 30-minute cycle. Instead, the teacher would hand me a broom and make sweeping motions. Every day. (Honestly!)
Luckily within a year we moved to another, slightly bigger village further south called Monster where I had a fabulous teacher. Meester van der Made, I think his name was and he made Annie MG Schmidt my superhero when he read Abeltje to the class at the end of each day. Abeltje was about a lift boy who pressed the top button of the elevator, then seared into the sky and had all sorts of adventures. And when the sequel came out, I was over the moon as The A of Abeltje took the elevator in the opposite direction through the earth to emerge in New Zealand! Unfortunately those books have not been translated into English unlike some of her other books, Jip and Janneke and Pluk van de Petteflet.
Of course, I thought Jip and Janneke were too childish for me at that time. But I still sneaked peeks at the drawings, because they are for all ages. And walking around amongst the many other visitors at Fiep Westendorp’s exhibition — whatever you do, try to avoid booking a slot on a Saturday — especially the elderly were on a delightful trip down memory lane.
Sitting in the magical garden of the Rijksmuseum after, I felt happy and inspired to keep on writing, reading and blogging. We need art for that. I would love to hear of your favourite exhibitions, museums, writers or illustrators!
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