BLOOD, PAPER and MONEY
Blood relatives,
the blood shed in slavery and free servants,
and lives obliterated;
Paper trails of birth, marriage and death certificates,
letters, and decrees,
and the lack of a paper trails
that keep some family members nameless and homeless;
Money: the root of all evil
woven through kingdoms, beliefs, and commerce.
Pieter van der Westhuizen
Chapter one, The Confessions of a Mother
In 1661 Mrs van der Westhuizen was standing all alone at the window. She gazed upon the brooding clouds with regret in her heart. ‘What have I done’ she sighed. She cast her mind back to the day she said good bye to her only living son, Pieter. He was just twelve but she had agreed with the priest that, as he had finished school, he was ready to go to work. He had been horrified at the thought of leaving her. She wondered if her decision was right.
‘I don’t want to leave you, you always said that I was the one that was going to look after you. How can I look after you from Batavia?’ He yelled.
She didn’t know what to say. He felt like his words fell on deaf ears. She felt like she was saving him from poverty.
A week before he had left for Enkhuizen she had gone to the Church of Our Lady to make her confessions. In her downcast state she had not noticed anything on the way there. Everything was a blur. As she stepped inside the church – the cold, austere black and white tiled floor of the nave and the dark baroque décor seemed to collude in consensus with her heavy heart. She dwelled a short while, not really knowing what to say. Confessions are never easy. She knew it was now or never. Then she stepped into the confessional. Her heart leapt into her throat. ‘It’s final’ she thought to herself.
‘In the name of the Father
and of the Son
and of the Holy Ghost,
amen.
Forgive me Father,
for I have sinned.”
She paused for a long while.
‘Go on, my child’ the priest said.
‘I have no food and I can’t pay the rent for the third month – and all I can think about is killing myself and my son,’ she sniffed as she said this. Speaking it out aloud made it sound both final and desperate.
‘What’s troubling you, my child? What drives you to such thoughts?’ the Priest asked gently in a low tone.
‘Since the war, my husband never came home, nor my other sons. It’s been twelve years after the treaty and there is no work for me. I can’t feed myself or Pieter. ’ Mrs van der Westhuizen answered in a thin voice.
‘’No, no. Why such desperate thoughts? There is always something you can do to live in hope. Don’t act in haste. There are ways of getting around this. I will help you’ whispered the Priest.
‘Í know what you are thinking – you are going to suggest I send him to an orphanage like all the other children. Never. I couldn’t do that!’ Mrs van der Westhuizen’s voice crescendoed in defence.
The church had felt quiet up until this point and Mrs van der Westhuisen wondered if there was anyone else who heard her.
‘On the contrary, Pieter is twelve, he is of working age, we wouldn’t send him to an orphanage now’ the priest responded.
‘Oh – the war then? Then all my children will be gone! I might as well go kill myself now”, she sobbed.
‘There is another way. There is new business out in the East and ships are going there. He could work for the Dutch East India Company’.
Mrs van der Westhuizen brightened a little. She knew that business was a good way to make a living.
‘Then can you help me? Isn’t he too young?’
‘Yes I can help you. I will introduce you to someone. And no, they take boys on from twelve or thirteen. He is tall for his age. Pieter will be fine. I know there is a ship leaving just before Christmas.’
Her face fell, ‘you mean we wouldn’t have Christmas together?’
The priest noted that her emotions were quite volatile.
‘It’s the only way, otherwise you’ll be waiting for months.’ He said firmly.
She swallowed, imagining waving good bye to her last son, Pieter, from the quay but at least it was a way of staying alive. She agreed. Her thoughts wondered for a moment as she thought maybe she could become a beguine and live in the beguinage. She knew someone who was friends with the Grand Mistress. If she chose to live she wanted to devote her time to helping others.
The Priest’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he told her about a ship’s Captain who was visiting in Bruges. Pieter could travel back, through Antwerp to Enkhuizen Chamber in North Holland, with the Captain as it would be long an expensive journey for her to travel; over land and waterways. She should say goodbye to him at home. She nodded in agreement.
She felt lighter as she left the church. She passed Michelangelo’s statue of the Madonna and child. ‘So tender’, she thought. She identified it with her love for her boys. She bowed and prayed a secret prayer of gratitude. As she left she was struck by the beauty of the little stone bridge, (Bonifiaciusbrug). The light moved over it with such a romantic and magical atmosphere. She breathed in deeply; everything seemed to be glowing in happiness now.
When she came home she shared the news with Pieter but he wasn’t pleased. He didn’t act grown up at all. She was reminded of how young he really was. His horror had caused her to vacillate a little but she knew it was for the best. It would be a new chapter in their lives. A week later she had put on her Sunday best for church as she wanted to make a good impression when meeting the captain. The Captain was at church and after introductions were made she said:
‘Please look after my son; he really could do with a father figure. ’
The captain’s heart filled with pride seeing she wanted his help. His chest rose just a little. As he gazed upon her he noticed how comely she was – and a woman who rallied deep feelings of protection. He had never had the time to court and being 55 years old he suddenly felt remorse for not finding a wife.
‘Don’t worry; I will keep an eye on him. He is a strong looking young man for his age’, he winked at her, ‘He will be registered as a soldier in the service of the Dutch East India Company. I will get him to write to you and confirm which ship he’s been enlisted to’.
***
In the morning there was a crisp, cold mist as they walked for the last time together before Pieter left with the Captain. ‘I can hardly see beyond my hand’ she thought. They were both quietly busy with their own thoughts. Pieter didn’t want to say goodbye. He hardly looked at her. He knew he loved her but how could she, as his mother, push him out of their home and away into the unknown world. He didn’t know how to behave. He thought he had to act like a man but he felt like he was eight years old. She had tried to hug him goodbye but he was stiffly unresponsive. She whispered to him: ‘when you miss me think of the Madonna and child and I will say a prayer for you. Always know that I love you’.
***
The Captain was kind and he paid for both of them on the tow-barge. There were others too that traveled with them, all going to the same place. Pieter didn’t want to be called ‘teacher’s pet’ so he quietly kept an arm’s length between him and everyone. He kept to himself and he watched. That was his way in life, being a little reserved payed off because he could learn the ropes without looking like a fool. Pieter wrote to his mother to tell her that he was enlisted on the Westfrieslandt which was bound for Batavia. He would be leaving in December 1661 and stopping over at the Cape of Storms before arriving at Batavia. His letter didn’t include telling her that although the Captain was kind and paid for his trip, he now had a debt with the VOC. The Captain told Pieter all his expenses would be charged to Pieter’s account and in the end when Pieter leaves the VOC he would owe the VOC a lot of money. How could he tell his mother that; she was hoping he would send her money.
Another of his letter might look something like this in the17th century; written in Flemish.
Eerwaerde ende seer beminde Moeder,
Ick ben uytermaten verblijdt dat U.L. intreedt in het Begijnhof, want ick weet seer wel dat U.L. sich al over langhe aen Godt ende aen goede wercken heeft willen toewijden. Het is seer goet dat U.L. het kantwercken sult leeren, opdat U.L. daermede een weynich gheldt mooght winnen. Ick ben wel versekert dat men aldaer goede sorghe voor U.L. sal draghen.
Ick misse U.L. nu alreede, maer ick sal vroom ende sterck wesen, ende alle daghen aen U.L. ghedencken terwijlen ick op zee ben. Weest niet bekommert, want den Capiteyn heeft my belooft dat hy goede sorghe voor my sal draghen.
Met hertelijcke groetenisse ende liefde,
U.L. onderdanighen sone,
Pieter
I am not a linguist so I could be wrong in the use of the old Flanders language so here’s the English version too.
Dear mother
I am so glad that you are joining the Beguinage* because I know that you have always wanted to dedicate yourself to God and doing good things. It is good that you will be learning to do lace making so that you can make a little bit of money. I hope you will be looked after well there.
I miss you already but I will be strong and I will think of you every day as I sail.
Don’t worry the Captain said he will look after me.
With love, your son, Pieter.
***
She held his letter in her pocket
every day after that.
It went with her to the market,
it learnt the ways of the canals
as she moved about her days.
It was the first Christmas without him,
and she tucked the letter
in her pocket
as a light dusting of snow
lay on the ground.
She watched the snow
fall softly like little feathers.
‘So melancholy,’ she thought.
It landed on the earth
just as it had done 1,687 winters ago
when Julius Caesar invaded
and they were assimilated
into the Roman Empire.
‘Wars! And men with power –
what does it really mean -
where does it get us?
Some powerful man’s achievements
are some other suckers’ poverty. ’
And the snow drifted down
when the Roman Empire finally fell
with the Germanic invasions.
‘Men fall almost as frequently as the snow does.’
She thought about the winters,
each with the new snow arriving -
and the development of the markets,
the trade and the sea port
that connected merchants all over Europe.
Bruges became a wealthy town,
one of the most important trading centers
in the northwest Europe
until it all fell apart
and the business moved to Antwerp.
‘Cities topple with the powerful men,
but the snow keeps on coming’….
‘Why wasn’t I born in the golden age when Bruges was a wealthy city – I could be selling Flemish fabric now?’
To be continued…with Pieter on the ship, Westfrieslandt.
Copyright © 2026 Morag F. Noffke
*Beguines were laywomen who lived in Christian communities called a beguinage. They were not nuns but they devoted their lives to prayer, singing and many of them had day jobs. Some of them also taught the poor to read and write as well as practical skills like lace making.
Author’s Note
Please note that this is a fictitious story inspired by the facts of a young man named Pieter van der Westhuizen who came from Bruges, and was 12 years old when he signed up as a soldier in the Dutch East India Company (VOC). The ship, Westfrieslandt left from Enkhuisen in 1661 bound for Batavia. He is one of the founding fathers of my South African family history. I have tried to keep it as true as possible to the history and the religion of the time in Bruges, Flanders – which was Roman Catholic.
I use story telling to explore and process the facts of my ancestry which includes issues such as greed, slavery, corporal punishment, hardship, survival and personal growth in the face of all these encounters. If this type of creative story telling appeals to you come along on the journey. Pieter’s story will be broken up into chapters. The next chapter will be set on the ship Westfrieslandt
